#I did research for these so I hope its right

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | twelve.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.8k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, lotsa talk goin around, mostly focused on namjoon lol, i'ma tell yall rn - cant trust nobody!!, everyone is just onto san x oc but for the wrong asssss reasons, joon loves his 'yes or no' questions lmao, again - i promise you there is no ill intentions behind namjoon's actions - he is trying to see both sides but he has to do what he needs to do as a department chair first & foremost!! pls understand my guy.. he had to think quick!

Today, it feels like everyone is staring at you.

Today, it feels like everyone knows, and everyone is projecting their assumptions about you and San out into the world.

"You okay?" Eunchae looks down at you as you walk and avoid contact, keeping your eyes down on your feet below or your phone. "You're awfully quiet today." Maybe word hasn't gotten to Eunchae, Jurin or Felix yet, but you know it'll eventually make its way over.

Or, maybe they have heard and they're just waiting for you.

All you know is that you wanna hide under your blankets to prevent all this overthinking, this anxiety from feeling like everyone is watching you.

"Yeah. Just tired."

"You sure? I'm all ears, you know."

"Mhm." You give her a small reassuring smile as you tug on your bag. "Thank you."

"Course."

"Have you heard from Jiung today?" You ask. You haven't really talked to Jiung since your fight at the happy hour event, and he hasn't done much to talk to you either. It's a bit awkward, but whenever you and your friends are all together, you try to keep the peace and act like nothing is wrong. You do hope he's okay, and you do hope to have your bestfriend back— but you're still upset at the fact that he jumped to conclusions about San and accused him of forcing you into this.

"No. But, he did say he probably wasn't gonna grab lunch cause he needs to take care of some things."

"I see."

"I'll see you for lunch though, right?" You nod, just as the Biology building comes into view. "Goodluck with class today." 

"Thanks." You squeeze her hand before heading inside for class. Luckily, Yunho said he wouldn't be able to join class today. You weren't really in the mood to deal with him, and you're more so worried about getting through class in one piece before your mind tears you apart with all this overthinking. 

"Morning Y/N!" A student already sitting in the classroom says. You're instantly comforted as you greet them back and start getting set up at the front of the classroom. But, that instantly goes down the drain when two more students walk in together— eyeing you as they pass the front table before talking amongst each other.

Fuck.

You haven't heard from San either.

The world truly felt like it was swallowing you whole.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey! I'm back." You smile at Sunwoo as you place your things down at your desk. It instantly fades when you get a chance to look around the basement office, a few of your lab members talking amongst themselves while looking in your direction. You slightly furrow your brows, wondering what exactly they were talking about or why they felt the need to be doing all of that in your face.

Was everyone in on you and San?

Is this what everything has come to?

"Hey you!" Sunwoo looks up, noticing the shift in your mood. He turns to look at everyone, shaking his head before returning his attention towards you. At this point, everyone has returned to their desks or left the room to head into the behavior or wet lab rooms. "You good?"

"Hm." You hum. "I guess."

"You guess? How was the conference?"

"Good! It was chill. Jotted down a few presentations I wanted to share with you and Belle. Is she around?" He shakes his head.

"Haven't seen her."

"Hm, okay."

"You can tell me, I'm all ears." You look at your watch.

"I gotta run behavior soon."

"So, let's grab something quick to eat before you run behavior?"

"I'm down. Kinda starving anyway."

"Yeah, let's get something in you. You won't be able to focus otherwise." He stands and stretches before nodding towards the door. "So, what was the most interesting?" You follow behind him with your wallet clutched in hand, lingering eyes watching as you leave with Sunwoo.

"Maybe she's trying to get around the lab?" You overhear one of the guys say just as you walk out of the room with Sunwoo, pausing in your steps.

"Sunwoo."

"Huh?"

"Actually, you know what. I think I can hang on until dinner. I should get started on behavior. We can talk about this another time."

"Huh? No, let's get something really quick."

"You can go ahead without me. Sorry. I just realized I'm more strapped on time than I thought I was."

"Okay? But, I'm grabbing you a snack and you better eat it." He slowly starts walking backwards down the basement hallway, glaring at you.

"Thank you." Sunwoo watches as your head falls when you walk back into the basement office. Truth be told, he's been hearing the talk go around, but he's not one to meddle— especially if it has something to do with his good friends. He'll always be on your side, regardless of what people say or think.

And he feels awful it's starting to be more obvious around you. The talk. The looks.

He wishes he could do more as your friend to help keep it away from you.

—END

Namjoon is already having a rough start to his day despite it being one of the lighter days meeting-wise. He was woken up to an urgent, sensitive email from the dean about an anonymous tip that came in overnight about San:

Namjoon— Please get to the bottom of this; we received this tip last night about San and his student.  'Hi. I'm not sure who to direct this concern to anonymously, but I believe Y/N Y/L/N and Professor Choi (San) are in an inappropriate relationship. I think she might be using it to her advantage to move forward in the program and secure her spot in his lab.' I'd like to resolve this before the end of the week. This should not be taken lightly if this is true...

And the thing is— he's just frustrated that this has been taking up this time lately. He hasn't even gotten his own time to think properly. He could only sigh in disappointment as he got ready for his day, unsure of what else it could bring him. 

He should've known the storm was coming.

Iseul tugs on her jacket as she heads over to the Panama Building, the wind cooling her cheeks as she made sure to clear her hour for this particular meeting. Most students are in class right now, so the halls are quiet, still. Iseul takes the elevator up to the second floor and steps out, rushing down towards the left end of the hall.

"Namjoon." Namjoon turns over his shoulder to see Iseul. His door is wide open since he doesn't have any important meetings for awhile, and he always tries to foster a welcoming environment by letting students [and faculty] know they're always welcome to pop in if they need him.

He did not mean her though, especially today.

"Iseul."

"Can we talk?" Namjoon quickly sizes her, realizing she's already inside his office. He doesn't necessarily have a choice, but he knows this talk was gonna happen sooner or later.

He knows Iseul always has something to say.

"You're already in my office so I don't think there's necessarily a choice." He says it in a slightly playful manner just so he doesn't come off entirely rude. "What's on your mind?" Iseul shuts the door and crosses her arms before looking at him. Namjoon sits on the edge of his desk, hands loosely clasped together.

"I think you might already know." He shrugs.

"Enlighten me."

"San."

"What about him?"

"Can you let him know how dangerous it is to be dating his rotation student? He's being stupid."

"He's a grown man."

"And you're the chair."

"Thanks for the reminder." He furrows his brows. "Respectfully Iseul, this is not a discussion for you, that's why I'm not trying to indulge."

"How is this not? He's putting his reputation on the line, along with the school's. Including yours—"

"I don't see where you're involved. You don't have anything to do with him directly or the bioengineering department." He crosses his arms and stands. "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but this wasn't your place to do so. I'll handle it and I'll take care of it, so you don't need to worry." Namjoon glares at her a bit. 

"You're being so casual about something pretty severe." Namjoon pauses as he maintains his eye contact with her. She wants him to shrink and fold, but he won't.

"I think we both know that's not the reason why you're bringing this up." Her brows are knit tightly as they sit in an awkward, tense pause. "Aren't you tired of treating San this way? Why exactly do you feel so strongly about calling him out?"

"I'm not even doing anything to him—"

"You're right, you're not. You don't respect him, you don't acknowledge him, you don't know how to be civil with him. Yet, you don't see me calling you out on your behavior towards your ex-husband who has done nothing but try and keep the peace. I only ever hear San's name come out of your mouth when you've got something bad to say about him." She glares at him. As much as Namjoon equally tries to be there for all of the faculty and to not choose sides, one thing that can surely piss him off is when people act this way unwarranted.

So no, he won't sit back if he feels the hostility. He understands the severity of the situation and he has yet to gather his thoughts and his information, but he won't take this.

"So, you're gonna let this go? Do you even actually understand the situation, Namjoon? If you won't take care of it, I'll have no choice but to escalate this to the dean."

"I do, plenty. You don't have to tell me twice or how to do my job, Iseul." He walks over to the door. "I already said I'll take care of it. On my own terms and in my own way. Not the way you want me to." He places a hand on his hip. "And what makes you think we haven't already discussed this?"

"Fine. If that girl ruins everything for the school—"

"She won't." Namjoon cuts her off just as he swings the door open. "This will be taken care of, end of story. Is there anything else I can help you with that doesn't involve San and his personal matters?"

"No." She huffs a bit before walking out of the room. At this point, Jiung is cutting the corner and almost running into Iseul as he makes his way to Namjoon's office. Jiung does a curt bow to Iseul as she storms by, heels clicking away on the linoleum floor. Her feet are heavy, Jiung feels every step even as she gets further and further away.

"Oh, Jiung. Nice to see a friendly face." Namjoon lets out a breath and gives him a toothless smile. 

"Professor Kim." Jiung gives him a bow. "Are you free right now?"

"Mhm." He steps aside. "Just finished with Professor Lee. Come on in." He welcomes him inside, a bit relieved to see his face and to be welcomed by his gentle aura. It's nothing like Iseul and he's grateful; although, it does make him a little nervous to see Jiung in his office when he doesn't necessarily belong to the department. 

And just like Iseul, the buzz around campus, everything that's been going down— Namjoon already feels like he knows what this is about.

The only thing he can do is confront it and take care of it just like he told Iseul he'd do. But, how? He's not sure. He's gonna have to take the time today to sit San down and poke at his brain because he's just not understanding how all of this went down and why his name and your name are being tossed around together.

Maybe he just didn't wanna believe it was true; not with San, no. He couldn't. Both as his friend and colleague.

"What can I help with? I'm a little surprised you're popping into my office since you're in the electrical engineering department."

"Ah, cause.." Jiung slowly sits in the chair and sets his bag down. "It doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me." Namjoon cocks his head to the side.

"Okay, no worries. I'm all ears."

"I-I don't really know how to say this, but I'm mainly concerned about a friend. She's in the bioengineering department."

"I think I might know what you're talking about." Namjoon says, giving Jiung a nod to proceed with his explanation.

"Yeah, it's that. I feel like Professor Choi might have forced her into it, though. It just seems really out of character for Y/N, and I don't know. I guess it just feels like he might have said something or tried to take advantage of her."

"I understand your concern for your friend, but can you let me know why you think Professor Choi is taking advantage of her or forcing her into this?"

"I just.. it just seems off, is all."

"But, what if this is also Y/N's choice?"

"It's not like her."

"I'm not saying you don't know your friend, Jiung. But, there are things people are fully capable of doing that can come off as unexpected from your point of view."

"I talked to her after the whole happy hour thing went down and I found Professor Choi kinda cornering her against the wall. She didn't look scared or anything, but she did get defensive while I was talking to her and asking her about it."

"I see." Is all Namjoon says because one, he just doesn't know. Just like he told Jiung, there are probably things he doesn't know San is capable of doing. He needs to talk to him and that's the only way he'll get the proper story. The only way to get to the bottom of it is finally confronting San about the issue at hand. 

Face to face.

To be honest, he's been putting off the conversation because it's not a conversation he wants to have. It's not easy, nor will the decision at the end be something he wants to do— but he has to.

"I'm sorry, Professor Kim. I don't mean to add to your plate, but I got worried."

"Is Y/N doing okay otherwise?" He nods.

"Think so. She hasn't been saying much. We got into a fight after I confronted her so we haven't been talking."

"Sorry to hear that. I'm sure things will smooth over sooner or later." Namjoon says. "Is there anything else you'd like to let me know?"

"No, that's all. I'm sorry I don't have much details, I'm just worried about her."

"All good, I understand. I'm sure she appreciates it, too. She's lucky to have a friend like you by her side."

"Thanks, Professor Kim. For hearing me out."

"Sure. I'll take care of it and see what I can do, okay?" Jiung nods and stands, slipping his bag strap over his shoulder.

"Can we keep this between us? Please don't mention that I stopped by."

"Of course." Namjoon says softly as he stands to walk him to the dior. "Of course." He repeats.

"Thanks."

"I just can't promise you I'll have any updates cause it'll be pretty confidential moving forward."

"It's fine. I get it." Jiung stops right before he steps out the door. "Thank you again."

"No problem. You know how to reach me if you have any other concerns." Jiung nods before slipping through the door and taking his exit. Namjoon exhales heavily before pulling out his phone to text the person he needs—

namjoon: can we talk in my office? i'd rather much do this today, not later. 

namjoon: i'm free for the next hour and half.

san: yeah. i'll be there in 15 minutes.

namjoon: thanks.

He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to gather his thoughts. It's the hardest thing to approach this as a colleague rather than a friend because as a friend, Namjoon would let this go. He knows San deserves to be happy, and it sounds like he is. That's all he's ever wanted for him especially after all the hurt and pain he had gone through with Iseul and Yunho. But as a colleague, his 'higher-up' even, it's wrong. San's happiness is wrong because it's with his student. A student who is a grown adult who can make decisions for themselves. It's wrong.

So, what does he do?

He feels a migraine coming on, so he tries to busy himself with some emails, making sure deadlines and reports have been submitted. Luckily, the dean is giving him some time and isn't pressing him for answers right this second even though he knows it's on his mind. If he was, Namjoon wasn't sure what he'd say.

He's not sure how he'll get San out of this.

"Yo." San appears in his office, softly shutting the door behind him. 

"Take a seat." San immediately picks up on the vibe in the room and how stressed Namjoon looks. He knows they still need to talk about things, but something tells San it's become much deeper than that and he's not prepared for it whatsoever. No matter how hard he tried to prepare, there's no proper way to be fully prepared.

"You okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He sits back a bit, hands clasped on the surface of the table. "But, I'm just gonna get right to it because I think this is way overdue."

"Okay." San manages to respond softly.

"We need to talk about what happened at the happy hour event the other day, plus that whole thing with Iseul and Yunho." Namjoon pauses before he cuts to the chase. "San, why do I keep getting wind of you being in a relationship with your rotation student?" Silence. "Y/N, to be exact." He looks at him. "Is that what the whole happy hour thing was about? Is that what you three were discussing in the conference room yesterday?" He sighs. "I was try to push this off a little longer until I could figure out how to get you out of this, but word keeps going around and it definitely didn't help that you three had a screaming match about it." San sighs heavily as he sinks into the chair.

"Well, as far as I know, I wasn't planning on discussing my personal matters with Yunho and Iseul. They trapped me into the fucking—"

"San." Namjoon stops him. "Is it a yes or no?" Pause. San just looks at Namjoon and it's enough for him to put the final piece together. Everything had been about you from the get-go, but San still won't say it. He's doing everything to protect you, but this might be it; there's no way he can lie to Namjoon about this, or hide this from him any longer.

It's far too late for that.

"San." He repeats. "This is not the time to try and lie to me. I had two people talk to me about it and an anonymous tip came in that was sent my way."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter." Namjoon furrows his brows and lets out a heavy exhale. "I need the truth from you. Now." The exasperated sigh that leaves San's lips is full of emotions; fear, anxiety, protectiveness, even.

"I'm sorry." Is all San can respond with. It comes out low, barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Namjoon cocks his head to the side, hands on his hips. "Why? I just wanna know why!" His voice is harsh, but he keeps his tone low. "A student, your student? It's damn near everywhere, you know that, right? I don't know how I'm gonna fix this for you, but you know they'll take action against her and probably you—"

"Namjoon, please." San pleads. "Please don't do this to her. Don't take her out of the program. Do whatever you need to me, but don't take it out on her."

