#OVERWATCH┊ ❛ to be captured would mean the end of the game. ❜ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emoboijk · 5 years ago

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jjk | stardust

we’re all made of stardust, looking to find each other again; one time for the present, two times for the past —soulmate au

12,356 words

Jeongguk doesn't really know why he's here. Well, he knows why. Taehyung's his friend after all. Jeongguk would do anything for him: walk through fire or start a fight. Unfortunately, that also means going to his parties. Not that he doesn't like parties! He just... he also likes video games and beer in his apartment and getting enough sleep for practice the next day.

God, Jeongguk likes sleeping.

Any other night Jeongguk might be three drinks in by now and chugging a fourth, but tonight he's exhausted and he wants to play Overwatch. Any other night he could push the extroverted part of himself to the surface and force himself to have a good time until he actually does. But tonight…

Even the buzz from his beer doesn't lift his spirits.

Tired of watching the stillness of his beer in its red cup, he pulls his attention back to the party. Everyone's crammed into Jimin's and Taehyung's shared apartment. There are various snack foods laid out on the coffee table and in the kitchen. Bottles of hard liquor mingle with dozens of six-packs of beer. There's trash... everywhere.

Jeongguk glances at the watch on his wrist. 12:02 AM.

His eyes do a quick scan, like always, for his friends (it makes him feel better to keep track). Jimin is plastered and fully committed to a game of drunk Jenga with a couple girls from the Poli Sci department and an equally plastered Seokjin. Hobi is teaching a girl from their dance class how to do an advanced hip hop move despite the rather slow Sam Smith song playing over the speakers. Taehyung is talking enthusiastically by the kitchen bar with Namjoon and a few guys Jeongguk doesn't know. It takes him a second to find Yoongi but he eventually spots him in a secluded corner, smirking with some girl from the Music department.

Jeongguk feels lonely. Just for a moment, leaning against the wall with his half-empty cup of beer, observing the party instead of participating in it, he feels lonely. He and the others have been close for so long, have been like brothers for so long... when he realizes that things won't always be this way and they each have their own lives to live... loneliness hits him like a gunshot.

He downs the rest of his beer in one drink, chucking the empty cup in a nearby trash can perfectly without paying attention. He waves absently to Taehyung and the others on his way out, slipping into his jacket and opening the door.

That's where he finds you, bathed in fluorescent light and clutching a bottle of red wine that has a bow wrapped around it. You look so startled to see him there, to see anyone there, that Jeongguk almost thinks you might start crying. Your face is drained of color and the bottle of wine starts to slip from your hands.

Jeongguk's eyes move quickly over you, catching sight of the falling bottle and moving on instinct. He swipes the bottle before it hits the floor, placing one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady.

"Close one," he says, handing it back to you. He doesn't realize that he's too close until you flinch at the feeling of his breath on your cheek. He pulls away too fast, his nose filling with the smell of peonies and lavender fabric softener. Desperation tugs at something in his chest and he watches you with wide eyes, like seeing the sunset for the first time.

He shakes off the feeling and steps aside, holding the door open so that you can see inside the apartment to the party. "Going in?"

You take a step back, hugging the wine even more tightly now. There's conflict in your eyes and Jeongguk takes the opportunity to give you a once over: soft floral sundress, wrinkle-free beige cardigan, soft pink headband pushing back your hair, neat ballet flats. All this and a bottle of wine that... that almost looks like a gift.

You do seem familiar. The polite neatness off your clothes, the apprehension, the hopeless deer-in-the-headlights expression. But Jeongguk finds it hard to believe he knows you from an association with... Taehyung? He just can't picture the two of you even existing in the same space, let alone partying together?

"N-No."

"Oh...kay." Jeongguk releases the door and lets it fall shut behind him. "Uh," he sidesteps you, "bye."

You watch him descend the staircase with a knot in your stomach, following only after you've given him enough time to have left the building. You sigh and hang your head as you descend.

I froze up, you think. It makes you want to cry. Your knuckles turn white gripping the bottle. You feel a panic attack in your throat, the urge to hit your head against the wall making your heart race. You're just so... frustrated with yourself. Why can't I just be normal! Why doesn't my brain work like everyone else's? Why am I so... defective? You think you'll probably end up drinking this whole bottle tonight.

And you got so dressed up, too. This is your favorite dress. On good days it makes you feel confident, like you can talk to anyone or do anything. On bad days, it makes you feel safe, just that much less anxious.

You pause once you're outside. The night air is crisp and it helps clear your head. You sigh into the empty air and let disappointment sneak into the crevices off your mind. At least I can see the stars tonight, you think, craning your neck back to count the golden specks dotted into the inky blue night sky.

You startle when your mind floats back down to earth and the present moment to find him there on the sidewalk near you. He's leaning against a street sign with his phone in his pocket, watching you.

Oh crap. I must look like a crazy person.

Jeongguk doesn't think you're crazy. In fact, you remind him of Namjoon. You have the same kind of absentmindedness. Although, admittedly, Namjoon hides his insecurities better; you're wearing yours on your sleeve.

He's also thinking that you're stunning. The dress and the cardigan and the ribbon-wrapped bottle of wine didn't match the energy upstairs, but it's perfect here. Cool evening, yellow streetlight, and a girl. It's cinematic.

Your eye contact is only broken when a car pulls up to the curb, "Jeongguk?" Someone barks from inside.

"Yeah," he says softly. He blinks, hoping the spell will be broken. But whatever kind of magic that existed before still exists when he opens his eyes. You're still watching him, frozen on the sidewalk. He climbs into the car feeling that same eerie kind of magic snaking around his heart.