"San." Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You should've known better." He looks at him, but San can't even respond. All he can do is shrug and shake his head because he did know better, he just didn't wanna do better and chose to be selfish. "I need to figure this out before end of the day and report back to the dean. I can't force you to act a certain way or do things you don't wanna do. But, for this reason in particular, I'm gonna need you two to stop. You're not interacting with her on campus, you're not going to be involved in anything having to do with her moving forward." Namjoon shakes his head. "You both couldn't wait until graduation or something? I know it's years ahead but you know how this looks—"

"I— no. Things just happened. That's really the only way I can explain it. I'm sorry. The hell am I supposed to do? I can't help but feel how I feel for her." Namjoon sighs heavily, feeling torn between wanting his friend to be happy, but concerned and disappointed for his colleague.

"That isn't gonna fly. You knew better than to get involved with a student in your lab. You can't just risk everything you've built for yourself, San. You have no idea how much trouble you could get into if the school finds out just exactly how deep your relationship has gotten with her— let alone, your own rotation student!" His tone slight rises, but it falls when he sees San visibly shrink and lose eye contact with him. He paces around for a bit, hands still on his hips as he tries to figure out a way to brush this over before it gets way too messy and complicated. "I get you. I do. You deserve to be happy, and who the hell am I to police your actions? But, I can't have you do this to yourself or her. The both of you are grown so I expected you to do better."

"So, what's gonna happen?"

"Well, I'll need to let them know this isn't true and that you two aren't in a relationship. I'll have to remove her from your lab and I'll need to figure out where I can place her or what I can do for her." 

"They won't kick her out, right?"

"Honestly, I can't even be sure. I don't think so, but you two will definitely not be allowed to be near or around each other." Namjoon looks at him. "Are you not even worried about yourself?"

"No, I'm not."

"She's worth it to you?"

"More than anything." San says softly. "Look, it's cliché but you really don't understand." Namjoon shrugs.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I don't wanna take your happiness away, San. Believe me. That's the last thing I wanna do and this is already difficult as is. But, it just had to be her?"

"It did, yeah. And there's nothing I regret about it." Another small silence falls between them before Joon speaks up again.

"Do you get where people are taking this?"

"No, quite frankly, I don't."

"Favoritism, like you two are taking advantage of each other for benefits. It's becoming so noticeable that people are talking."

"You and I both know how great of a student she is. If she's received opportunities, it's because she earned them herself, not because of me."

"That's not how it looks. And perception matters. You know this. Relationships like this are literally a ticking time bomb for your career, the bioengineering department." He's gonna use the excuse that Iseul pulled because for him, as department chair, as someone who needs to keep the glue together for this department, it's true. 

"I don't even see how we're doing anything wrong when we're both adults. She and I both know what this is—"

"That doesn't matter in this situation. There's a power dynamic here you can't ignore. Even if this is real, you hold her future in your hands. Do you understand?" Joon exhales, brows tightly knit together. "What about her fate in this whole situation? Do you care about that?"

"Of course I do. I care about her more than anything." San responds almost exasperatedly.

"Do you love her?"

"If I say yes?"

"Then, tell me. If you had to choose between your relationship or keeping her here, then what?" San sighs and runs his hand down his face. "Think about it. You deserve to be happy, but that girl also deserves a chance to keep going."

"Why can't we just keep it on the low, why do I have to choose? W-we can be more careful—"

"San, don't be stupid. I'm sure 'being careful' is how this all started, right?" Silence. "You know people are going to find out one way or another. It won't matter how real this is to you, to the both of you. She'll be branded as the professor's pet. Is that what you want for her? And you'll lose everything—your job, your reputation, ability to work at other institutions. Plus, the dean is still thinking about your program with Jongho and the real estate. This is going to trickle onto Jongho, too."

"No, of course not. And I don't want Jongho to take a fall because of me. But.." San sighs, his heart breaking the more this conversation goes on. He wasn't prepared to be here today, no. And he wasn't prepared for his mind to start thinking otherwise about your relationship, you. He was always sure of you, but now he's starting to feel like he's been too selfish;

Neglected you and your future plans. Your dreams, your goals.

"You're asking me to break this off. To break off my relationship with someone I truly care about and someone that genuinely makes me happy. Something I haven't felt in a long time."

"I'm sorry, San. I already told you how difficult this is, and it's not my intention to take your happiness away. I just need to protect you two from everyone, especially the dean. Please understand me and hear me. I'm asking you to protect her this way. If anything happens, it'll be the both of you going down and you know she doesn't deserve that either. "

"And If I don't do this?" San asks just to put the question out there.

"Then, can you call it love? Or is it just you being selfish?" San leans onto his knees, head falling into his hands. "I'm trying to come from a good place. Help me help you." He feels a headache coming on, thoughts running at a thousand miles per hour. He hates the thought of losing you; it makes him sick to his stomach. But, he can't even lie and say there isn't a piece of truth behind Namjoon's words. 

Can San really say he loves you if he isn't doing the right thing for you? Is he being too selfish, assuming he could keep this on the low? Assuming he could be 'more' careful with you?

Is he selfish for wanting you by his side no matter what? Is he selfish for saying fuck it?

Is he selfish?

The last thing he wants to do is ruin your career, ruin you. Even if this will hurt like hell, he understands where Namjoon is coming from and knows he needs to put you first.

He's so conflicted. He has no idea what to do or how to move forward. Because as much as he knows he needs to do this for you and the sake of Namjoon, he doesn't want to.

He is scared.

"I need to head back to my office." San sighs and stands, but Namjoon follows closely.

"I don't have much time. I need to let them know that something is gonna be done and I need to prove it to them. You do hear me, right?"

"I do. I just.. give me a little bit of time to think, Joon. Please." Namjoon just nods, meeting San's expression. He feels bad, he really does. And as his friend, this isn't something he wants to do— but he has to. He could easily tell San to keep this on the low, to keep this a secret until things blow over but at some point, he doesn't trust himself to continue along with the story had anyone asked about it out of the blue.

Namjoon watches as San sadly walks off back to his office, eyes trained on the phone in his hand. San sees your texts, and usually, that'll be enough to put a smile on his face. He'll text back right away so you know he's been thinking about you; but today, he's thinking about you in a different light and he's not sure how to stomach it.

When he gets back to his office, he sees a few people from the lab lingering around— even you. You meet his eyes and his eyes meet yours, but he doesn't give you a smile.

His eyes don't glow like they used to.

His cheeks aren't threatening to glow that cute, rosy tint they do when you're around.

He just steps in without doing anything to acknowledge your presence and that already feels way off.

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

—read 12.5 here

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[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; you uncover a hidden truth that forces you to take responsibility despite lingering resentment. as old wounds remain fresh, some refuse to give up on the hope of redemption.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The pack was quiet on the drive home, the usual hum of conversation replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. The truck creaked softly as they pulled into the driveway, the weight of the day still clinging to them like a second skin.

Inside the house, they moved wordlessly, each finding their own corner to settle into. Ghost disappeared into the kitchen, his movements as silent as ever. Price leaned against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed as he stared at nothing in particular. Gaz sat in the armchair, his brow furrowed as though lost in thought.

Johnny paced.

The energy radiating off him was palpable, his restlessness a stark contrast to the subdued demeanor of the others. He’d been like this for weeks—ever since the fallout with you, ever since he had gone after you against your wishes and that bloody day at Konni's.

Finally, he stopped, letting out a sharp breath like a dam breaking. “Right,” he said, his accent thick with exasperation. “I’ve got somethin’, and ye need tae hear me out.”

Gaz looked up first, arching a brow. “This’ll be good,” he muttered dryly.

Johnny shot him a glare, but the effect was diminished by the nervous energy rolling off him. He grabbed his laptop from the nearby shelf, plopping it onto the coffee table before flipping it open. The glow of the screen lit up his face as he sat cross-legged on the floor, motioning for the others to gather round.

The laptop itself was well-used, the edges slightly worn from years of handling. A few sparse stickers adorned the surface—some band logos, a faded insignia, and one that made Ghost’s gaze linger for just a second too long.

A sticker from your apothecary.

The design was simple—your shop’s name in elegant script, accompanied by a small, hand-drawn sigil you had used in its early days. It had been from when you were first promoting the place, when you had excitedly handed them out, tucking them into bags of herbs and tonics for customers, pressing them into the palms of the people you trusted.

“I’ve been… thinkin’,” he admitted, his voice softer now, the words almost awkward in their delivery.

Ghost leaned in from the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest as his gaze moved away from the sticker to his pack mate. “That doesn’t sound good,” he said flatly, tone dry as a desert.

Johnny ignored him, pulling up several tabs and a folder he’d clearly been organizing for a while. “Look,” he said, turning the laptop so they could all see. “I’ve been doin’ a bit o’ research. On her coven. On the town. On… everythin’.”

Gaz frowned, leaning forward. “Why?”

“Because!” He snapped, exasperated but not angry. “I needed tae understand! If we’re ever gonna fix this—if we’ve any chance of fixin’ it—we need tae ken what we’re dealin’ with!”

He clicked through several images and articles, pulling up maps, historical records, and more. “The coven’s at the heart of everythin’,” he explained, his voice quickening with conviction. “The town that surrounds it? It’s no’ just witches. It’s humans, fae, and other folk, all livin’ together in harmony. The only condition is loyalty tae the coven.”

“Loyalty,” Gaz echoed cautiously, his brows furrowing.

Soap nodded, scrolling to a section about the coven’s rules. “Aye. Loyalty. And if they have daughters? The daughters serve the coven. That’s it. Otherwise, everyone’s welcome. They’ve built somethin’ there, somethin’ solid.”

Gaz shifted in his seat, his frown deepening. “Pledging loyalty to a coven’s no small thing, mate. There’s a reason my mum never did. It’s… a big commitment.”

Johnny glanced at him, then at the others, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Price, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. “She’s set to become the leader of the coven,” he said, his voice steady and deliberate. “And knowing her, I’d bet she wouldn’t see it as a burden. For us, loyalty to her would feel like a privilege.”

Johnny blinked, clearly taken aback by the certainty in his tone.

Price leaned forward slightly, his arms resting on his knees. “She already has it,” he continued, his blue eyes sharp. “Our hearts, our souls—everythin’. Despite what happened, I’d say we’re more certain about it now than ever before.”

A heavy silence followed his words, the truth settling over the group like a shroud.

Ghost, still standing in the doorway, finally spoke. His voice was low and even, but there was an edge of hesitation in his tone. “.....I’ll think about it.”

The others turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the room beyond, unreadable as always.

Johnny glanced back at his laptop, his fingers drumming nervously on the edge of the table. He’d expected more pushback, but the quiet agreement—or at least consideration—from the others left him feeling relieved.

For now, the conversation hung in the air, unfinished, as each of them retreated into their own thoughts.

. . .

The frustration simmered beneath your skin, as you paced the length of your studio. Sybil’s steady gaze followed your movements, her head resting on her paws where she lay curled by the hearth. She didn’t move, but the occasional flick of her tail was enough to show she was keeping close watch, sensing your turmoil as her own.

Laswell’s interference had gone far beyond what she’d claimed. 

She’d framed Leah’s arrival as her getting closure—an opportunity to heal. But this? This was manipulation. She hadn’t sent Leah to you for closure. No, she’d sent her to you for salvation.

It had been subtle at first—the way Leah had faltered as König escorted her out of the manor. Her steps had grown sluggish, her face pale, and by the time she reached the threshold, she had nearly collapsed. König had caught her effortlessly, his broad frame dwarfing her frail figure.

Your Mom had stepped in immediately. She wasn’t alone—Horangi stood close by, his expression unreadable behind the tint of his glasses, hands folded neatly behind his back as he observed. Barghest loomed nearby, her keen eyes scanning Leah with quiet intensity.

You had stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, frustration barely contained as you watched with Sybil by your side.

It was when your Mom’s expression shifted—her brow furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line—that your heart sank.

“She’s not sick,” your Mom said softly, though her tone carried the weight of something far more serious. “Not in the way you think.”

Horangi adjusted his glasses slightly, his sharp gaze flicking to you. “It’s… different,” he murmured, his usual cool detachment laced with something more cautious.

“What is it, then?” you demanded, your voice sharp enough to cut through the tension.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking briefly to Leah, who lay unconscious on the bed, before returning to you. Sybil had risen slightly, ears pricking forward, sensing the weight of the moment.

Horangi exhaled heavily, his broad shoulders rolling slightly. “It’s changed her,” he muttered, his deep voice carrying a weight of finality. “Too much time with the parasite inside her—it left a mark.”

“The parasite was in her for too long,” your Mom added. “It left an imprint. She’s… not human anymore.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you stared at her, your mind racing to make sense of it. “What?”

“She’s not a magical creature either,” she continued, her voice tinged with something like regret. “She’s stuck in between. Whatever the parasite did to her, it’s irreversible.”

Barghest let out a low rumble, her gaze fixed on Leah’s prone form.

“Her body isn’t rejecting magic like a human’s should,” Horangi noted, his tone more thoughtful than concerned. “But it’s not adapting to it, either. It’s in stasis.”

“Which means she needs something to anchor her,” your Mom concluded. “Something strong enough to keep her from slipping further.”

Her fingers curled against the armrest of her wheelchair, her gaze steady on you. “If we want her to survive, she’ll need to stay close to a source of magic—something strong enough to anchor her while her body finishes assimilating.”

You hadn’t needed her to elaborate. A witch’s coven, your coven, was the only viable answer.

And that was when the full weight of Laswell’s intentions had hit you. She had known. She had known that Leah needed something more, something she couldn’t provide. And so she had sent her to you, knowing you wouldn’t let her die.

The memory of it made your teeth grind as you stopped pacing, your fingers digging into the edge of the desk. Sybil rose from her spot and padded over to you, pressing her warm, wet nose against your hand. The gesture brought you back to the present, grounding you even as the anger continued to churn beneath the surface.

Laswell had played her cards well, and now Leah was your responsibility—whether you liked it or not.

For now, you had set Leah up in town, close enough to the coven’s magic to keep her stable but far enough from the manor to give yourself some distance. The thought of her being any closer was still too much.

You exhaled sharply, leaning heavily against the desk as your frustration ebbed into something quieter, heavier. Acceptance.

Leah would stay—for now. But the resentment burning in your chest wouldn’t be so easily soothed.

Her visits were a different matter altogether.

No matter how often you told her not to come, how many times you snapped, glared, or outright dismissed her, she always returned. You made no effort to mask your irritation—if anything, you let it out freely, allowing your frustration to cut through your words like a blade.

And she took it. Every annoyed sigh, every sharp retort, every time you turned your back on her, she took it without complaint.

Still, she kept coming back.

At first, it felt like defiance, another way for her to wedge herself into a space where she wasn’t welcome. But as the days stretched into weeks, you realized it wasn’t that. She wasn’t fighting against you—she was enduring you.

As if she believed this was part of her punishment.

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it didn’t stop you from lashing out. When she brought books, you barely glanced at them before shoving them aside. When she tried to help, you found ways to make her feel in the way. When she lingered too long, you pointedly ignored her until she left.

But she never stopped.

“You need these,” she’d say, matter-of-factly, setting a book on magical contracts or ancient coven traditions on your desk with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged.

Sybil would watch from her usual spot, her dark eyes shifting between the two of you, as though waiting to see who would break first.

One evening, after another round of cold, clipped responses from you, Leah finally exhaled, pressing her palms against the desk as she looked at you properly.

“I deserve this,” she murmured, so softly that, for a moment, you weren’t sure you had heard her right.

Your temper flared again, ready to snap at her, but then you saw the way she held herself—shoulders stiff, chin tilted ever so slightly downward, as if she were bracing for another verbal blow.

The fight drained from you instantly.

You hated that she thought that. That she had convinced herself this was justified.

“No,” you said, quieter than you meant to. “You don’t.”

She blinked, but didn’t argue. She just nodded, accepting the statement as fact, but something in her shoulders eased ever so slightly.

You sighed and gestured at the treaty she had been reviewing, your frustration ebbing into something else—something closer to exhaustion. “What were you saying about the wording?”

She hesitated at the sudden shift but gathered herself quickly, sliding the document back toward her. Sybil stretched lazily near your feet, her tail flicking idly, as Leah pointed to a section of the draft.

“This part. The phrasing is vague—it could be interpreted in a way that gives your mother leverage later.”

You studied it, eyes narrowing. She was right.

“I didn’t expect you to be good at this,” you admitted, catching her off guard.

She laughed softly, the sound almost disbelieving. “I was studying to be a lawyer, remember? Before all of this happened.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze flicking to Sybil, who tilted her head slightly as if in approval. “I guess I forgot.”

Her expression softened, and though the distance between you both remained, it felt less insurmountable than before.

Little by little, the jagged edges of your shared history began to smooth. Slowly but surely.

. . .

The dimly lit bathroom was filled with the quiet hum of the electric razor in Ghost’s hands. He held it awkwardly, his fingers stiff around the handle as if it were a weapon he hadn’t been trained to use. Johnny sat on a stool in front of him, a towel draped around his shoulders, his unruly hair ready for the transformation back into his signature mohawk.

“Careful, big man,” Johnny teased, his thick accent carrying a playful edge. “I’ve got enough scars. Don’t go addin’ tae the collection, aye?”

Ghost let out a quiet grunt, tilting Johnny’s head slightly to one side as he began shaving the sides of his head. “Keep still, or you’ll get what you’re askin’ for.”

The clumsiness in Ghost’s hands was deliberate—Johnny had insisted on his help for this reason alone. It wasn’t about precision; it was about the time spent, the bond shared in this one quiet moment.

For a while, they worked in silence, the razor buzzing and the occasional clump of hair falling to the floor. But Johnny wasn’t one to let silence linger too long.

“So,” he began casually, his tone light but probing. “Gonna tell me what’s got ye tied up in knots?”

Ghost didn’t answer immediately, his focus seemingly fixed on the next section of Soap’s hair.

“C’mon, Simon,” Johnny pressed, his voice softening. “We all know somethin’s eatin’ at ye. Let it out, mate.”

Ghost exhaled slowly, his hand stilling for a moment before resuming its work. “It’s nothin’,” he muttered.

Johnny snorted. “Aye, and I’m a bloody unicorn. Try again.”

There was another long pause, the weight of it growing heavier with each passing second. Finally, Ghost set the razor down on the counter and leaned against the sink, his gloved hands gripping the edge tightly.

“I’m afraid,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Johnny turned in his seat, his gaze searching Ghost’s face, even though the mask hid most of his expression. “Afraid of what?”

Ghost stared at the wall in front of him, his shoulders tense. “Of what I did. Of what I could’ve done. That night…” He trailed off, his hands tightening around the sink. “I don’t remember much, but I know I hurt her. Sybil too.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he shook his head. “She’s our bird, Johnny. Our jewel. My everythin’. And the thought that I… That I could’ve—”

Ghost broke off again, his jaw tightening. “She’s not the same anymore. She’s cold now. Frigid. And I can’t help but think it’s my fault.”

Johnny’s usual light-hearted demeanor softened as he listened. He reached up, clapping a hand on Ghost’s arm. “Simon,” he said gently, “ye messed up. Aye, ye made a mistake—a big one. But we all did, mate. It wasn’t just ye.”

Ghost glanced at him, his eyes shadowed and unsure.

“And maybe this was the wake-up call we needed,” Johnny continued, his tone more serious than usual. “We were treatin’ her like she was somethin’ fragile. A wee thing tae keep safe and warm and away from the world.”

He shook his head, a rare note of wisdom shining through. “But she’s not that, Simon. She’s her own person. Her own beauty. And it’s about bloody time we showed her we see that. That we respect it.”

Ghost stared at him, the weight of his words settling over him like a heavy cloak. “And what if she doesn’t forgive us?” he asked quietly.

Johnny grinned faintly, his usual cheekiness returning for a moment. “Then we keep tryin’, big man. ‘Cause if there’s one thing she’s taught us, it’s that we’ve got tae earn it.”

The razor buzzed back to life as Ghost picked it up again, his hands steadier this time. Johnny straightened, letting him finish the job, a small smile tugging at his lips as the tension in the room began to ease.

For the first time in a long while, Ghost felt something close to hope.

banner credit

[akindaflora]

How SKZ would react to you calling them your boyfriend on travels!

Full word count: 2,002

details: Basically I'm going on solo trip abroad for my birthday soon and as a safety precaution I've decided to use low key photos of SKZ members and telling weirdos that they're my boyfriend and I kept thinking about what if I accidentally ran into one of the boys not knowing its them and then to show a photo of themselves saying that they were my boyfriend. I doubt the boys would ever make someone uncomfortable intentionally but I'm extremely jumpy with strangers especially men haha so I could definitely see this happening! Anyway hope you enjoy:)

Warning: One curse word was said! Mentions of stalking and harassment but no actual harassment unless you count Lee Know being slightly mischievous. Also if you do workout please be sure to have a spotter when lifting heavy weights ^_−☆

Thanks again for the support on Lip Mask while that was the first story I posted. This scenario was in the works well way before Lip Mask was even written but due to the support of SKZ Tumblr community, I felt wayyy more confident and comfortable with sharing this idea with you all! Hope you enjoy ❤️

Hyung / Maknae / Masterlist

Bangchan (616 words)

It was the first day of your trip after a long flight and only arriving at 3 in the afternoon you realized your fight against jet lag might be stronger than you thought. The subtle feeling of sleep as you took a shower in the hotel not doing much aid. But with a few light slaps to your face you made your trek outdoors to explore the city hoping the walking and maybe some sugar would keep you up till nightfall. With that thought you grabbed your bag and threw on a scarf to keep the chill away.

So far after walking around for a bit, your shoulders started to tense. There were a lot of people and while crowded spaces aren't that scary there was the possibility that anything could happen. What if someone tried to steal your phone? You did your best to grip your phone in your pocket. What if someone tries to kidnap you? With that thought you began looking around your shoulder hoping to only feel at ease as the city rushed past you but instead, you could see a steady black-clothed figure hurriedly following you.

Panic began to strike. You knew in your research of the city that there had been some issues with men harassing women for dates going so far as to follow them for blocks on end. You knew you couldn't go back to the hotel not wanting the newfound stalker to stalk you even more and worse you didn't even know where you were, the buildings all looked the same.

Taking a deep breath you tried your best to high-tail it out of there only to feel your heart in your chest sink to your stomach when you realized the corner you turned on was mostly a quiet street nothing compared to the bustling city a few streets over.

With a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and swiped to the image of your bias Bang Chan hoping the stranger wasn't into K Pop and would accept the fact that you having a boyfriend was enough to back off.

"I have a boyfriend and this is him, I'm on my way to meeting him right now so can you stop following me," You said eyes slightly closed and phone outreach stopped the man at his pace. After a few moments of awkward silence, you began to talk, "Look he boxes for fun, I’d turn around if I were you," when you got no response but the quiet sounds of a chuckle you opened your eyes to see a very similar bright red scarf. So similar it even has your initials sewn in on the bottom just like the one you're wearing. Without thinking you reached for your scarf in your other hand.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as it began to click. This man wasn't stalking you but out of some weird concern trying to hand you your scarf back. You quickly looked up at the guy ready to apologize only to feel the blood on your face rise even more. God if you were to compare a cherry red tomato to your face it probably be hard to tell the difference at this moment.

"When I said I would protect you all this didn't really come to mind" He giggled a bit more. You slowly put your phone away wondering if by chance there was a pothole you could bury yourself in.

He moved to put the scarf around your neck, “Jagi you should really stay warm come on, you hungry? I wanna get to know my girlfriend a bit better yeah,” he said nodding his head in a direction up the street.

Lee Know (499 words)

Your stomach growled at you as you rounded the 10th corner of the day. None of the restaurants nearby were speaking to you. Deciding that you were far too hungry to look for a decent spot you wandered into the nearest convenience store.

Quickly deciding a particular appealing hot meal you wandered to the snack aisle, hoping to find a dessert that might even out your salty meal. After contemplating a few candy bars your stomach growled again. As hungry as you were you knew the dessert would either make or break your meal and luckily the store wasn't too filled so you knew checkout wouldn't take long nor finding a decent seat. Weighing your options you decided to go back to the cold section.

Not feeling ice cream as it was already extremely cold you didn't need your teeth shaking too, you decided to look over the choices of pudding. But as you looked you couldn’t decided between Carmel or the Coffee jelly. Both were appetizing but what would bring you the most joy?

In your thought of pondering you heard a deep sigh from your left. Not thinking much of it you decided to move over slightly in hopes whoever needed the pudding would still be able to grab whatever they wanted. But as you continued to decided the sigh moved to your right. So you moved to the right slightly at one point you and the heavy sigher moved left to right back and forth that it seemed to be a game this stranger was playing with you.

With your own heavy sigh you put the caramel pudding back deciding the sweet treat would taste bitter from this unnecessary transaction. Quickly holding your head high without looking at the stranger you moved to decide on a drink.

But before you could grab the tea of your choice the sigh came back. Quickly you threw the drink in your basket and then grabbed your phone. Hoping that the photo of Lee Know would cause the sigher to get lost.

“Look i don’t know what game your playing at but this is my boyfriend he’s just around the corner,” you warned showing the lockscreen in the stranger direction.

A loud laugh was pulled that peak your interest, he sounded familiar quickly looking up you nearly dropped the basket in your hands to which he grabbed to help support you.

“Oh but jagi I’m already here! You should be careful you could have broken the jelly” He began to chastise you still laughing with no concern. A quick heat of a blush went to your cheeks as you tried to process this all. Forgetting your hungry stomach as it decided now was the perfect time to growl. The blushing deepens with each giggle. He raised his brow with another quick laugh.

“Come on i’ll pay and then we can go on that date we supposedly planned,” he said motioning you to follow after taking your basket from your hand.

Changbin (374 words)

With the start of the New Year you had grown dedicated to going to the gym. Even going as far to go while on vacation. Ever since you began your workout journey you've had the displeasure of many unwelcome interactions from the male population. Going so far as having to use your bias Changbin as your lock screen. It had worked so far most giving up when they realized how built the man in the photo is and leaving you alone.

Normally you try the buddy system but this being a solo trip you had no one else but yourself and Changbin's photo to protect you. Deciding to start with the treadmill to warm up, you felt the familiar eyes of men as they watched you move. With steady breath, you turned up your music and focused on the TV in front of you.

After 30 minutes you decided to move to the bench press. Deciding that while you didn't have a spotter, it should be fine if you used extremely light weights. You noticed a peculiar muscular guy watching you intently.

You tried to shake his eyes off you got into position but before you could even start the same guy came running over lifting the weight off completely. Unable to hear him you turned your music down after he finished talking and only opened your phone to show him the picture of your saver.

"Look dude this is my boyfriend and he's almost here so I'd step back if I were you," You said not even looking at him reaching for your bottled water. Hearing a big huff of air leaving his lips you finally slowly turn to look ready to set a glare on him. Only to see a somewhat concerned Changbin looking at you as he smirked. A blush creeps up to your cheeks eyes going wide.

"Well seems like your boyfriend already here and wouldn't recommend you dead lifting without a spotter. Why don't you let me help Jagi" He said smoothly. You on the other hand clutching your heart at not only making a fool in front of your bias and the fact he called you jagi.

Definitely proud of yourself for keeping up this gym routine now.

Hyunjin (513 words)

Today had been a tad bit rough on your vacation. Your phone dying so you had no idea how to get back to your hotel that and your favorite shoes had a hole in them the only good thing being that you bought a new pair. And well that you did fine a decent book burning away in your bag asking you to read its text. Quickly trying to figure out your safe haven and hopefully an outlet.

With it being extremely late you stumble upon a bar filled with books and laughter as different types of people filled it. It was a book bar, one of the many to do things on your list, maybe your luck was changing. The bar wasn't too crowded but it definitely wasn't easy finding a spot next to an outlet. Tucked away in a corner you pull out your charger and the book in your bag sipping away on the bubbling beer.

After walking for hours and shivering in the cold the warm bar and the soft chitter chatter of others around you warmed you as the author's words pulled you in. The only problem is that the person next to you kept bumping into your left shoulder. You tried shaking them off which didn't work and after a glance at your still-dead phone, you sighed taking another sip. If only it were on you'd show the stranger your lock screen of your bias Hyunjin maybe his piercing eyes and oozing confidence would scare them away. With your luck, the guy left and you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding in, finally able to get back to your book.

But just as if the universe was testing your patience the same guy, you assumed, came back and began to softly poke you. Luckily as he did your phone turned on.

Without even looking you unplugged your phone showing the strange man your screen, "See this guy he's my boyfriend, and he's supposed to meet me here so if I were you I'd stop touching me, he can be the jealous type and you wouldn't like to see him that way," You said setting your phone down and turning the page of your book.

But the poker was relentless and poked you again with a little laugh. You quickly closed your book marking your finger in the pages as a steady glare brought you to the source of your annoyance.

Though everything went silent or rather your heart stopped as you realized it was the same man on your home screen that went out of his way to poke you. Fuck you thought.

"Well I was gonna ask if you let me plug my phone up too. Didn't know I came off as the jealous type," he said looking down as if lost in thought. Talk about strange luck.

“Hmmm Jagi put the book away seems we need to talk about the boundaries of our relationship,” he said plugging his phone into your charger. Yeah, maybe you should get lost more often.

After writing author notes: I wanted these to end on a goodish note and leave with the boys being somewhat interested but i hope i didn’t feed your delusions too much as this did with mine. Also sorry for the various word counts but some scenarios were easier to write more for than others but I enjoy all the boys equally so I didn't want to write more for the sake of more but just the context needed for each scene! Might be a bit till i can figure out the maknaes i really want the scenarios to be somewhat unrealistic but realistic to the boys interest and things they'd probably be doing on vacations days. If you want to speed up the process I'm open to ideas for the rest until then I believe some more fluff for the other boys are in the works.