That night you dream of him. The way he looked at you on the street. The dewy softness of his skin in the yellow light. The feeling between you both.

You wake up in a sweat, your body remembering something your mind can't fathom. Ghost fingers caress your skin and make your blood burn. You stumble to the kitchen for water, trying to rid your mind of his face. It's 3 AM and you lie awake trying to forget him.

It's 3 AM and Jeongguk needs to sleep. He has practice in the morning, class after that. He was going to do laundry, catch up on some homework. He was going to relax for the first time in a few days, no parties, no plans. Just himself, some video games, and some soju.

Instead, he has long since kicked off all his sheets, skin heated from thoughts of you. The image of you on the sidewalk conjures so many other pictures. But they don't feel like fantasies, they feel like memories. Images of lives forgotten. It's making his blood warm and his body overheat. He burns through his buzz and tries to think of anything else.

The next morning, when Jeongguk's alarm goes off at 7 AM, he feels dead inside but also a little high. It feels like the one time Taehyung convinced him to do ecstasy ("It's a college experience!") and his heart felt like it was going to explode. But that feeling eventually wore off. It's been hours and he feels both hungover and like he could run a marathon. It's fucking wild.

He rolls out of bed, landing on his feet with a thump. His head feels like a 20-pound weight on his neck and it hurts when he blinks. What the hell, he thinks, did someone spike my fucking drink last night?

Jeongguk meanders to his bathroom, wincing at his own reflection in the mirror. He closes his eyes and tries to inhale as much oxygen as possible. If he stays perfectly still, nothing hurts. He hears his phone ding from the other room and he knows it's Jimin complaining. With a sigh and another stabbing pain in his head, he reaches blindly for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

He spits into the sink and looks up at his reflection again. He should probably shave. He should probably shower, truth be told. But he'll work up a sweat at practice so he might as well wait till later. Besides if he even tried to do anything more complicated than get dressed his body might fall apart. He already feels like 110 degrees just standing.

He swipes his phone from the nightstand on his way back into the room.

Jimin: who the fuck talked me into this

Jimin: 8 am dance practice

Jimin: are they fucking crazy

Jeongguk chuckles.

JK: So you're pretty hungover

Jimin: shut up

Jeongguk laughs again and launches the phone toward the bed. He steps out of the shirt and boxers he wore to sleep, relief flowing through him at the cool air on his skin. Maybe I'm getting sick, he thinks.

He pulls a pair of sweats and an oversized tee from his closet, slipping into them before stuffing a pair of jeans and a second shirt into his duffle for practice. He checks there's a full stick of deodorant and the travel-sized soaps Jin got for him forever ago.

He swings the bag over his torso, pausing in front of his bedroom window. He loves the view from here. It's nothing special. His apartment is on the 10th floor, just high enough to clear most of the buildings on this side of town. He can see a mountain range in the distance and the sky. He's spent all semester trying to capture it in his art class, but none of his renderings do it justice.

Then, as he's about to turn and leave, the sun breaks over the horizon and he's struck. His whole body flushed warm and soft pink, an image fogging his mind.

A similar sunrise. A girl wrapped in a sheet wrapped in his arms. The smell of peonies and citrus. A rose gold tint on his skin.

When his mind clears, he's still standing by the window, drenched in sweat. He's breathing heavily but his headache is gone and his fever has broken.

You're already awake when your alarm goes off. You're sitting at your desk with a fan on high pointed at you. It could be 102 degrees outside for how hot you feel. You slept on and off for a few hours, but every time you drifted off your dreams…

You try to clear your head, but his face pervades your thoughts. The dreams were inconsistent and fleeting; there were different scenarios, time periods, and people. But the one constant was him. The stranger you'd met briefly last night.

You run a hand through your hair and shut off your alarm, glancing at your notifications and seeing a text.

Taehyung: you didn't come to my party!! :(

Guilt wells within you and you twist your mouth trying to think of the best response.

You: Sorry! Last minute study group!!

You flip your phone upside down then so that you don't have to look at it. You don't have class for another few hours, but you're so warm that you can't think of anything but a cold shower.

You just stand to go into the bathroom when your phone dings again. Twice in a row.

Taehyung: fiiiine next time then!

Joy: coffee before class?? around 9?

You text back quick affirmative responses and head into the shower.

Jeongguk pulls up to the apartment building in his purple, beaten up Toyota Corolla and honks his horn. It takes three full minutes for Jimin to come stumbling out. He looks almost as bad as Jeongguk this morning, sleep-deprived and hungover but with large purple hickies littered over his neck.

Jeongguk is nearly glaring at them by the time he climbs into the car.

"What?" Jimin says, stuffing his duffle bag between his legs.

"Subtle," Jeongguk grumbles, shifting gears and pulling out of the parking spot.

"Taehyung's a biter," Jimin says lightly. He reaches forward to swipe Jeongguk's phone from the dash and change the music, and Jeongguk catches sight of the Chinese character imprinted on his wrist. Friends.

Jeongguk sighs, squinting out at the road, a pang of loneliness wrinkling his brow.

You're already sitting with a cup of hot apple cider and a book when Joy walks in. She dives through the mid-morning crowd bumblingly, accidentally hitting people and stopping to apologize several times. When she finally slides into the seat opposite you, she's out of breath.

You slide the hot chocolate and ice water you'd ordered for her across the counter. She pauses, somewhat surprised at your thoughtfulness, before smiling and thanking you.