Take care eat well and don't forget to touch grass every once and a while ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

[barzfrommarz]

do you have any physical disability headcanons for c!wilbur? if not, how about mental? :0

- harlan

(the c!wilbur fictive of the watchers' vault collective)

YES I DO

-Needs a cane for stability after revival. He noticed the pain starting in late pogtopia but he died before he could address it

-Has been slowly loosing his hearing due to the explosions during L'manburg and on the 16th and eventually from the trains in Limbo. When he comes back his hearing is so fucked he will sometimes completely ignore people without realizing

-Sensory issues make it hard for him to shower because he hates the feeling of water on his skin. His depression also plays a role in his lack of showering

-Intrusive thoughts make it hard for him to function most days. Some days he will spend hours locked up in his house/van constantly checking every lock over and over until he feels better (he gets right back to it a few minutes later)

-His brain is so rattled he will sometimes have absent seizures and no one realizes it. They just think he's spacing out because they dont last long

-arthritis in his wrists makes it hard for him to write, cook, clean etc and he really hates it because he feels like he's weak for not being able to do basic things

-really bad insomnia. Used to take sleep medications but stopped when they started to give him bad nightmares. Now most of the time the longest he sleeps is about 2-5 hours a night. It once got so bad he collapsed and Quackity was the one to find him face down in the sand

-Fibromyalgia causes him to have really bad migraines and some days he cant even get out of bed because of it

-POTS can cause him to completely faint when stands up sometimes but he brushes it off as him not eating enough

-Executive dysfunction hits him hard most days. Sometimes he will just sit there for hours telling himself to get up and then he gets mad at himself for being "lazy"

-HE HAS TOURETTES BECAUSE I HAVE TOURETTES. He hides his tics from others because he fears it makes him look crazy and he knows his reputation is already fucked and he doesn't want to make it worst. This can lead to tic attacks that last a while (and hurt alot)

-His eyesight has gotten progressively worse over the years and he now has cataracts

-His sensory issues make it hard for him to be out in places like las nevadas or sometimes even at a family dinner. He also is really particular about clothes and food

-flashbacks from his c-pstd can cause him to completely shut down for hours and they usually pop up out of nowhere. Some Days he can handle it and others he cant

[squiddlysq]

Finished System Collapse the other day & Murderbot has never been more relatable

First image based on this post by @murderbot-moodboard

[emmyrosee]

hii! if your requests are open, can i ask for a fluffy time skip kenma x hard of hearing fem reader? maybe they can bake an apple pie together on a stream or something 😫 but if not it's totally okay! i understand that not everyone is willing to write about things like that, so you don't have to include the hard of hearing detail but it'd be greatly appreciated if you did!

btw i love your writing! keep doing what you're doing :)) 🖤🖤

You’re nervous. He sees that.

While you’re no stranger to Kenma’s streams or videos, it’s the first time you’d be doing a… collaborative effort, rather than just conversing with him, and it has your head spinning slightly to try and work on the ways you'll be able to communicate with him.

He tells you his holiday stream can wait, and he's more than happy to make this an easy video for you both; you tell him to shut up.

"I'll be fine," you groan. "It's not like I can't hear you, it just takes a second to hit.”

“That’s not the point,” he says simply, watching as you continue to set up pots and pans to bake with, pausing briefly to keep you from getting lost in the clattering of metal. “The stream doesn’t have to be us baking or anything like that. We can just play overcooked or something.”

“They voted for this.”

“I don’t care what they voted for.”

“Yeah, see, that’s where we differ,” you tease, and you walk over to him and tug him to a hug. “Besides, look at the queue to get into the stream; do you really want to be the big, bad Kodzuken who ruined Christmas for his fans as the donate to the shelter-“

“They should be donating regardless of what we do.”

“I know, but we still need the incentive.” He quirks a brow at you and you roll your eyes. “You’re being dramatic, babe. I’ll be fine!”

He holds his hands up in mercy, then leans forwards to start the stream, slender fingers peeking out from his hoodie sleeve to start it.

“OH!”

Instantly, you turn on your heel to look at him, his fingers just a few inches away from starting the show.

“No signs Kenma,” you say firmly, which makes his brow cock in confusion. “I mean it; I don’t need your viewers to… see.”

“See what?” He asks genuinely. “That you have a hearing disorder?”

“Yes!”

“Baby, they know-“

“Yeah, but…” you sigh softly. “They don’t need to see it in action. I’m sure I can hear you fine. We'll just have to work a little bit slower is all."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you quickly make your way to grab some more ingredients, sure to tune him out from whatever he could say. You hear him sigh, and he quickly shuffles over to you to let you know he’s going to start the stream.

Immediately, there’s so much happening it’s almost overwhelming.

Right off the bat, there’s donations flying, alerts ringing in the air of your spacious kitchen and echoing back through to rattle your skull. Kenma tries to talk just a hair louder than everything else, just to keep the flow of any potential conversation going.

You know he’s trying to help… but it’s not exactly helping as much as he thinks it is.

You feel your palms shaking and growing clammy, trying to ignore his questions and comments and focus on the recipe that you can see from the counter.

Bless his heart, he’s working at the end of the day, but he ends up focusing more on the scrolling chat than trying to help you to make a semi-actually edible pie.

Of course you could read the cookbook. That’s not the point. You want to interact with him, you want to pay attention to him, but you’re completely discombobulated, trying to work efficiently and cooly without being both, efficient and cool.

The sounds of his donations and notifications throw off the flow of what you are able to make out, his lips moving but the words not quite hitting your mind.

And you freeze.

Your hands on the bag of sugar freeze, nails digging slightly into the manila in an attempt to keep yourself grounded. The grains shift under your grip, and you try to focus on the texture rather than the heating up of your cheeks.

You’re not sure how much time has passed before Kenma finally, gently, touches your shoulder, snapping you out of a daze and bringing you back down to him. He smiles, “hey angel.”

“Ken…”

“I had to turn down the dono’s; they just got a little too loud for me,” he says, letting a hand gently rub down your back to soothe you. “I hope that’s okay.”

He’s lying, for your sake. You’ve never been more in love with him.

You nod shakily, “yeah no, that’s… that’s fine. Just let me know if there’s a big donation to celebrate.”

“Will do.”

He wraps an arm around you, dramatically for camera purposes but still enough to keep you grounded and comfortable in his grip.

“Just relax,” he encourages, kissing your temple before pulling back and offering you a sign with his hands low by his hips. Cinnamon. “I think we need cinnamon.”

You blink in confusing before he smiles softly. You beam back at him and nod softly, “right! For the filling! Be right back.”

You hear a small call from Kenma, but he’ll have to talk about it later. Once you’re at the cabinet, you rest your head against the cool wood, letting in a sharp breath before slipping it back out. He talks some more, a little bit easier to process now that you’re still, and all you can do is smile to yourself while he acknowledges chat.

You told him you’d be just fine.

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[lightfulonion]

hii @pierogish-side!!! thank you for tagging me!! <3

Last song: This could be us by Rae Sremmurd

Favorite color: mmm really feeling brown rn

Currently watching: OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH WOOHOO!! its so fun (everyone is going through it)

Last movie: The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar dir. Wes Anderson

Currently reading: im currently studying for uni so im stuck at Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and The Course of Love by Alain de Botton :(

Sweet/spicy/savory: sweet forever and always

Relationship status: uhhh im dying and rebirthing from my ashes 👍

Current obsession: .....kiribaku..... im back at it again OTZ

Last things I googled: wes anderson (so i could find out what the above movie was called lmao), werewolf (singular), boku no hero academia wiki episodes (this is a call for help)

Currently working on: im in my last year of uni (lmao pierogish... 😭) and i need to finish it so im studying really hard!!! (and trying to not give up) but itll probably be a while until i get my degree. also i bought an old polaroid from a thrift shop and im thinking of making it work

tagging: @skijjiki, @livingonyoghurtandspite,@peachybeesplease, @horson, @mars-matrix

[nomaishuttle]

not 2 like. detract from how deplorable the rest of congress is but. i am glad to see that somebody from a red state esp a republican did the right thing

[i-luvsang]

i hate being on the verge of tears in public !!! and it’s about fucking kpop i need to get a grip!!!!!!!$;73&38&2$.!’$/$3!/‘j$€{€!{£&jhhdjdhwijwgeieiehhejeiddggdneiwiwhuwjeieuebidnejskaowhhrbdieiruruidieieiehndozi&$:$£7:)3&k$$;$&jhdhiahJh

[sbcdh]

“Oh gosh the fire. Yes it was truly a tragedy. You know, HECA79 was the prototype for the new regulation model. Well, haha, new for the time. It was the seventies after all. It really is fascinating. She was the first one we put in the class N tanks. Fascinating technology for the time, clever as the dickens. You see, the insides of the tank were to be lined with a thin layer of magnetically laminated gold calcite particles that formed a reflective lattice under electrical stimulation. A gold plated one-way mirror for brainwaves! I’m sure you understand, it was the best we could do for 1983-”

“So you subscribe to the, uh, equipment malfunction theory?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh. Terribly sorry. Equipment malfunction? As I recall, it functioned quite well.”

“So you believe the fire was caused by something else?”

“The fire? Oh. Well, I’m not quite sure. I don’t know the exact specifications, but if I recall correctly, there were all sorts of firebreaks and engineers and junior-engineers stationed all around –all helmeted, mind you– to make sure that sort of thing never happened.”

“And yet.”

“And yet. Indeed…Well, between you and me, I think It was one of the junior engineers.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. We were a bit of a maverick bunch back then. Reagan gave us all that research money, but, well, its always a bit different when the wheels hit the pavement haha. Oh. Oh. I hope I haven’t gotten anyone in trouble. They were nice lads all. Well, some of them were Germans, but nice lads.”

“We are more interested in your observations of HECA79. I was told you were able to directly observe her during the incident. If there is anything you can tell us, please, speak loudly enough for the tape to hear.”

“Oh! Oh gosh. You know, I completely forgot we were being taped haha! And you caught all of my rambling! Well, I think I can help you out. Oh yes. Now. You must understand. A good half of this is going to be embellished. You know how memories go, you always get more heroic looking back as time goes on haha. But yes, I think I can help you out. Ah, where should I start?”

“What was the first thing out of the ordinary that you noticed?”

“Her lips were moving.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?”

“By gosh for a plutophant yes! At full emmanation, there is no part of them that is not the market! Every neuron soaked in hypno-amphetamine rocket fuel! Most of them –if you’ll pardon my language sir– shit their tanks the moment their Id touches the sub-finantial background grid! What do you think half those tubes are for! A plutophant in full emmanation doesn’t have a braincell to spare to keep their sphincters closed, much less perform something as complex as speech!”

“I see. Could you make out what the asset was saying?”

“Oh no. No, I’m afraid not. I can’t read lips. Back in those days, they were hooked up to a helmet, and then the helmet read the delta-wave patterns, and then printed that on magnetic tape. That way, we could feed the tape to some lob-, ah translators, and have them interpret the feed.”

“When did her lips start to move? What time of day?”

“Funny thing, almost exactly at 12:03. I should have been off at lunch, but I was procrastinating. I had a crossword I was right on the edge of solving. It was one of those big words that goes all the way across the page. TIMEPIECE. I remember that clear as day.”

“Interesting. I have here that equipment registered the fire almost exactly seven minutes later.”

“Oh dear. Do you understand what that means sir?”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Is that a schematic of the N class tank you have there? Hand it over. Thank you sir. So. Back in 1983, we didn’t have any of the fancy digital equipment we have now. Well, we did, but not to the same degree. Most of our equipment was good old analogue. You see this module here? These weren’t part of our system. No, we were waiting on the replacements to show up.”

“And, what is that part?” 

“Think of it like the uh, ah yes, the carburetor in a car. It keeps everything balanced. Keeps the subjects metabolism steady so they don’t chew through the drugs too fast, keeps the tank at the ideal temperature for chemical reactions, without boiling the subject like a lobster haha. But the key is, it was completely mechanical. But at the end of the day, it's just a bunch of tubes full of fluid that move based on pressure differentials.”

“Which means?”

“Well, heat would throw it off.”

“Here, I think we have a schematic. Now, doctor, this is very important. I need you to explain to me exactly how the machine malfunctioned, and how it would affect HECA79.”

“Well technically, it wasn’t malfunctioning at all. It was functioning correctly, just under less-than-ideal circumstances. Oh, haha. Yes, haha, but thats not what you’re looking for haha. Yes. Well. What side did the fire hit it from? Do you know?”

“This one here.”

“Fascinating. Well. Then, the apparatus would have uh, hm. Oh dear.”

“Doctor.”

“It would have spiked the hypnostimulant feed, while introducing impurities.”

“Which means?”

“I- I haven’t the slightest idea. It would've been deadly, I can assure you that. But its as if…Its as if you had a car, coasting in neutral, downhill at terminal velocity, and then you switched gears to high gear, and then slammed the gas while spraying rocket fuel into the intake.”

“Could we ask you to write a full report on your speculation?”

“Frankly sir, I am as intrigued as you are. You would have to hold my wrists to keep me from writing on this. Fascinating.”

ENCLOSED: FINAL READOUT OF HECA79

"BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD BUY GOLD"[Phrase repeats over twenty thousand times.]

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[reidrum]

you say ‘what a mind’ | s.r.

A/N: she’s back and with fluff! (?) exams were really putting me through the ringer but i missed posting so i fixed up this draft i had, i hope you enjoy :D ive been listening to sabrina 25/8 since she dropped so hopefully song inspired fics coming soon 🤞🏽

summary: you get really excited about something new you learned and spencer gets really excited about you

wc: a short n sweet 1k

cw: none, tooth rotting fluff

_______________________________________________

With Spencer's extensive knowledge of just about everything, you had assumed that there wasn’t much you contribute to his abundant learning.

You maybe weren’t three-PhD’s smart, but you were smart, averagely speaking. But you knew Spencer was smart, and truth be told it intimidated you. He never made you feel bad about not knowing something, ever. Anytime he gets to talk to you about anything his face lights up like the night sky.

There was, however, one time you had come home all excited to explain a concept from class that finally clicked for you. And the first person you wanted to tell was Spencer.

He watched you bound up to him with a spring in your step, bright eyed and wide cheeks as you told him, “I have to tell you about what I learned about today, it finally made sense to me. Like it felt like a real life light bulb final puzzle piece fitting type moment!”

He smiled warmly down at your eager face, “Alright angel, lay it on me.”

“Okay, I know it’s a little stupid it’s taken me this long to get it, but it’s—“

The call of your name sternly yet fondly falling from Spencer’s lips interrupts your self deprecating preamble, “Hey, we don’t do that, remember? We talked about this.”

Your rants almost always started with some self deprecating remarks, and he would always frown and try to interject and shut them down, to which you’d wave him off under the guise of, “If I stop, I’ll forget!” You were smart, but stubborn to a fault. He loved you for it, but it was hard for him to see you not understand the value you held, the value that your voice and your words and your opinions held. The value that he knew with all certainty you possessed.

A sheepish blush rises on your cheeks as you mumble, “Sorry.”

His fingers trickle closer to yours and wrap around them firmly, bringing you to sit on the couch next to him as he pulls your legs over to rest on his.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he says saccharinely, “We’re working on being nicer to ourselves right?”

You nod, he smiles softly back at you and continues, “Okay, tell me what you learned today.”

You start on your long explanation of the inner workings of the nervous system and its intricacies, explaining details and anecdotes that really showcase the inner workings of how your mind processes information.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you in deep fascination, complete with an awestruck smile and glimmering eyes.

He’s met hundreds of scientists, specialists, celebrities even, and listen to them talk about their research in extensive detail and with expansive knowledge. Hell, he’s had to do it himself with his three doctorates.

But as he sits in front of you, watching the person he’s most fond of on this planet watch you talk with so much speed, conviction, passion, with your hands move with purpose and excitement, he truly swears he has never been more in love with you than that moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask cautiously.

“You,” he moves closer, “Are so intelligent, did you know that?”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood for jokes plea—“

“No, my love. You are brilliant,” he moves closer to be an inch away from you, placing his hands on your cheeks, “The way you process information is fascinating. When I watch you explain things to me I can see you organize it in your pretty head. It is actually mesmerizing watching you absorb knowledge the way you do. You’re like, a beautiful puzzle all undone, but by the forces of nature you’re able to put yourself together and bear the finished product to me, to anyone.”