"Sure," you grin and check your phone. Thirty minutes.

"You okay?" Joy wonders, wincing when she sips her hot chocolate and it's too hot.

You shake your head and run your fingers through your hair. "I think I might be getting sick," you say, tucking your book into your bag and sipping your cider again.

"Oh no," Joy pouts, "Are you sure you wanna go to class? Cuz we can totally skip!"

You narrow your eyes at her playfully, "Why would you skip?"

She chokes on her drink slightly and sputters, "Uh, solidarity."

"Of course," you giggle.

Dance practice was...fine. But Jeongguk realizes too late that he's irritable and that dancing isn't helping. Usually dancing always helps; he has to focus so intently on his body and it's movement that everything else escapes his attention. But today he doesn't even know why he's upset so nothing helps.

But he thinks maybe it's because of soulmates. Jimin and Hobi are both in this class, both with soulmates, and they aren't even talking about them but Jeongguk feels like he would rather bang his head against the wall than be near them.

And that's frustrating because he loves them, they're two of his best friends.

He does a series of pop and lock movements that the teacher demonstrated earlier with so much aggression that it's almost like krumping. He doesn't get why he's this angry. The soulmate thing...it's never bothered him this much. He has long since accepted that it's not in the cards for him. And even at his worst moments, he feels more sad than angry…

He leaves class with a half-hearted wave to Jimin and Hoseok before disappearing into the showers. He feels so flushed it's almost like he's going to pass out so he cranks the knob to cold water and lets it run over his hair and back, sighing at the relief as his body temperature goes back to normal.

Suddenly a spasm runs through his body, electrocuting him and sending his mind spiraling. He braces himself against the wall of the shower, the water cascading down his back.

Everything is misty and foggy and the grass beneath his feet is damp and soft. There's a person a few feet ahead of him, staring at the large expanse of the forest beneath the hill. The sun breaks over the horizon and the person turns to him—

"Hey, Kook, you good?" someone says from behind him, a towel hitting him square in the back the head.

No, he thinks, definitely not good. His whole body feels weak and exasperated, his mind hazy with confusion and memories he doesn't recognize. He knows the person he just saw but he can't place it. The memory feels familiar and yet separate from him somehow. His chest tightens uncomfortably.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbles, reaching for his shampoo.

You and Joy split after your first class. She has an art seminar on the other side of campus and you're free for another few hours. You wave her off and turn in the direction of the quad; the weather is nice and you want to spread out on the grass with your assigned novel for Lit.

But somehow, you find yourself in front of the music hall. It's almost like waking up after a blackout, you have no idea how you got here. You've only ever walked by the building, it's by your favorite coffee cart and across the street from the building where you take poli sci, but you've never been inside.

And now you're standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the funky Art Deco designs of the courtyard, with an insistent need to go in. It's like there's a cord anchored in your chest gently tugging you in this direction.

Your brows are furrowed in thought when you see him. His hair is damp and his expression is serious; he's wearing a giant white t-shirt and hip-hugging jeans, and your brain immediately conjures very sexual images in your head. Dirty, dirty thoughts that make you blush and turn away from him.

Jeongguk spots you, too, and it stops him in his tracks. Your back is to him and he can't place where he's seen you before, or even conjure specifically your face in his mind, but your posture strikes him immediately as being the same as from that memory.

His heart hammers against his rib cage and he's sweating, his mouth opens as if to call out to you, but it gets stuck in his throat. What would he say?

"Hey, want to walk together?" Hobi approaches him from behind, clasping a hand around his neck and squeezing comfortingly.

"Uh, yeah," he says, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. When he looks back up you're gone.

Am I fucking hallucinating?

Hoseok is watching him with a concerned look and Jeongguk forces a smile. Best not to say anything, he thinks, it's probably just a bad day.

You're not sure why, but you're hiding. You ducked behind a tree, your heart racing. Your palms and forehead are sweaty, and you lose your breath when you realize why. The dreams.

You peek out from behind the tree to see him walking away with another guy, down toward the science library. You breathe a sigh of relief and step out. What the fuck? you think.

Jeongguk can't focus on his Weather Studies class, although that's not unusual, he spends the entire time sketching out the scene from this morning on the edge of his notebook. Taehyung yawns and leans against his shoulder heavily, peeking at the sketch and saying, "New idea for your art project?"

Jeongguk shakes his head sharply but otherwise doesn't respond. His pencil scratches on the paper rapidly, making quick decisive movements that surprise even himself. His usual approach to art is planned and a bit apprehensive, but he never dives in like this without at least thinking about where to go next.

Now, though, he just has that memory? Flashback? Whatever it is imprinted beneath his eyelids and he can't think of anything to do with it except get it onto paper.

Taehyung watches Jeongguk's profile for a moment in concern. He's acting colder than usual and he's never seen the maknae sketch with such intensity.

Taehyung straightens and tries to shrug it off. It's probably just a bad day. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his lastest messages from Jimin.

Chim: kookie was acting weird at practice

Tae: weird how???

Chim: 🤷🏼‍♀️

Chim: upset about something maybe? Idk

Taehyung glances back over at Jeongguk, a crease forming in his brow as he watches anxiously. Without looking up from his page, Jeongguk says: "Stop it, hyung."

Tae nearly jumps out of his seat, but otherwise turns away, frowning.

Jeongguk keeps sketching and he feels bad. His voice was colder than he'd intended and harsher. He knows Tae is sensitive to those kinds of mood shifts and he wants to reach over and apologize, offer to buy lunch to make up for it, but he's still irritable. He tells himself he'll make it up to him later.

"Bye," Jeongguk says at the end of class without waiting for Taehyung. The elder watches him go with a frown. He clicks to call Jimin before he's even left the classroom, sniffling.

You end up in your building for poli sci instead of the quad, sitting in the hallway outside the classroom to wait another hour and a half. You're sipping on the sugary iced coffee you bought downstairs, earbuds in, eyes closed, listening to music.

His face swims before your eyes. He's so handsome that it makes your heart physically hurt. He's smiling with his nose scrunched, leaning in so that your foreheads touch. His lips are moving but you don't know what he's saying. A warm feeling crowds your chest and heats your skin.

You blink awake to find forty-five minutes have passed. Your coffee is sitting by your side, condensation pooling on the tile. You press the back of your hand to your cheek and find that you're flushed, beads of sweat on your forehead. You feel woozy like you might pass out.

Someone says your name and you blink up at them, your mind refusing to focus. The person kneels down in front of you, "Hey, are you okay?"

You blink again, "Taehyung?" His boxy smile comes into focus and you squeeze your eyes shut hard before opening them again.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side and says, "Taking a power nap?"

"Um, I guess," you whisper, taking his hand as he helps you stand. You lean against him heavily as you start to fall forward once you're on your feet.

"Woah," he says, "Alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm...fine." You shake your head, willing the room to stop spinning and your skin to cool down. Everything begins to straighten out and you say, "Woah, that was weird." You pull away from him and fan your face with your hand.

"I didn't know you had a class in this building," you say.

"Yeah," he rolls his eyes, "there's this logic course I take instead of math." He sticks his tongue out, "Hate it. Logic is for pussies." As he runs a hand through his hair, you spot the Chinese symbol on his wrist, friendship. His soulmate mark.

You force a smile and avert your eyes, glancing over to see your classmates filing into the room. "Oh, I should go."

"Okay, feel better." Taehyung's mouth twists into another frown as he watches you disappear into the classroom. Everyone's weird today, he thinks.

Jeongguk blows off the rest of his classes to run laps. He obviously can't be trusted to be around other people. The look on Tae's face as he ran out of class haunts him; it pushes him to run harder, faster, until his lungs, legs, and heart hurt.

Nothing's helping. He's still so irritable. Like there's something beneath his skin. He skids to a stop when he feels a swell of nausea in his stomach, his skin flushing from something other than running. He stumbles and barely catches himself, sinking to his knees as a memory comes to him unbidden.

"Wooo!"

He looks over. A beautiful girl in the stands with a handmade banner. There's a name on it that is unfamiliar but that is his. Someone bumps into him and he's...playing soccer. He kicks the ball and it goes flying into the net, cheers erupt around him.

His teammates slap him on the back and the girl barrels toward him, arms looping around his neck and squeezing.

Jeongguk blinks and the memory's gone. "You," he whispers, finally placing your face. "From the party." He falls on his back on the track, staring at the sky, unable to shake your image from his mind. "Who are you?"

Days pass like this. Days of endless wandering and a heat so extreme that Jeongguk peels off layer after layer of his clothing until he's laying in bed with nothing but his boxers on. Days of memories and flashbacks so intense it's like a bad trip. Or a good trip? The memories make him feel warm and fluttery, but when they're gone he's left in a cold sweat with a feeling of longing so painful it's like being shot.

You spend the next week and a half similarly. Lounging around in just your underwear and a camisole, fanning yourself with whatever you can find. You can't sleep. Your dreams are so lifelike and you wake up drenched in sweat. And it hurts. The waking up is a nightmare because it leaves you feeling so lonely and lost. You sit up in bed and wonder why you're alone. Something is missing and you don't dare admit to yourself that it might be the person that stars in your dreams, the tall, handsome man who takes you in his arms…

Sometimes you wake up crying. Sometimes you cry as soon as you wake up. Sometimes you stare at the ceiling and wonder if morphine would even be powerful enough to dull the pain.

Jeongguk gets fed up on day nine post-party, and calls Taehyung. It's 2 AM.

"Hello?" Taehyung answers, his voice thick with sleep. Jeongguk can hear Jimin mumbling curse words in the background. "Kookie?"

"Who is she, Tae?" Jeongguk growls, surprising himself.

"What?" He says, confused.

Jeongguk scrunches his face up in frustration, trying to calm down enough to have an actual conversation with an actual person. He breathes deeply.

"There was a girl," Jeongguk says and his voice is like a string pulled taut, all tension, "She came to your party, but she didn't come inside. She was wearing a dress."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The girl, Tae!" Jeongguk snaps, lashing out and kicking the small trash can by his desk so that it goes flying into the wall. "The beautiful girl in the sundress with the bottle of wine! She obviously knew you, but she didn't go inside. Who is she?"

On the other end of the line, Taehyung is staring at Jimin with fear in his eyes. Jimin swipes the phone from his other half and growls into the speaker, "What the hell, Jeongguk? You can't just call us in the middle of the night and demand answers to vague-ass fucking questions! You need to calm down."

Jeongguk has the urge to throw his phone against the wall. He wants to trash his apartment. He wants to go out and start a fight. "Whatever," he growls into his phone, the line going dead.

You don't leave your house for days. Three to be precise. On day four you realize you're running out of food. Two more protein bars, a handful of potato chips, a questionable apple.