Your eyes tear up, “Spence…what the fuck.”

He chuckles softly, “I mean it,” he holds you firmly, planting you in the roots of his belief, “What a mind you have, darling.”

It’s enough to make you tuck your head into his chest, obstructing his view from your imminent tearfall.

“You can’t just say things like that.” you mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around your torso, letting the other hand take purchase in your hair, gently stroking it down, “Why not?” He speaks softly.

“Because…I might think you're like, in love with me or something.” You joke.

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into your rested head, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s going to be another whole moon cycle before I have another a-ha moment like this again. I’ll have nothing to impress you with.”

Spencer smiles and sighs, squeezing you tighter against him, “You always impress me.”

You groan, “Ugh, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”

“You do know that you’re really smart, right?” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off, “You always underestimate yourself, but you’re really one of the smartest people I know. And I know a lot of smart people.”

A deep sigh leaves you, but he continues, “And you don’t have to believe me. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You and your brain are remarkable, so when you come to me with your a-ha moments thinking I’ll be impressed with your spark of knowledge, just know that I am impressed with you, but it’s more because I get to see you realize just how capable you are yourself.”

The calming motion of his fingers through your hair tether you back to this world, your insides fluttering about like butterflies in an open field. It was hard not to believe his words when Spencer was always so kind to you. It was always so easy for you to play it off like you didn’t deserve it.

But Spencer knew wholeheartedly that you did deserve it, that you were even entitled to it. And he’d spend the rest of his life reminding you. That, you knew for a fact.

“I love you,” you say softly, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me angel, I love you too.” He mumbles in your head, his hand trailing down your sides in comfort.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER FIVE: DON'T HATE THE PLAYERS

violet; 5,460 words; fluff, suggestive content, drama, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, smau-intermissions, miscommunication, fake dating, lesbian situationships rly hit diff, toxic ex!cait, simp!vi, rival!sevika, inappropriate use of locker rooms, vi is down so horrifically bad its kind of sad tbh

summary: in which instagrams are posted, texts are sent, hockey games are played, and you try your best to make it back in time to gie vi her present.

a/n: a lot of things happen here. LOL but i promise they're not all bad! ALSO. the insta post picture IS NOT PERFECT but it was the best i could do. and i didn't have time to commission an artist to draw the exact image that i wanted :( but i hope it at least gives the vibe of the post. and... it starts getting frisky here so... yall have been warned!

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ "OH SHIT, she said that?”

Vi grunts, rolling her eyes as she drops the deadlift bar with a loud thunk, flicking her belt off with her thumb.

“Yeah. I told her to fuck off.”

“Atta girl!” Jayce says, thumping her on the shoulder. Vi casts him a disgusted look.

“If you value your future offspring, Talis, never call me that again.”

Jayce laughs, reaching down to help Vi put the weights back onto the rack.

“I honestly thought it was gonna take much longer for you to, y’know —”

Vi pauses before straightening to pin him with a look.

“What? You thought I’d super hung up on her or something?”

Jayce shrugs, “Well, yeah. You seemed pretty deep in it when you two were together so…”

Vi sighs, carding a hand through her sweat-slicked hair.

“I mean, I was, but… I dunno… seeing her with that new girlfriend of hers… and just… her reaching out to try and — what… sabotage my…” Vi bites back the word ‘relationship’ so she just makes a vague sort of gesture and continues, “really kinda put things into perspective for me.”

Jayce hums thoughtfully, “Yeah, but that Nolen girl’s no joke either. Her whole family’s been in the military — her dad’s some sort of war hero, and her mom’s the daughter of a politician, I think.”

Vi casts him a sidelong glance before scoffing, “Wow. Mel really did her research, huh?”

At this, Jayce jerks up, sputtering, “Well — she just — you know — her family’s also — I —”

Vi laughs, waving him off, “Whatever dude… but I already knew all that — why d’you think Caitlyn even ditched me in the first place?”

Jayce frowns, “Wasn’t it… because her mom didn’t approve of you or something like that?”

“Yep. We had one dinner together, and her mother made it very clear that she didn’t think someone of ‘my elk’ was worthy of being with her daughter. Apparently, having an adoptive father who owns a local watering hole and coaches college hockey isn’t the exact pedigree she’s looking for.”

Jayce lets out a low whistle.

Vi grabs a dumbbell for bicep curls.

“And… it seems like Caitlyn really look her mother’s words to heart. Cause a few weeks later… well, you know the rest.”

Jayce sighs, “That’s… unfortunate. But hey, look on the bright side. Without Cait’s mom, you would’ve never had the chance to date an Olympic athlete, right?”

Vi’s mouth twists into a half-grimace as she puffs out a breath and flexes her arm up, her eyes focused on her form in the mirror.

“Yeah well — not sure what exactly we are right now so… who knows.”

Jayce folds his arms, “Give her time. I haven’t known her as long as Mel has but she’s still a really good friend and…” Jayce allows himself a tiny, slanted grin as Vi pushes through her reps, “Mel wasn’t lying when she told you that we’ve never seen her like this with anyone else before.”

Vi finishes her first set with a loud exhale, glancing up at him.

“Don’t go getting my hopes up like that, pretty boy,” but she’s smiling when Jayce bends down to hand her a bottle of Gatorade, “hasn’t anyone told you it’s not good manners to toy with a girl’s feelings?” she pitches her voice up at the end, wiggling her fingers through the air even as Jayce rolls his eyes.

A few minutes later, Jayce frowns as he turns back to Vi.

“You’ve blocked her number, right?”

Vi huffs, still counting beneath her breath, “— twenty-two, twenty-three — who? What? — Twenty-four —”

“Caitlyn’s.”

Vi grunts, straining through a few more reps before stopping to glance up at Jayce.

“No. Why? Should I?”

Jayce licks his lips, frowning slightly.

“Yeah. Might be a good idea.”

Vi shrugs, “Yeah. I’ll do it later.”

Jayce nods, “Good. Alright — abs, lets go.”

You’re antsy all the way to the airport, checking your phone every four seconds, your knee bouncing even as the cab driver pulls up into the terminal and opens the trunk to grab your bag with a smile.

You bolt through the doors, thanking the heavens that the TSA Pre line is nearly empty.

Just as soon as you get through security, Mel calls.

“Have you got it?” you ask, without even saying hello.

Mel sigh, “Yes, yes, but it won’t do much good if you’re not here to give it to her —”

“I know! I know — I’m at the airport, and just got through security. Are you and Jayce —”

“I’ll come pick you up at the airport — thank god it’s only 16 minutes away from campus.”

“And you’re sure we’ll still make it on time for the game?”

“So long as your flight doesn’t get delayed —”

“It won’t.”

Mel laughs, the sound soft as you speed-walk your way through the terminal, slumping down next to your designated one with a long breath.

“Alright then, darling. I’ll see you in a few hours,” Mel says.

You make a loud kissing noise into the speaker and hang up, your fingers automatically flicking through the open windows till you come to yours and Vi’s text history.

You grin down at it stupidly for a few more seconds before jolting out of your seat as one of the gate agents comes to shake your hand and help you board first. As you sink into the wide, business-class seat, you close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Your fingers fiddle with a thin gold chain around your neck and you bite back another grin.

You tug out the small teardrop locket dangling from the chain and flick open the clasp. Inside is nestled a single violet flower, pressed and perfect, preserved behind a thin pane of shimmering glass.

Vi makes a round of the rink, scanning the crowd with furrowed brows.

Nope. Nope. Nope…

She swears silently to herself, rolling her shoulders as the crowd roars.

You promised you’d be here tonight.

“And tonight, we’ve got our season’s top two favorites for the NCAA’s Frozen Four Championship — the Piltover Enforcers, and the Zaunite Barons!”

Vi grins as the stadium positively shakes with applause. It’s always nice playing on home-ice. Across the rink, she can see the huge, lumbering shapes of the Barons, and her jaw clenches as she catches Sevika’s eye.

They’d been something like childhood friends once upon a time. But after a falling out of meteoric proportions, they’d settled somewhere between grudging acquaintances and mortal enemies. Where they land on the scale on any particular day typically depends on the weather, the orbital tide height, and whether or not Mercury is currently in retrograde.

Though judging by the smirk that’s visible from beneath Sevika’s helmet, Vi thinks it’s nearing the mortal enemies end of the spectrum today.

All the players line up for the face off.

Vi bites down on her mouth guard and smacks her stick against the ice. Sevika skates up to her, bending down so close their helmets clack.

And for a brief, interminable second, Vi thinks Sevika’s going to stay quiet. But the moment passes and Sevika chuckles, the sound low and hoarse and utterly derisive. It sets Vi’s teeth on edge even before the first word leaves her mouth.

“Heard America’s snowflake-sweetheart’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Tch. What’s it to you?” Vi’s eyes flash up.

Sevika’s smirk has morphed into a full blown grin, sharp as freshly turned blades.

She shrugs, keeping her voice low as the official says something or other to both the teams.

“Well… just a lotta people buzzin’ online about her perfect skate at her competition this past weekend and I’m just thinkin’… man… you must not be fuckin’ her right —”

“You —” Vi nearly jerks up, but Sevika presses in just a bit tighter and Vi grounds her teeth down over the mouth guard.

“Cause if you lemme **take her for a spin, you can bet your scrawny ass that she won’t even be able to stand up straight, let alone skate clean.”

The puck hits the ice as if in slow motion; Vi feels a white-hot anger mixed with something very much like hurt surging up the length of her spine as she watches Sevika’s stick make contact with the puck first. But she doesn’t care — she slams her body forward and feels her shoulder check into Sevika’s chest as they both go sprawling across the ice and the puck goes wide.

They scramble up and take off after the puck, now in Zaunite possession, Sevika’s shoulder ramming reflectively into Vi’s as they jostle down the length of the rink.

Vi cracks her shoulder back into Sevika and the momentary gap is all she needs to break away, circling wide behind the goal. Someone shouts Reverse! and Vi feels more than sees the tiny black puck make contact with her stick. Her body moves on instinct, and she’s halfway down the rink before the others catch up to her.

She allows herself a single, tight-lipped grin before someone slams into her back with the force of a speeding firetruck. The world spins, but a second later, Vi hears the unmistakable sounds of Sevika’s heaving breaths.

“Ha. Aren’t you glad your little girlfriend isn’t here to see you eat shit?”

Vi flips around and before she knows it, she’s swinging her left arm into Sevika’s helmet, knocking it askew.

“Vi!”

Vi’s whole body seizes at the sound of your voice, and she looks up wildly, but she pays for it a moment later as Sevika’s fist connects with her jaw and her head snaps back. She brings her elbow down against Sevika’s extended arm, her free hand grappling to keep Sevika’s head shoved against the ice.

A whistle blows and they shove apart, shaking their heads and spitting blood. Vi tastes iron on her tongue and winces as she rotates her jaw. There’ll be a nasty bruise, but it’s not dislocated, and Vi’s suffered much worse at Sevika’s hands.

Half a foot from her, Sevika is shaking out her arm, looking murderous as the official comes up to point them towards the penalty box.

Vi looks around, and halfway across the rink, she sees you, your eyes wide, your hands pressed over your mouth, Mel and Jayce sitting next to you, both looking worried. But you’ve got dark streaks painted on your cheeks, and it takes her a second to recognize the large “VI” written there — her number, her name.

The world melts around her as she meets your eyes, and you look so worried that she almost laughs. This is nothing, she wants to say, you ain’t seen nothing yet, princess.

But the second is short lived as the official skates over and jerks his head towards the penalty box. She sighs, begrudgingly skating over and settling herself as far away from Sevika as humanly possible as the clock starts on their five minutes.

When all’s said and done, the game is a good one — with the final score of 3-2 in Piltover’ s favor. Sevika gets another penalty, but Vi manages to keep her cool. And by the end, everyone’s sweaty and tired, but riding high, and Vi can’t help the way she once more scans the cheering crowd for your face.

But, you’re not there. The seat next to Jayce and Mel is empty, and Vi can’t help the clawing, hollowing sensation that burrows up her chest from the base of her stomach.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Margot teases, bumping Vi as they all clamber off the ice.

Vi narrows her eyes, “What’dyou mean?”

Margot only grins, shooting Vi a wink before following the rest of the team towards the lockers.

Her phone buzzes and Vi glances down, only to see a single line of text from you:

come to the figure skating lockers. i’ve got a present for you.

Electricity zings up Vi’s limbs as she pivots hard left and makes her way down the heavily padded hallway towards the figure skating lockers, tugging off her gear as she goes. By the time she gets there, she’s managed to get most of her upper pads off, shucking them outside the door, leaving her in her loose jersey and pants.

She pushes through the thick metal door into the figure skating lockers. They’re smaller, brighter, and generally cleaner than the hockey team lockers. Vi’s never thought herself a stickler for things like nicer locker rooms but stepping in, she can’t help the way that her eyebrows shoot up.

“Whoa.”

“They’re not all this nice.”

Vi whips her head around so fast she almost gets a crick in her neck at the sound of your voice. And there — standing next to the far row of pure white lockers, with your hands behind your back and her number (her name still painted on your cheek), you.

“Yeah?” she asks, even as she drops her helmet on the thickly padded floor and shuffles forward in her skates. She takes her time looking you over — and objectively, she knows it’s only been a few days since she’d last seen you, but it feels like forever, the way time stretches endless when you’re a little kid on the playground and eternity is just another thing you can take for granted.

You purse your lips around a shy grin and Vi almost groans as she notices the bright pink ribbon tied around your neck like a choker. You’re wearing the little black dress that you’d worn to that sorority party, the one that’s been the subject of one too many of her dirty daydreams — her varsity jacket slung around your shoulders.

“Sweet god, princess… is this the present you have for me? Please tell me it is —”

You let out a soft puff of exasperated laughter.

“No! I mean —” your eyes cut away as you shift your weight from one foot to another, falling back half a step as Vi takes a few steps closer. “I-if you want it to be — this can be — uhm — an additional present —”

“Mm… I don’t think I want any other present if I’ve got this one —” Vi says, inwardly thanking the heavens that she’d kept her skates on as they give her a few more inches as she corners you against a row of snow-white lockers, so bright they’re almost blinding.

“I — well that’s —”

“Mm… cat got your tongue, princess?” Vi asks, reaching up to tug your chin back towards her as you try to glance away.

You suck in a short breath, your lashes fluttering as you meet her gaze with yours — dark to light, amber and ice.

There’s adrenaline coursing through her system, and Vi knows she’s still riding high off the win, off the knowledge that you’re here, and that you’re here for her. She looks you over with reverent eyes, her gaze lingering on the dark paint now slightly smeared across your cheeks in a large “VI”.

“I… I got this for you a while back…” you say, pressing something into her chest. Vi pauses, glancing down to see a small black box wrapped in a length of bright pink ribbon the exact same make and color as the one around your neck.

Vi falls back a step to take the box in her hands, turning it over.

“What is it?”

You shrug, a tiny, bird-like movement. Sweet and almost daring.

Vi grins as she traces a finger along a single ear of the perfectly tied bow.

“Can I?” she asks.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

Vi tugs on the ribbon and it comes loose with a whisper. She opens the box to reveal a simple, teardrop locket set on a golden chain. She picks it up, letting the locket dangle from her fingers.

“Go on, open it,” you prompt, looking both bashful and eager. Vi gives you one more glance before fumbling open the locket to reveal a single snowflake, carved into the thick glass set into the middle of the locket.