You pick the protein bar and lay back down in bed. You're torn between wanting to sleep and staying awake. Exhaustion coats your skin beneath the heat, you feel it in your limbs and your eyelids. You're so tired. And you want to see him. That beautiful slim face, those bright wide eyes. You want to feel his hands against your skin and in your hair, his lips dragging across your shoulders and neck, his voice floating in the air like music.

It's like a drug. But when the high's gone, you're left with a terrible feeling. An emptiness. Loneliness. You chew slowly at your granola bar, fighting to stay awake and losing.

When you come-to, Joy is in your apartment. She has her hands wrapped around your upper arms and is shaking you awake. When you blink your eyes open she nearly collapses on the floor, "Oh, thank god."

"What is it?" You say and your voice is dry and quiet. It hurts to speak.

"I've been texting and calling," she says, watching you with a frazzled expression, "I haven't heard from you in three days!" She leans forward and cups your cheek in her hand, "Are you okay?" Her voice is gentle now.

You look over and into the mirror, surprised to find red streaks on your cheeks. From crying. You haven't really looked at yourself in three days and it's shocking how different you look. You haven't showered; your hair is dirty and piled on your head, skin oily and blotchy from crying. But it's the sadness, so plainly evident in your face, that makes the tears come again.

"I need you to take me to the doctor," you whisper.

On day thirteen since Taehyung's party, Seokjin organizes a get together with just the seven of them with the full intention of having a conversation with Jeongguk about his behavior. Something is obviously wrong and he must talk to them about it.

Jeongguk goes. Even though he doesn't want to, even though he thinks he will probably end up doing or saying something stupid. Even though his skin feels like fire and every bone is filled with lead.

He's the last to show up and he does find this suspicious but he's too tired to do anything about it. The apartment smells like kimchi and gochujang, and he can hear everyone talk quietly with each other. There's music in the background that's soft and soothing so he thinks Namjoon probably got to the speakers first.

Jeongguk slides onto the couch without greeting them. He sinks into the soft pleather and feels as if he could fall asleep then and there.

"Hey." He knows it's Namjoon without having to open his eyes. "Kookie, can we talk to you?"

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes tighter. This is just like them. To do something considerate and caring and try to talk to him about what's going on. But how can he talk to them about it if even he doesn't know?

He opens his eyes slowly and sees that all six of his hyungs have gathered around him.

"Is everything okay?" Namjoon says and when Jeongguk meets his eyes they're dark and filled with concern. It stabs at his heart.

"Yeah, you've been acting kind of weird," Hoseok adds, sitting down next to the maknae. Jeongguk frowns and tries to look away from all six of them at once. He stares at his lap.

"That phone call to Tae the other night…" Jimin whispers. He was angry that night, but now distress is laced into his words.

"Are you mad at me?" Taehyung squeaks. Jeongguk's head snaps up to look at him at that, finding him clinging to Jimin's arm and looking so upset it breaks him.

"No, no, of course not," Jeongguk gushes, shaking his head.

"Then what's wrong?"

What's wrong. What's wrong, Jeongguk? You can talk to us. What's wrong? They're all talking. Talking talking talking. All their voices jumble and hit his ears at once. And he's so hot. And tired. And woozy.

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" He screams, wrenching his hands through his hair painfully. All six of his friends watch him in shock. Most of them have never heard Jeongguk so much as raise his voice. Now his hair is plastered to his forehead, there are deep purple shadows beneath his eyes, he looks pale and sunken.

"Kookie, when was the last time you slept?" Jimin wonders softly.

Jeongguk clenches his jaw, "I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her."

A look goes around the group before Jin finally steps forward and presses a hand to Jeongguk's forehead. "You're burning up."

Jeongguk nods, leaning into the cool temperature of Jin's palm. He speaks softly now, exhausted, "For days."

"Maybe we should take him to a hospital," Taehyung suggests quietly.

"When did this start, Kook?" Yoongi steps forward.

"Last week, after Tae's party." He pauses as Hoseok hands him a glass of water, gulping it down quickly.

"After you met that girl?" Namjoon says suddenly, his voice strung with tension, "Taehyung's friend?"

Jeongguk nods, letting Jin and Hoseok guide him to a chair at the kitchen table. Immediately, he leans against the table's surface, pressing his cheek against the cool wood and exhaling softly.

"Okay, okay," Namjoon says, flinging his hands in the air dramatically, "Wait a sec!"

"What? Namjoon—" Hoseok starts, but he's already run from the room.

Jimin sits beside their youngest member at the table, pushing the messy mop of dark hair from his forehead paternally. He presses the back of his hand to Jeongguk's skin and whispers softly, "It's going to be okay."

"Got it!" Namjoon says, losing his balance, socks sliding against the hardwood floor as he runs back into the room. He rights himself and sits on the other end of the table, opening the book he's brought with him and flipping through it.

"Okay," Namjoon scans the page, his finger flying fast down the text until he reaches a certain point, "Ha! Okay Kook, so you've been having hot flashes? A fever since that day?"

Jeongguk nods half-heartedly. The coolness of the table and the water have helped, he feels like someone drowning finally breaking through the surface. But he's still barely treading water.

"Have you been experiencing vivid, life-like dreams, daydreams, or memories?" Namjoon reads, some of the others coming to stand behind him, looks of shock on their faces as they realize what he's reading.

"Yes," Jeongguk groans, "I can't sleep."

"Do they focus on a particular event or person?"

Jeongguk sits up at that, leaning back in his chair and mustering as quizzical a glare as he can summon. "Yes, always her."

"Does your mind wander and you suddenly find yourself somewhere you've never been before but that seems familiar?"