“Oh.” Vi breathes, her voice nothing but a whisper. She stare at the locket, at the simplicity and delicacy of it. And then, she looks back up at you.

“It’s — Mel and Jayce helped me pick it — I didn’t know if you even wore stuff like this but —”

“I’ll wear it,” Vi says, letting the pendant drop into the palm of her opened hand. She offers it to you with a lopsided grin. “Can you help me put it on?”

You nod, a bit breathless, even as you take the locket from her and undo the clasp with trembling fingers. Vi grins as she leans in to let you fasten the chain around her neck, reveling in the tiny kiss of cold metal against her sweaty skin as she pulls back.

“So? How’s it look?” she asks.

You stare at the locket, and then up at her, and she swears she can see your eyes go molten.

“It looks… good.”

“Good,” Vi whispers, reaching up to finger at the tiny pink bow still tied around your neck. You suck in a breath, going still against her as she ghosts her breath along the long column of your neck. And she thinks she can almost hear the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage by the way your pulse flutters in your neck — she sure as hell can feel her own traitorous heart thundering away in her chest as she glances from the bow around your neck up to you and back down again.

“Can I?” she asks again, though this time, her voice is gentle, imploring, something like a plea as opposed to question.

She revels in the way your pulse flutters beneath the bright pink of the satin.

“Y-yeah —” you say, your own voice a harsh scrape of sound over a burgeoning need that Vi can almost taste on her tongue. But, she wants to take her time with you, she thinks, so she trails her fingers up to your neck and teases at the rabbit ears of the butterfly bow before tugging one end loose. And just like before, the ribbon gives way much too easily, and something gold shimmers as it drops from beneath the pink satin.

She stares.

It’s a gold chain identical to the one around her neck, with a teardrop pendant strung from it that mirrors her own.

This time, when she glances up, her eyes are wide, almost disbelieving.

Your throat bobs as you clench your fingers at your sides, resisting the urge to lift your hands and help her.

“What…” her voice trails off, disbelieving.

You lick your lips. “Go on — open it.”

Vi nearly fumbles the locket twice before she gets it open, and her short intake of breath is the only sign you get that she’s seen what’s inside. You hold your own breath, watching her face as it flickers through a film-frame series of emotions.

“Is that —” her voice is hoarse; she clears her throat, running a thumb over the glass.

“Yeah,” you say, reaching up to take the open pendant from her, glancing down at it yourself, heat pricking into your cheeks as your eyes settle on the pressed violet.

She’s kissing you before either of you can say another word, and the force of it nearly slams your head back into the lockers but Vi’s hand is somehow there to cushion you, her fingers digging into your hair as you gasp open for her wanting mouth. It’s not a sweet kiss and there’s nothing gentle in the sting of her nails raking against your scalp as she presses you close, and then closer.

It’s a clash of teeth and tongue, skin and sound — your tiny, surprised squeak eclipsed by the low moan that reverberates from her chest to yours as she licks into the hot cavern of your mouth and feels you soften against her — sweet as sun-warmed honey.

“F-fuck princess —” Vi hisses, pulling back with a panting breath as you let your head fall back, gasping for air even as she yanks you towards her till both of you are toppling onto one of the long benches, your legs falling open to straddle her thighs, her hands poised over the round of your hips.

You look down at her, running your thumbs along her cheeks eyes flickering over her face — and the admiration caught behind the fractured glass of your eyes is so obvious that Vi almost turns away, embarrassed. Instead, she leans up to nose into the triangle of your threading pulse, delighting in the shiver that chases down the shape of you, in the involuntary way your thighs squeeze on either side of hers.

She grins, inching her fingers beneath the hem of your little black dress, groaning as she finds the winged hollows of your hipbones and realizes, half a breath later, that you’re not wearing any panties.

“Holy shit — w-were you like this the whole game?” she asks, her eyes going wide with awe.

You bite your lips, cocking your head to one side as you reach up to brush away a strand of hair from her forehead.

“No…” you say, but your voice trails off and you glance towards the side. She follows your gaze to the left, only to find your bookbag sagging against one of the far lockers. A smirk twists her lips as her eyes slingshot back to you.

“Oh wow… so…” she drawls, trailing her fingers ever so slowly up the bare skin of your hips, hitching the hem of your tight black dress further and further up till it’s barely covering what she now knows is your bare cunt.

“You came in here and took them off… just for me?” she bats her lashes at you, her skylight eyes going dark and liquid as she watches you fidget above her. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip and Vi has to physically bite back a moan.

“Maybe I did — what of it?”

Vi’s smirk stretches as she reaches up to tug your face down towards hers, so close you can taste her breath dissolving on your tongue like sugar into tea.

“Princess…” she says, and her voice is so thick with desire it might’ve been spread there with a butter knife, “I thought… you wanted to take things slow.” Her fingers have successfully rucked your dress up high enough for it to gather at your waist, though she keeps her eyes on yours and makes no move to take advantage of the fact that you’re now entirely naked from the waist down.

You shrug up a single shoulder.

“Right… but I also remember telling you that I’m not the best with impulsivity…”

Vi laughs, the sound bright and honest. You giggle, pursing your lips, your cheeks tinted such a darling shade of crimson that Vi doubts rosy-fingered dawn would’ve had the power to eclipse it.

“Good,” she says, reaching up to cup your face with both her hands, bringing you down to tease her lips over yours, her words soft and indulgent, “cause honestly, I’ve never been the best with that either.”

She’s about to kiss you again, content to lose herself in the intoxicating drag of your lips on hers, but a text message alarm blips from her pants pocket and it jars the both of you from your desire-induced trance.

You blink, a slight frown creasing your forehead as she reaches into her hockey pants and digs out her phone. You sit back slightly as Vi clicks on her screen to see a slew of notifications dating back till god knows when, but the latest is sent from a few seconds ago and only reads:

New iMessage from cupcake 🧁

“What the —” Vi frowns.

But a second later, you’re pushing off her lap, and Vi catches a glint of the hurt in your eyes before you’re tugging down your dress and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s Caitlyn, right?” you ask, your voice tenuous.

And for a second, Vi seriously considers lying to you, telling you that it’s someone else — that it’s Powder or even one of the girls from the hockey team, but she sees the fractured look in your eyes and knows that she can’t.

“Y-yeah — it is but —”

You suck in a deep breath, your fingers twisting in front of you even as Vi pushes up from the bench to try and reach for you. You jerk away, your back hitting the lockers with a loud clang that set’s Vi’s teeth on edge, even as she clenches her fist and drops her arm.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” you say, making your swift way to your bag and snatching it up, digging around for your phone before shouldering the straps and rounding the benches again. And maybe it’s the sheer desperation curling up her chest, or the fact that the name had just come up on her screen but when she opens her mouth again, Vi says the worst possible combination of words —

“Wait, cupcake —”

You physically flinch at the pet name and Vi squeezes her eyes shut with sigh. Fuck.

When she opens her eyes again, you’re by the locker room door, your hand poised on the handle. You shoot her a single, broken backwards glance before pulling it open and slipping away.

Vi stands there, held still by the oppressive silence and the bleached-white metal all around her. She’s frozen for a single second longer before she swings her fist into the row of lockers next to her and pain ricochets up her arm from her knuckles, and her fingers pull away, already bruised.

“Fuck!”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes you three tries before you manage to punch the call button on Mel’s speed dial. She picks up after a single ring.

“Hey there, darling — well that was quick — we’re all heading to the after party if you —”

“Mel — c-can you come and p-pick me up?”

Mel goes quiet, and then —

“Darling? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“N-Nothing I just — can you come pick me up?” you hiccup halfway through your sentence, wiping at the fat, traitorous tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Distantly, you can hear Mel saying something and Jayce’s voice answering back. A moment later, she’s back on the line.

“I’ll come get you, but you have to tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying? Did Vi do something?”

“No — it’s — it’s nothing — I just d-don’t feel very good —”

Mel sighs, “Alright then, stay where you are and I’ll come get you. I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Yeah — t-thanks Mel.”

You hang up the phone and dart into the nearly abandoned parking lot, the crowds have long since dispersed, leaving you thankfully alone. You slump against the outer wall of the rink and suck in a deep, shuddering breath, reaching up to rub at your eyes with an angry palm. You cast your eyes up at the ruefully clear autumn night, the moon hanging fat and low, the stars twinkling with their cold, far-off light.

Approximately five minutes later, Mel pulls into the parking lot, mercifully alone, rolling down the windows as you rush forward and let yourself into the passenger’s side of the car, sinking into the seat with a bitten-off sob.

“Oh my darling… what happened?” Mel reaches over to give your hand a squeeze.

You bite your lips, blinking hard at the dark tarp roof of her convertible, clutching at your bag.

“Sh-she got a text from ‘cupcake’.”

Mel stares at you for a solid three seconds before slumping back into her seat and reaching up to pinch her nose bridge.

“I’m going to murder Jayce.”

“I fucked up — I fucked up —”

“Whoa, whoa — slow down — what the hell happened?”

Vi nearly chucks her skates into the already dented lockers just as Jayce makes an abortive move forward as if to stop her. She drops her skates and buries her face in her hands instead.

“Caitlyn texted me, and — and I never changed her contact from ‘cupcake’ —”

Jayce groans, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought I told you to block her?”

“I forgot, okay?” Vi says, tugging so hard on her own hair that Jayce has to reach out and smack her hands away.

Jayce sighs, leaning back against the lockers, looking over the shape of her. He can’t help the tiny grin that hitches his lips or the small puff of helpless laughter.

“Wow.”

Vi looks up, “What?”

Jayce just shrugs, “No, it’s just — been a while since I’ve seen you down this bad.”

Vi flips him off, “Fuck you, Talis. Yeah, laugh it up — look! It’s Vi! Piltover’s favorite train-crash lesbian, fumbling yet another —”

“Y’know, one of the things about being in a nice, committed, completely non-toxic long-term relationship —” Jayce says loudly, cutting her off despite the murderous look in Vi’s eyes, “is that you learn real quick that you’re always gonna be the one that’s wrong, and that your dear, darling, perfect girlfriend will always be the one that’s right.”

He grins, bitten-lipped and open-palmed. Like this, he looks almost like the politician that Vi knows Mel’s parents so desperately want him to be.

Vi frowns, “What’re you getting at, pretty boy? Spit it the fuck out — I don’t have the patience for your bullshit right —”

“And you know what people do when they’re wrong?” Jayce continues in that chipper, Sunday-morning commercial voice of his. He leans forward even as Vi leans back, the frown digging ever deeper between her brows.

“Uh… cry and punch things and shoot for a new PR at the gym?”

Jayce snorts, but at least Vi’s smiling.

“No, you fuckin’ fratbro son of a — you apologize.”

Vi’s gaze goes flat. “Ah. Right. Of course — why didn’t I think of —”

“And then — ” Jayce continues, raising his voice even higher, a finger pointed up in the air as if he were delivering the valedictorian speech at graduation, before he twists his hand and pokes it into Vi’s jersey-clad chest.

“You do better.”

Vi’s breath catches; she blinks up at Jayce before swallowing around the peach pit in her throat.

“R-right…”

Jayce hikes both of his eyebrows comically high. Vi glances up towards them before puffing out a breath.

“Think you can do that?” Jayce asks, his voice now finally back to normal.

Vi chews on the inside of her cheek before shrugging up a shoulder.

“Dunno, but… I really wanna try.”

Jayce thumps a fist into her chest.

“Good answer, Lanes. Now. Phone.” He opens his hand palm up.

She blinks at it for a second before sighing and digging her phone from her pocket and dropping it into his hand.

Jayce punches in the password without breaking eye contact, pulling up her text history and turning the phone around to face Vi as he clicks — Contact > Info > Block Caller — on Caitlyn’s number.

He hands it back just as the screen goes dark.

Vi stares at the long crack running through the center of her screen before the phone lights up again, this time, with a text from an unknown number.

Jayce barely glances at it before smiling.

“That’ll be Mel.”

Vi’s eyebrows knit as she flicks open the screen. There are two texts in quick succession:

i’ve gotten her to agree to come to the afterparty.

Do not. Fuck this up.

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Bloodlines entwined: III | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,460

—  warnings: mention of death, murder, and abortion, crying, kind of heartbreak, nervousness, a tiny growing sexual tension, and some teasing  

—  author’s note: sssooo this chapter finally explains a bit more about the werewolf universe, and i hope it’s a bit clearer for you. a lot more explanations will come throughout the series as i can’t reveal it all in one chapter. the next chapter is actually my favourite and i definelty can’t wait to post it 😊 hope you’ll enjoy this one & let me know what you think <3  

taglist is closed!

Chapter III: untold truth

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook spent the rest of the night thinking about you. He couldn’t believe what he saw. He couldn’t believe that you’re a werewolf.

Obviously, you’re not aware of it otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when he revealed the existence of the werewolf word. Normally, you should have recognized him since he’s the king, but you didn’t. So, he strongly believes that you were adopted. That’s the only reason that could explain why you aren’t aware.  

Now, he needs to understand why you were adopted. A pack never gives up on their little ones. He can think of many reasons why, but he needs to figure out what happened to you. He doesn’t want to simply reveal your true nature without having any certainty.

However, what concerns him is the fact that you haven’t turned yet. Normally, around fourteen years old, under a full moon, you should have experienced your first transformation. Maybe the fact that you ignore everything about that has caused your wolf blood to be dormant.

The next morning, he started looking into every record he has access to about the Shadows. The blue eyes are a characteristic specific to the Shadow pack. Every pack has its own eye color; it’s the way to distinguish every wolf. Jungkook’s pack, the Bloods, has red eyes. However, his eyes have a darker red shade. This is a trait specific to the king; he inherits it the second he goes from heir to king.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung, his best friend makes his way inside his office.

The man looks up at his best friend before a bright smile appears on his face. It’s been a little while since they last saw each other. Taehyung has been traveling a lot lately; he said he wants to discover the world before settling with his mate. However, it looks like he doesn’t want to settle down at all.

“Hey, Tae,” he stands up to greet his best friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you were lost somewhere in France.”

“Well, I needed to come back,” he replies with a smile. “Couldn’t stay forever in France.”  

Both men start talking about what has been happening for the last month. Jungkook doesn’t go too much into detail. He only mentions he contacted a fertility clinic, and that he’s right now concerned about something happening in the Shadow pack.

Taehyung, on his side, tells his friend about all the places he went to. He was in Europe, discovering a lot of different countries. He definitely adored going around and discovering new cultures, new food, and meeting new people. For sure, his favorite place was Paris.

“Do you need any help with those Shadows research?” Taehyung asks casually although his sharp gaze indicates that he already knows the answer.

Jungkook nods, his shoulders visibly tense. He’s never been one to ask for help, but this time he definitely would need some.

“I wouldn’t refuse it,” he answers to his most trusted friend.

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning against Jungkook’s wooden bookcase.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he frowns while grabbing a book.  

“I don’t really know,” Jungkook says. “A record, a mention, a trace of a couple that died or disappeared,” he explains.

Taehyung looks up at his friend before looking down at the book again. By pure coincidence, the book he’s holding is an old one about the different werewolf packs. It’s one of the first books he read; it details the characteristics of each pack.

“A couple who died or disappeared?” he repeats his friend’s words. “Is this by any chance related to a girl?”

Jungkook freezes for a split second, but it’s enough for Taehyung to catch. He’s been very observant, especially when it comes to Jungkook.