Jeongguk thinks of the bookshop on the outskirts of town. "Yes."

"Have you found any birthmarks or tattoo-like marks on your body since the fever and the dreams started?" All six pairs of eyes watch him expectantly.

"What?" He says, "No."

Jimin's brow furrows. "But what about the heart-shaped mark on your forehead, by your hairline? That hasn't always been there has it?"

"The what?"

Jeongguk pulls out his phone faster than he thought possible, switching it to selfie mode and pulling his hair away from his face. Holy fucking shit. There's a pale pink heart peeking out from his hairline.

"It's a Late-Onset Soulmate Bond!" Namjoon exclaims, slamming his book shut to reveal the title. Modern Soulmate Science and Theory.

"What does that mean?" Taehyung wonders.

"According to my class, it's an incredibly rare type of soulmate bond. As you know, 98% of soulmate bonds occur in adolescence, with a person's individual bond type manifesting around puberty, usually represented by a mark on the body. 1.9% never manifest a soulmate bond at all. And the remaining 0.1% are assumed to have no soulmate bond, but then meet their soulmate later in life, resulting in these symptoms," Namjoon explains.

"But why are they so severe?" Yoongi says.

"Yeah, when my soulmate bond manifested I was only out of school for a day," Taehyung adds.

"Adolescent bodies and minds are more elastic and are thus more adaptable to changes. When a soulmate bond manifests, it takes less out of an adolescent body. It's also theorized that Late-Onset Soulmate Bonds are borne of past lives, and it's only when the two souls physically meet that the bond can be reawakened. Of course, this theory has been often hypothesized because of the memory-like dreams experienced by the soulmates, but research thus far has been inconclusive. At least…" Namjoon says, finally looking around to find his friends dumbfounded, "that's what my textbook says."

"So, she's my soulmate?" Jeongguk says softly. He's gone completely still.

"I think so, Kook," Hoseok beams down at him.

"I...I have a soulmate?"

The doctor is smiling at you so warmly that it's starting to give you the creeps. You can tell she's expecting you to react a certain way - cry, cheer, hug her maybe - but all you feel is shock.

"What...does this mean?"

The doctor blinks as if you'd asked her to explain the meaning of life. It takes her a moment to respond, "You find them, of course."

"How do I do that?"

"It's whoever it was when the symptoms first started." She's still looking at you like you're going to cry from happiness.

"Will the symptoms stop?"

The doctor nods. "Yes, to abate the symptoms, you have to..." her faces scrunches up, "exchange bodily fluids."

"I'm sorry, what?" you stutter, "We have to...do we have to—"

"Oh!" the doctor shakes her head, "While that would do it, a kiss will suffice."

You leave the clinic fifteen minutes later. The doctor is still watching you expectantly but you can't find it in yourself to have a big flood of emotion. You don't feel that way. You've seen soulmate matches in real life before, there's always tears and giant grins. The love becomes almost palpable.

But all you feel is apprehensive.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't spent most of middle and high school daydreaming of having a soulmate. But after it became clear that you didn't have one...it was just too painful to keep daydreaming. So you closed off that part of yourself with a heavy padlock, resigned to your fate.

You're not sure you even have the key to unlock it anymore.

You're standing on the sidewalk with your phone in your hands. Alone. Joy was running late for work and, although it took some convincing, she left.

You stare at the black screen. You know who it is; you're... soulmate. Your mind skips on the word, it feels awkward in your mouth. But it's obviously that stranger from the night of the party. You can conjure his face in your mind easily now. And if the doctor is correct, you've seen his face from dozens of different lifetimes.

Meeting him would be as simple as texting Taehyung. But there's apprehension caged in your chest like a nervous bird.

Ding!

But it looks like you won't have a choice.

Unknown Number: Hi, this is Jeongguk. I'm a friend of Taehyung's.

"Are you sure I should've texted her?" Jeongguk worries his bottom lip and stares at his phone. His hands are shaky and the smell of ramen coming from the kitchen makes his stomach growl. He turns to look wide-eyed at him, "Are you sure it's her?"

Taehyung nods, "She's the only person I know who could match the description you gave me."

When a full minute passes and the screen still holds only his message and 'delivered' Jeongguk thunks his head against the table heavily. Yoongi snorts a laugh out through his nose at this and when Jeongguk turns his head to glare at him the elder keeps his eyes on his phone. But he's still grinning.

"Kook, it's going to be fine," Jimin says, taking the bowl of noodles Jin handed him and placing it on the table by Jeongguk.

"Maybe she's just busy?" Hoseok offers, taking his own bowl.

Jeongguk hits his head softly against the table a couple of times. He sits up, pausing when he feels the telltale signs of a flashback under his skin.

A small retro apartment with linoleum floors. A kitchen with pale green cabinets. A flimsy card table and folding chairs. And you, in a ratty apron smiling at him like there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

Jeongguk shakes his head and the memory dissipates. His chest feels a little lighter, though, and his fever's gone. The memory infuses him with confidence. As awkward and weird as the next part is, it's meant to be.

When he looks up, everyone is now seated at the table and they are all staring at him. "What?"

"Well, aren't you going to see what she said?" Yoongi asks, deadpan.

Jeongguk looks down at his phone. It's lit up with a message from you.

You: The one I met at the party?

You: I guess we need to talk...

Jeongguk's not sure what he was expecting. But he wasn't sure he had ever anticipated this level of awkwardness. If he's being honest, he was hoping for one of those heartfelt soulmate matches he's witnessed from the sidelines for so long. But you're just sitting opposite from him at a coffee shop, staring at the mug of hot cocoa you'd ordered.