“No,” he lies, his voice steady and firm.

Taehyung isn’t convinced; his eyes narrow as he studies his friend. He knows Jungkook better than anyone else, and while he’s very good at hiding his emotions, there’s something in his posture, something in the way he’s looking at Taehyung, that betrays him.

 “You’re unreadable when you want it, you know that?” Taehyung finally says, walking closer to his friend who is standing behind his desk. “But something tells me this isn’t just about finding old records. If you’re diving into the Shadows' history, there’s a good reason behind it. You don’t waste your time on anything without a reason.”

Jungkook sights while running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, Tae.”

“You know I’m here, right? Whatever this is, whatever you’re digging into, you don’t have to do it alone.”  

The werewolf king would love to tell him everything, but he doesn’t want to involve anyone at this stage. First, he needs to make sure you’re a werewolf, and only then, he’ll reveal it.

“I know, Tae. I just need to be sure before I tell you anything,” his voice lowers. “Before I tell anyone anything.”

Taehyung nods, understanding that his best friend will share when he’s ready.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll start digging into the Shadow Pack archives. See if I can find anything about missing couples and unexplained disappearances.”

Taehyung’s aunt is married to a Shadow alpha so it will definitely help. As a king, he for sure has access to a lot of records, but not everything. Each pack has its own secrets, and that’s the beauty of it. If Jungkook knew everything, his job would be boring. There’s always something new to unveil. Like your past.

Taehyung disappears a little while after, leaving Jungkook alone with his eyes fixed on the flames in the fireplace. The shadows dance across the stone walls, but his mind is somewhere else, on you, and on the fragile heartbeat growing inside you. He can still hear it perfectly.

He runs a hand down his face before letting out a deep breath. This was never supposed to go down like that. This mistake was never supposed to happen. But the raw and undeniable truth has already sunk its claws into him.  

How can he turn away from this? From you? From the baby?

He remembers the flicker of blue in your eyes. It’s been replaying constantly on his mind, but what is deeply engraved in him is this connection with you. He constantly feels your presence around him, something he’s never felt with anyone else.  

Even though he’s been deeply sorry to have brought you to his world, this flicker of blue made him realize that he brought you to your world. A world you didn’t know existed until he revealed it. His duty has been telling him to stay away, but he can’t.

The thought creeps in quietly, yet with unshakable certainty: This was never a mistake.  

The world may call it an accident, but Jungkook can feel something deeper, something ancient, something undeniable. Fate, destiny… whatever name it might have, it brought the two of you here. Together.

Every choice and every moment has led to this point. To you.

Now, standing quietly in his study, he feels the truth settling deep in his bones. This child growing inside you was always meant to happen. Jungkook leans against the edge of his desk.

“I can’t abandon this child, my child,” he whispers to himself. “I can’t abandon yn.”

It isn’t about duty anymore. It’s about you. It’s about the fragile life caught between two worlds, and the bond he can already feel forming. Whether he’s ready to admit it or not. Jungkook straightens up, shoulders squared, and jaw tight. The king in him knows what needs to be done, but the man knows what he wants to do.

“I’m staying,” he runs his hand over his hair.

This isn’t just a choice. It’s the acceptance of what was always meant to be. Whatever challenges await, Jungkook knows one thing with absolute certainty: This was always supposed to happen.

For the past five days, Jungkook and Taehyung have been trying to find anything about missing couples and mysterious disappearances, but it’s been in vain. There’s absolutely nothing. Thirty years ago, nothing special happened.

However, Jungkook asked Sungmin, Taehyung’s uncle to meet. Records are one thing, but Jungkook knows better than anyone that there might have been something off records that happened. Some secrets are kept hidden, locked away in the minds of those who lived them.

“Thanks for having me, Mister Song,” Jungkook says as he enters Sungmin’s house.

“I couldn’t refuse my king’s visit,” he replies with a warm smile.

Many people believe that the Alphas of every pack refuse the authority of a king, but those closest to the throne are often the first to kneel. For sure, Jungkook’s natural leadership certainly helps. However, the truth is that the werewolf hierarchy isn’t just a tradition; it’s more than that. Every werewolf deeply holds onto it.

“I could say that I’m surprised, but it’d be a lie,” he admits while he guides Jungkook towards the terrace. “I was expecting it after Tae’s request.”

“I imagine,” Jungkook responds.

The covered terrace is a serene and private space. Jungkook’s eyes quickly scan the surroundings. It’s a little but pretty space. Plates, cups, and a selection of biscuits are neatly arranged on the modest wooden table.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Sungmin gestures for Jungkook to sit.

“A coffee would be fine,” Jungkook answers.

The man takes one of the porcelain carafes on the table and carefully pours the drink into a cup, placing it in front of Jungkook.

“I was originally looking for a couple’s death or disappearances in your pack, but I couldn’t find anything documented,” Jungkook is straightforward.

Sungmin nods thoughtfully. “When do you believe this event happened?”

“Around thirty years ago,” he says.

Tae’s uncle freezes for a brief moment at his answers. His eyes flicker with something that Jungkook recognizes instantly: recognition mixed with hesitation. This is it. This might be the key to understanding your past.

“Something did happen thirty years ago,” Sungmin admits. “But we didn’t keep any trace of it out of respect to the family concerned.”

Jungkook is definitely very intrigued about this.

“The eldest daughter of an estimated member of our pack fell in love with a human. Despite our objections, she decided to run away with him. We all knew why,” he shakes his head as he remembers the sad story. “She was pregnant with that human child.”

The werewolf king listens patiently, absorbing every word.

“We didn’t inform your father immediately as we thought we could handle it ourselves. Involving the king into this would have drawn unwanted attention to this. For us, Shadows, discretion is everything.”

Jungkook nods, knowing perfectly the Shadow’s reputation. They are the ghosts of the werewolf world, unseen and often unheard, but fiercely loyal and deadly when necessary. The Shadows blend into their surroundings, disappearing when needed.

“We looked for them for years but couldn’t find them,” he seems really affected as he recalls what happened. “They were clever. They stayed hidden, and after nine years, we had no choice but to involve your father.”

Jungkook nods, understanding that after all that time, it’s normal to be reaching out to the king. “And he found them.”

Sungmin sighs deeply. “Yes. Your father had better resources than us. Within a year, he found them. Thankfully, this stayed between us and the king. He let us deal with this internally,” he explains.

The air feels heavier now, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on the two men.

“They were living in a totally different city. And they had indeed a child. A ten-year-old kid…”

Jungkook notices how hard it is for Sungmin to remember this terrible event.  

“It was very hard to end their lives, but we had to. The woman, her human mate, the kid, the life they had built… all of it was extinguished.”

Sungmin pauses, his throat tightening. For a moment, Jungkook sees the weight of guilt appearing on the older Alpha’s face.

“Killing a child was way too hard, but hybrids are forbidden. A child of two worlds, carrying both human and werewolf blood could destabilize everything. We told ourselves it was necessary.”  

Jungkook grips the edge of his coffee cup, his jaw clenched. The thought of such a decision sits uneasily within him. He’s not sure he would have had the strength to do that. It is one thing to terminate a pregnancy, but killing a ten-year-old child is totally another story.

“Did anyone else know about this? Anyone outside the pack?”

“No, only your father, and now you.”

“Do you think it’s possible that the child survived?” Jungkook asks, his voice steady but intense.

Sungmin looks directly into his king’s eyes. “We are certain they didn’t.”  

Jungkook leans back in the chair, his mind racing. If the child had somehow survived, if they had slipped through the cracks of fate, then everything changes. And if that child was you… He shakes his head, not sure that it’s possible.

“Thank you, Mister Song. This has been illuminating.”

Jungkook steps away, his heart beating fast. There are too many resemblances between this story and your story.

To yn: hi yn, could we meet tonight or tomorrow?

Barely a minute later he receives an answer.

From yn: hi Jungkook, tonight is fine. Same place as last time?

To yn: sure

As you’re walking towards the location you agreed with Jungkook, you try to understand the reason behind his sudden need to talk to you. This is unexpected for you, so it definitely makes you nervous. Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind about the baby? Is he going to pressure you to abort considering the hybrid situation? Or even worse, has something happened? Your mind races through every possibility.

“Calm down, yn,” you mumble to yourself.

You take a deep breath, your eyes closing for a brief moment. The beating of your heart drums in your ears, and slowly, you can hear it calming down. You can’t start overthinking before you even get to listen to what Jungkook wants to tell you. Maybe it’s nothing serious or something you have to really worry about.

When you arrive, you notice you’re the first one; Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet. So, you decide to sit on the closest bench. You look at the passersby walking around you with ‘Tití Me Perguntó’ from Bad Bunny playing in your headphones. It’s one of your favorite songs.

After a couple of minutes, you feel Jungkook’s presence. Your eyes stare at the surroundings to check if he’s indeed nearby. Your senses are right, you see a man walking in your direction. Even when he walks, he has such an imposing posture.

This presence feeling grows stronger as he gets closer to you, and you can’t seem to look away, as if your eyes are glued on him. Weird things have been happening with Jungkook since you’ve met him, and you can’t quite explain them.

Once he’s in front of you, you stand up, a smile naturally growing on your face. He’s incredibly handsome and charming. Once again, he has opted for a casual look: a white shirt layered under a leather jacket completed with loose, brown suede-like pants.

His strong presence near you soothes you in a way you never experienced before. All the nervousness you were feeling minutes ago is completely washed away. His strong and bestial scent fills the air and calms down your racing thoughts.

For a moment, you remain in silence, but it isn’t an awkward one. It’s actually quite the opposite. His gaze holds yours, and the intensity of his eyes draws you even more. It feels like none of you needs to speak. It is as if the two of you are communicating on a deeper level that doesn’t need language.

“Hi,” you break the silence.

“Hey, yn,” he takes a step closer.

By the way he approaches you, you sense he’s about to hug you or something similar. You prepare yourself for such, but he ends up not doing it. Jungkook just stands there, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“How have you been feeling?” he asks with evident concern in his voice.

As always, being around him comforts you. It makes you feel like you don’t need to hold anything back. There’s no need to hide your thoughts and feelings behind a mask. You can be entirely honest, saying what you truly feel without the fear of being judged. It’s part of the weird things you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook. It’s something you never felt with anyone else, not even an ex. This makes you wonder just how much this connection truly means.

“Very much torn apart by the decision I need to make,” you admit.

“Have you already considered one of them?” he questions.

You decide to sit down on the bench, your hands rubbing your face. Should you be telling him that you’re very much inclined to keep the baby? Isn’t it better if he doesn’t know anything? In any case, he won’t be around anymore. He said he’d walk away.

“I’ve kind of made a decision,” you try to be as vague as possible.

Jungkook takes a seat next to you. This time around, he doesn’t seem to try to look away from you. His deep dark orbs stare straight into your eyes. As usual, he’s pretty much unreadable, but he has that soft expression on his face. It almost looks like he truly cares and worries about you.

“In case you…” he seems to hesitate, but he doesn’t look away. “If you keep the baby,” he continues, and your heart starts hammering in your chest. “I think I won’t be able to step away.”

You close your eyes while taking a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be feeling right now.

“I thought stepping away was the right decision,” he starts explaining. “Every time I tried to pull back, I find myself being drawn to you… to our child.”

The word ‘our child’ sends shivers down your spine.   

“I can’t turn my back on this—not on you, not on them.”

As he says those words, his eyes look down at your stomach, where a precious life is growing. Even though your eyes are closed, you can feel his gaze on you. You can feel it on your baby. You can simply feel Jungkook. His entire being calls for you, and your body responds to it by being completely drawn to him.

“Why now?” your voice trembles as your eyes open to look at him. “What has changed?”

This doesn’t make any sense. Almost a month ago, he told you that he couldn’t father this child because you aren’t a werewolf, and that this child's existence is completely forbidden. Things are still the same, nothing has changed since then.

“You said you couldn’t have this child because of the whole werewolf thing,” your voice tone is slowly getting higher.

Jungkook’s face now seems to soften and it looks like he carries an emotional weight. There is definitely something going on that you can’t quite explain. And it’s scaring you.

“I think…” he runs his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you’ve started to recognize. “You’re not just a woman carrying my child,” he seems to struggle to express what’s inside his mind. “I think you might be one of us.”

His words hand in the air, your entire body freezing. For a moment, it feels like the world completely stopped moving. You blink at him, trying to process the enormity of what he just said. At this stage it feels like, Jungkook likes to make cruel jokes. First, it’s the werewolf world, and now, it’s this. How on earth can you be a werewolf? It’s simply impossible. If that was the case, you would have already turned or something like that.

“What are you talking about?” the sharpness of your voice even surprises you.  

Anger grows inside you, but it masks the deeper emotion of fear that you can feel. Your heart starts pounding erratically in your chest as the air grows heavier. How dare he? How dare he turn your world upside down with this unbelievable claim? You stand up, trying to calm yourself down.

“That’s impossible,” you say with a trembling voice.

You rest a hand on top of your heart, trying to anchor yourself, but the panic bubbling beneath your surface is relentless. The thought of upsetting the baby crosses your mind, but it doesn’t help to calm you.

Jungkook stands as well, hands raising as if he’s about to reassure you, but as he does so, he watches you disappear before his eyes.

“It’s incredible,” he whispers to himself.

Now, he has solid proof that you’re indeed a werewolf, a member of the Shadow pack.

“Yn, listen to me.”

“No, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “I am not a werewolf. That’s ridiculous. If I were one, I would have transformed or something like that.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly. “But you didn’t know you were one so things might work differently in that case.”

“Stop!” you scream. “Just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Jungkook stands there, looking somewhere, but he doesn’t even know where you are.

“Take your phone, yn,” he tells you.

“What?” you say with evident surprise, and your anger turns into confusion.

“Just take your phone,” he repeats, his tone calm but firm.

Still breathing heavily and with shaky hands, you look for your phone in your purse. You’re not sure why he’s saying that or what to expect when you look at your phone.

“Now, pretend like you’ll take a selfie.”

As you look at him, there is something in his expression that compels you to obey. Slowly you lift your phone, positioning it in front of your face. The moment your screen comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. Your reflection is completely gone.

Your mind struggles to understand what is going on. The town square is visible in the background, clear as day, but your face is missing. It’s as though you’ve been erased from existence.  

“What is happening?” you almost scream. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

Your gaze remains glued to the phone, your hand trembling so much that the image blurs. You’re gone. Completely gone. Your hand instinctively goes to your face, touching your skin as though it might bring you back into view. But when you glance at the screen again, even your hand remains invisible. This can’t be true. How can you even disappear? How is that possible?

“It’s not sorcery,” he calmly replies. “It’s you. It’s your nature. Only a werewolf can do that.”

“No! That’s not true. That’s not who I am. I’m human. I’ve always been human,” you shake your head before putting your phone back in your purse. “But I’m carrying your child so that must be it.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“That’s not how it works, yn. I swear,” he’s trying to look for you, so it makes him look like a crazy man. “Pregnancies only bring out even more any abilities someone has,” he explains. “This pregnancy is simply revealing your true nature.”

Tears stream down your face while your heart hurts.

“Have you been experiencing some weird stuff lately?” he says. “Like heightened hearing or smell or night vision or superhuman strength or even super speed.”

Then, your body freezes once more.

“No,” you answer, and for a moment, you hesitate to reveal the truth. “But I’ve always had heightened hearing and smell, and I perfectly see in the dark.”

This all confirms what he says. You’re a werewolf.  