Your face looks so uncomfortable. So, instead, he watches your hands as they trace the funky art design on the mug, shift it back and forth. His focus catapults him into a flashback.

You're both still sitting at a table, one that's small and wooden and sturdy. The mug in your hands this time is black and glazed and he knows that he's the one who made it. You're smiling.

He's gotten so used to the flashbacks now that it doesn't take any effort for him to adjust back to the present. All he thinks about is that he wants to see you smile now, at him in the present.

His chest hurts with longing. Maybe it's worse to know he has a soulmate and not be with them. At least before his pining was arbitrary and foundationless.

"Are you okay?"

He looks up from the mug and you're staring at him openly, your eyes wide and concerned. He tilts his head, "Huh?"

"What was that?" You wonder, "You like...zoned out for a second."

"Flashback," Jeongguk frowns.

"What?"

"You don't get...flashbacks?" He stares.

You shake your head, "Dreams."

"Dreams?"

He hopes you'll elaborate, but you just stare down at the table. His heart feels heavy.

Your mind is blank. You feel so nervous and anxious that unshed tears are burning your eyes. You feel like a disappointment. You feel like you're doing this wrong, like you should be more and do better.

Your bottom lip is bruising from chewing on it nervously. You haven't even taken a drink of your hot cocoa.

It's so weird, him being here. You've seen his face over a dozen times since that first night but it's different when he's here. When he's so close that you could run your fingers through his hair or draw stars on his cheeks or run your thumb over his bottom lip.

Desire swirls in your stomach and turns to disappointment. So many things you want and feel you don't deserve. So many things you had accepted that you would never have and here they are. The possibility hurts more than the clear cut absence.

He starts to drum his fingers against the table and you let your eyes move over to them. It's his right hand, littered with tattoos. There are sets of initials on his knuckles, a heart on the back of his hand, a smiley face on one of his fingers. They're kind of quirky and you like them. You want to know what they mean.

Jeongguk's hand freezes when he sees you staring. You blush and look away. He's surprised to find that this gives him hope. You're interested. There's just something stopping you.

He can work with that.

"So," he tries again, "how do you know Taehyung?"

Jeongguk is relieved when you look up at him. It's odd to think but he really likes your face. Clear, expressive eyes and soft lips. And when you're looking at him...everything clicks. It's like finding his place in the world. Finally, obviously. It's by your side.

You narrow your eyes, "He didn't tell you?"

Jeongguk shakes his head and sips at his ice water. He holds his hands up as quotation marks and says, "It's something the two of you should talk about." He shrugs, running his fingers through his hair, "Why? Is it bad?"

You sigh and sip your cocoa to buy time. "No."

Jeongguk opens his mouth to say something, his eyes alive with the playful comment he had planned, but he's interrupted by a crash.

Directly beside you, a man drops his mug of coffee and it shatters on the ground, splashing your leg, shards of porcelain slicing your ankle.

You gasp, but your reaction is lost when you see the scene play out before you. The man who dropped the cup is wearing khakis and a button-down, but more noticeably there is a large, dark birthmark spanning his cheek, jaw, and neck. Across the room his eyes have found a woman, older than he is, dressed in a bohemian-style, with the exact same mark on her face.

Soulmates.

You'd seen this play out before and avert your eyes.

Jeongguk watches every detail. It's hard to describe, and others say that to truly understand, you have to experience it. But it's almost like the world slows down for these people, everything else fades and it's just them and the start of their new life.

When Jeongguk's eyes find you again, he's surprised to see how painful you find this. There are tears in your eyes.

"Hey, are you okay? I know that it can be—" He holds his hand out but stops himself short of touching you.

You shake your head. He's not wrong, that is part of it; these displays have always...bothered you. But it's mostly, "My leg," you wince.

Jeongguk's eyebrows rise to his hairline and he ducks over and beneath the table to inspect your leg. The whole side of your calf is soaked and the exposed skin of your ankle beneath your cuffed jeans is flushed from the hot coffee and bleeding.

"We should go," Jeongguk insists. Ignoring the display of love beside you, he shoves the stranger out of his way and helps you stand.

Jeongguk keeps an arm around your back and you just barely hear him whisper, "Lean on me."

Compelled by something beyond your control, you do.

You hobble out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk together, pausing as your adrenaline ebbs in the open space.

"Um," you fumble, trying to retrieve your phone from your purse despite being held up almost entirely by Jeongguk. It doesn't help that he smells like fabric softener and boy and it's making you lose concentration. "I just need to call a car."

"What?" Jeongguk shakes his head, "No." Using his arm at your back, he steers you down the sidewalk and away from the cafe. "My place is literally right here."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," you shake your head, but your body doesn't get the memo. One of your hands is twisted into the fabric of his cotton shirt, turning you so that you're almost hugging him as he helps you walk. Your mind won't listen to reason, you find yourself helpless in the face of your desire to stay in his arms.

"Please," he smiles warmly at you, "It's the least I can do." His nose scrunches up and his eyes crease, his front two teeth peeking out in an honest smile.

And now you know: you really are a goner.

Jeongguk lives in a cramped studio apartment. It smells like air freshener and fabric softener and...weed? Kind of. You're frozen in the doorway, leaning against his dresser to keep upright while he frantically clears the floor of his bags and schoolwork and art supplies.