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you add. “I can hear everybody's heartbeats, even the baby’s.”

You close your eyes, the truth violently hitting you. All this time you’ve been a werewolf, and nobody told you anything. You’re not sure Felix knows it, but it hurts to realize that your parents hid something so big from you. It’s your nature after all. 

“You have your answer, yn,” he responds.

Now, you’re crying because the world is collapsing underneath your feet. Your life has been filled with lies, and you’re only discovering this now. It hurts even more that it’s the father of your child who’s revealing this and not your parents.

Jungkook follows the sound of your tears to come closer. You fall in his arms, holding him as tight as possible. He tries to hold you back in his arms, but he doesn’t see you at all. The only thing that can make you reappear is for you to relax. Your emotions are the keys to your powers.

“Focus on the baby’s heartbeat,” he murmurs in your ear. “Focus only on that.”

While tears keep running down your face, you try to search for your baby’s heartbeat. It’s super faint, but you quickly find it. This little sound has rocked you to sleep so many times, and it’s one of the most comforting sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Tudum, Tudum, Tudum,” Jungkook starts mimicking the sound of the baby’s beat.

You close your eyes to only focus on that sound. Slowly but surely, you reappear which reassures Jungkook, and he holds you tighter in his arms. His warm embrace and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat calm you down. He presses a gentle kiss on your head while his hands start to soothe your back. Seeing you like this is heartbreaking, and he hates the fact that he was the one delivering this news.

For a little while, you both remain like this, and his arms feel like the safest place on earth. Even if you hate this entire situation, his presence reassures you. Everything about this moment right now appeases your soul. There is absolutely no doubt that the reality you now have to face is devastating, but you feel like you’ll have Jungkook by your side. And strangely, it seems like it’s the only thing that you need.

Today was a hell of a day!

Everything was simply awful, and it felt like it was a never-ending day. Your mind was constantly thinking about the words Jungkook said. ‘I think you might be one of us.’ You swear you could hear them on repeat all day long.  

Due to how you’ve been feeling, you’ve left everybody on read—even Jungkook. Dealing with this strange reality is too heavy, and you need space. You need some time to digest the news. You need time to simply breathe.

Once you’re at home, you wrap yourself in your Harry Potter robe, lay on the couch, and play the first Harry Potter movie. Right now, all you need is to find comfort in something, and Harry Potter is your escape.

Although the movie is playing in the background, you’re not really watching it. Your thoughts are totally lost somewhere else, somewhere that includes werewolves. You can’t believe that this is your new reality. It hurts deeply that your parents never said anything to you. How could they keep something so monumental from you? Were they intending to let this part of themselves, this part of you die in silence?

Things would have been completely different if they had informed you about that side of you. Maybe you would have sought answers earlier. Maybe you would have explored what it means to carry this legacy. There is a whole culture, heritage, and part of yourself that you’ve missed out on for thirty years. And what hurts the most is that you hate your parents right now. For years, you’ve been hating your parents’ murderer, and now, the tables have turned.

You hate them for what they withheld, for what they never gave you a chance to understand.

This whole journey of becoming a mom has been a complete nightmare. This hasn’t been going as planned. This has been anything but easy. And now, it leaves you wondering if you should really keep the baby. Maybe, you should simply terminate the pregnancy and leave this all behind. But will this be so simple? Obviously, not.

Terminating the pregnancy won’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that Jungkook came into your life to completely wreck your world. Cutting short the life growing inside you will probably just make you feel guilty for doing it. Jungkook won’t disappear, and neither will your wolf side.

This isn’t fair.

Fairness has never been part of your life. It feels like your life has always been robbed. Everybody has been controlling it, making you feel completely powerless all the time. This pregnancy was about gaining control again, but even like that, it wasn’t. A big part of you wants to keep this baby, and you’re very much inclined to keep them. But you don’t know. Jungkook’s revelation still needs to be processed.

“What am I going to do, baby?” you whisper as your hands naturally caress your stomach.

In the end, this baby isn’t a hybrid one. They’re fully a werewolf. You can understand why Jungkook changed his mind. He didn’t want the child because he believed it was a hybrid, something completely forbidden in his world. But now that it’s not the case, he wants to be part of his child's life, if you keep it.

It makes perfect sense, but the hurt remains. He gets what he wants, doesn’t he? The chance to raise his child. But what about you? What about what you want?

“You’re a wolfy,” you continue saying. “So, your daddy wants you now.”

However, if you keep this child, you’ll have to teach them what it means to be a werewolf. You’ll have to guide and prepare them for a life you know nothing about. You’ll have to learn everything with them; every instinct, every tradition, and every secret. You’ll develop your wolf’s abilities together. This life inside you isn’t just a new life; it’s a symbol of your own transformation. This child represents the end of your human life and the beginning of something different.

Are you ready for that?

You’re not sure. You’re not sure if you want to embark on this new journey. A journey where you figure out who and what you are. A journey where you’ll have to dig into your parents’ past. A journey where you’ll have to face your ghosts. A journey where you might find all the answers you’ve always desired to have.

Jungkook seems to hold the key to all of that. The truth, the answers, and the future. You need him, more than you want to admit. He’s the only werewolf you know, and he might as well be your guide on this.

Even if everything scares you, this is what will help you to figure out what happened to your parents twenty years ago. This is the key to finally getting to truly know them. This hasn’t been going as you planned it, but it has been going the way you need it.  

For now, you’re simply going to enjoy this comforting and reassuring movie before truly facing this new reality of yours. Tonight is your last night as a human, and tomorrow, you’ll start to understand what it means to be a werewolf.

For the millionth time, you check that your apartment is perfectly cleaned and tidied. Jungkook is coming tonight; you’ve invited him over to discuss this werewolf thing. You’re incredibly nervous as you’re very scared of how things could go. Are you going to learn some unpleasant truths about your lineage?

Also, you can’t forget to tell him you have your first ultrasound tomorrow. He’ll probably want to come as he’s expressed his change of mind concerning this child. Your child. Instinctively your hand cradles your stomach.

Before the doorbell echoes in your apartment, you sense Jungkook’s presence behind the door. This thing of sensing him is definitely extremely weird, and you’re not even sure you’ll get used to it. But you guess, it’s part of being a werewolf.

You take a deep breath while opening the door to him. As he comes into view, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is perfectly pushed back, only a strand of hair falling on his forehead. This time around, he’s dressed in a more formal outfit. Like the first time you met him at the clinic, he’s wearing a suit. Only this time, it’s a dark blue one.

And it fits him so well.

A smile grows on his face when his eyes lay on you. It warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile back at him.  

“Hi, yn,” he says.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you reply. “Come on in,” you take a step back to let him in.

Jungkook steps into your cocoon, his gaze briefly wandering at the entrance. With practiced ease, he shrugs off his long black coat, the movement accentuating the subtle play of his muscles. Your curious eyes can’t help but follow the way his shoulders shift and his arms flex as he removes his coat and slips off his shoes.

A little grin shows up when he realizes you’ve been staring at him. However, you both pretend you didn’t notice what the other was doing. It’s like you’re pretending you don’t feel drawn to each other.

“Would you like to drink or eat something?” you politely ask.

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I’ve already eaten and drank enough for today,” a little giggle escapes his pretty lips. “I had a long and exhausting meeting this afternoon.”

“Oh,” you simply say. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to eat a bit because I’m quite hungry.”

His eyes inevitably look down at your stomach, the sound of the child’s heartbeat resonating in his ears. It’s such a comforting sound.

“No,” he answers. “Eat as much as you want.”

You drag him to the kitchen so you can eat something while you discuss about the madness that your life has become. You open the cabinets to check what you have, but then, you remember you bought your favorite yogurt two days ago. Without no further hesitation, you move to the fridge, grab it together with a spoon, and start eating it.

While you do that, Jungkook’s eyes are glued on you. His stare carefully follows you as you move through the kitchen. Honestly, he’s glad to be here with you; he finally gets to see you in your comfort zone, and you definitely seem to be glowing in this place.

“Can I ask you what you do for a living?” you ask while bringing the spoon to your mouth.

His eyes follow your hand before looking up. He leans on the cabinets while never looking away from you. Jungkook crosses his arms on his chest and heavily considers what to tell you.

“Well…” he seems hesitant to reveal it. “I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

You tilt your head, wondering what it could be. Is he working with the mafia like you thought before he announced his wolfy side? Or is he some kind of criminal? Or is it the opposite, like a doctor?

“Try me,” you tease him.

Jungkook didn’t know up until now how much he needed to hear the teasing tone in your voice.

His eyes never cease to follow your hand’s movements with the spoon. It’s mesmerizing, holding him captive as if he’s unable to look away. The way your lips wrap around the spoon sends shivers down his spine. Jungkook shakes his head, pushing away those weird thoughts. It’s inappropriate.

“I’m a king,” his tone is firm, leaving no room for doubts.

You almost choke with the spoon in your mouth. Of all the jobs you considered, this one definitely wasn’t on the list. This is beyond unexpected and by the way he looks, you know that he isn’t joking. You’ve seen his serious face so many times now, so you know he’s telling the truth.

“A king?” you repeat to make sure you heard it right.

Jungkook nods, and then, you can’t unsee it. This entire outfit breathes power—and money—, his charisma is beyond magnetic, and he has a strong presence. Let’s not forget about the unreadable face he always has on. There is definitely something royal about him, and he definitely looks like a king.

“That makes the child in my belly a future king or queen then?” you ask half-jokingly.

“Yep,” he answers. “And as a king, I’m expected to give the perfect heir, so the hybrid child wasn’t really one.”

When he explained the situation a month ago, everything made sense, but now it makes even more sense. This child carries royal blood.

“I’m not carrying anyone’s kid,” you playfully say. “A king,” you whisper.

This definitely changes your view of the situation. Now that he wants this child, it makes them the heir to the werewolf throne. The baby growing inside you will one day be a king or a queen. It makes you feel important but scared as well.

“It’s crazy,” you look up at him while bringing the spoon to your mouth once more.

Right there and then, your heart skips a beat when you realize the way he’s looking at you, or should you say, the way his eyes are devouring you. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you in that way.

“It is,” he admits.

“And what does a werewolf king do exactly?” you curiously ask.

“Many things,” he smiles at you. “I’m the supreme leader of the packs which makes me the bridge between them. If any issue arises between them, I have to resolve them and also make sure the werewolves follow the rules. I’m also their protector. I must ensure the laws are respected and nobody reveals our secrets. And do many other things, but those are the most important ones.”

You nod, wondering if these responsibilities aren’t too much of a burden for him. It mustn’t be easy to be the one making decisions, and it definitely sounds like the entire werewolf world relies on him.

“And you?” he asks. “What do you do?”

A bright smile appears on your face. “I’m an Elementary teacher.”

Thinking about the little kids you see every day simply makes you happy. Being able to give those little humans the tools they need to grow in this world is one of the most fulfilling things. This job has been healing your inner child because teaching those young children has allowed you to guide and give them a stability you never had in your childhood.

“Oh, nice,” he says.

The yogurt is now over so you suggest going to the living room. This way, you’ll be sitting comfortably on the couch while discussing the hot topic. Werewolves.

Last night, while in bed, you were mentally going through all the questions you might have for him. There is so much for you to know about this new world, this new heritage. For sure, last night, you didn’t know he was a king, but now that you do, you believe that he might help you a lot more than expected.  

Jungkook sits down next to you, and you decide to face each other.

“So,” you start saying. “I guess you can imagine why I invited you.”

The man sitting next to you nods. “Your wolf blood.”

“Indeed,” you nod as you speak. “I have a lot of questions.”

You don’t even know where to start.

“You said there are packs,” you begin. “Would you know to which pack I belong?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “The Shadow pack,” he pauses for a couple of seconds. “Each pack has a wolf eye color. Mine is red as you’ve already seen, which indicates that I’m the king and member of The Blood pack. The Shadow’s eye color is blue, and for the third and last pack, The Lunar, it’s white,” he explains. “A week ago, I saw your eyes turning blue, that’s how I discovered it.”

The Shadow, The Blood, and The Lunar. Three packs. You mentally register the information he gives you. There is so much to discover about this new reality.

“The Shadows also have unique abilities, one of them being the fact that they can blur into their surroundings.”

That’s what happened to you two days ago after he revealed your true nature. It was just the confirmation of who you are.

“As far as I can remember, I’ve only had heightened senses, but I never came to shift into a wolf. How is that possible?”

“That is something I ignore,” he admits. “You’re the first werewolf who didn’t grow up with her pack’s member. My first guess is the ignorance of your nature prevented it from fully revealing itself.”

You look down at your feet on the couch. It seems so weird that only a part of your abilities has revealed itself throughout your life.

“I’ve tried to find something about you, but I couldn’t,” he admits. “I even reached out to an Alpha of the pack, but nothing.”

“Oh,” you simply say, your eyes meeting his. “Do you think I could meet that Alpha?”

“Yes,” he smiles at you. “I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you, and he might probably help you more than me with your past and even your abilities.”

Jungkook then proceeds to explain how the werewolf world works. There is a hierarchy. Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Omega. Alpha being the highest rank, and you only achieve it once you fully master your powers. Logically, you’re an Omega as you barely know what you can do. Jungkook is an Alpha which makes sense since he’s a king.

If you keep the baby, they will automatically become an Alpha when they become king or queen. Things work a bit differently for the royal family.

Normally, a werewolf experiences their first shift on the first full moon of their fourteenth anniversary. The difference with the royal family is the fact that they experience that at ten years old. It’s quite early in life, but that allows them to master their abilities a lot earlier than any other werewolf.

Obviously, the parents and the family remain by your side throughout your first full moon. They guide you through the pain when transforming, and they stay with you while you’re a wolf. Jungkook tells you that the first transformation is very hard to handle. The pain is unbearable and once you’re a wolf, all your human senses disappear. You’re just a beast. A hunting beast. Having your family by your side prevents you from killing anyone or anything. Slowly and with a lot of work, you are able to control that primal urge.

The question left hanging is when and if you’ll transform. If this pregnancy brings out your wolf blood, there are higher chances that you’ll experience your first full moon. But Jungkook doesn’t have an answer to give.  

Then, he informs you that you can’t transform someone by biting them, that’s an absolute myth. Being a werewolf is genetic. You inherit it from your parents, and you’ll give that gene to your children. Thus, the importance of maintaining pure blood.    

 “For now, I guess that’s all,” you tell him once you’ve asked all the questions.

“Since the next full moon is in two days, I’d like to be with you in case you transform,” he says.

Well, you don’t have much of a choice. There’s this unknown about you, and you wouldn’t like to be alone during your first full moon, especially if it’s painful and bestial.

“Thanks,” you mumble while looking down.

Jungkook offers you a little smile.

“I’m by your side now, yn,” he places his fingers under your chin to slowly lift your head. “I won’t let you navigate this alone.”

His eyes shine with sincerity. You’re thankful that, in the middle of this chaos, you found Jungkook. This man brings so much comfort and seems to have one of the prettiest hearts you have encountered.

“And I’ll support you no matter what you decide with the baby,” he adds.

You remain in silence for a moment, your eyes scanning his soft face. You’ve never seen him this close. You’ve never noticed that little mole under his lips, or the little scar on his cheek, or how perfectly round his nose is. He looks even prettier this closely.  

The decision about your child has already been made, but you haven’t said it out loud yet. Jungkook will be the first one to know, and it makes sense since he’s the father.

“I’m going to keep the baby,” you reveal.  

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

............

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

...............

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.