The walls are covered in band posters and artwork (some of which you see is signed with a flourish of JK so you know it's his). There's a magnificent view of the mountains from out his window, mid-morning light pouring in and making the room stuffy. You let your eyes just barely skirt over his bed (which has a navy blue comforter and has been made), and move to look at this desk. There's a massive gaming computer, complete with a light-up keyboard, and different kinds of sound and editing equipment.

"Sorry," he says, grunting as he wrenches up the window, a brush of cold air coming in. "Wasn't expecting visitors." He's facing you, but his eyes are still skirting over his room.

"It's fine," you smile.

There's a long moment when Jeongguk finally looks at you, only mildly satisfied that there's nothing too embarrassing left out, and he just can't believe what he's seeing. You're his soulmate. You're in his room.

It's nighttime. You're standing in a dress that hugs your curves and hovering in the doorway. Your expression is nervous but hopeful as you step out of your heels. He's across the room, standing by the bed, his hands itching with the desire to touch you. "You sure?" he says, and his voice is soft and almost lost amongst the city sounds outside his window. You nod, stepping towards him.

Jeongguk comes back to the present, flushed and a little bit horny. Holy shit, he thinks.

"Flashback?" You wonder.

"Yeah," Jeongguk says, hiding his face in case it's too clear what he's thinking. He catches sight of your leg and jumps in the air, "Oh! Sit down!" He crosses the room and guides you to the expensive, high-backed desk chair, spinning around and darting into the bathroom.

You peek at the polaroids stuck to the edge of his computer screen. You recognize Taehyung and his soulmate Jimin, but everyone else are strangers. The one that catches your eye is of Jeongguk with six others (Jimin and Tae among them), they're standing in a line with Jeongguk in the middle holding a cake. Jeongguk looks younger, rounder cheeks and wider eyes. Scrawled beneath it is written Happy 16th, Kookie!!! -Hyungs

It makes you feel...warm and fluttery.

"Found it," Jeongguk chuckles, reappearing with the first aid kit and a towel. He kneels at your feet and the action feels familiar, like one of your dreams.

"What's it like?" You ask softly.

"Hmm?" Jeongguk says, intensely focused as he wipes the coffee from your ankle and starts disinfecting the cuts.

"The flashbacks."

"Oh," he says, pausing with a cotton swab above your skin. He shrugs and leans in closer as he starts again, "Just like memories. But I'm not expecting them," he chuckles. "Kind of like hiccups? Or sneezing?"

"Do they feel...real?"

Jeongguk leans back and watches your expression. He's surprised to find how scared you look, apprehensive. He can feel a flashback coming in his chest from this angle, but he's determined to answer.

"Kind of. It's like...watching a movie. I know that it's me, and you," he whispers, "and I empathize with them. But it doesn't feel like I'm living it." He looks away from you, the flashback he had sensed fading, and digs through the first aid kit for bandages. "It's like...the universe is giving me proof that it's meant to be. That we've done this before. That we will do it again. That this…" he pauses, wondering if he should say what he really thinks, finding that he can't say anything but the truth when he sees the vulnerability in your expression, "is a love that's meant to last lifetimes."

He pulls a bandage roll from the kit and his face scrunches up into that bunny smile from earlier, "Sorry, I know that was corny," he laughs, "also because this is all I have." He begins to wrap the gauze around your ankle, muttering that he really only has this stuff because of rolling his ankles and wrists during dance practice. But it sort of fades out as you identify the feeling that's formed in your chest...hope.

You avert your eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you and this light happy feeling crowding your chest. Your skin flushes but not in the hot flash way you've been experiencing all week, more pleasantly than that.

"Um," you stutter because you can't be alone with your thoughts anymore, "Who are all these people?" You wince at your own awkward attempt at conversation but Jeongguk laughs jovially.

He bounces up from his knees and squints at the birthday Polaroid you're motioning to. "Oh," he grins, his face doing that adorable bunny smile again, "My hyungs!" He peels the Polaroid off the edge of the monitor and hands it to you. His finger points to each person in turn as he says, "Jimin and Tae, you know them, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hobi."

Your eyes follow his finger and then move to his face. He's lit up talking about them.

Your thumb moves over the center of the photograph where young Jeongguk stands, looking almost identical as right now. Completely overjoyed.

"How did you meet?" You whisper, feeling his proximity.

Jeongguk moves to sit on the bed and shrugs, "We all lived pretty close together, in the same neighborhood. I've always gone to the same school as Jimin and Tae, they're one year ahead of me. Namjoon and Hobi were seniors when I was…" he thinks, screwing his face in concentration, "a freshman? I think." He shrugs, "I don't really remember how it began, we've been friends forever."

"Wow," you say, looking down at the photograph again.

"Yeah. Namjoon-hyung is like the smartest person I've ever met, he speaks four languages and is working on a doctorate already. And Seokjin-hyung is so funny and he's helping me learn how to cook! He's gonna open his own restaurant one day, I think. And Yoongi-hyung's a composer! He even traveled with a national quartet once, as a pianist, but says he likes hip hop and rap more so now he's a producer. Hobi-hyung is the one who started teaching me how to dance, he says I'm pretty good, but I don't know… He's the captain of our dance team and is amazing! Jimin-hyung was the student body president of our middle and high school, and one of the top-scoring students in math, and a really amazing modern dancer. He almost joined a ballet company, but he said his body probably wouldn't be able to handle it so now he just does hip hop dance with me. I think he should be a choreographer or something but he's double majoring in math? I don't get it. And Taehyung is amazing! He's a theater major and he's starred in every school play that he's auditioned for, and he's the one who convinced me to start taking art classes. But I think I like film better, I'm not really sure, I—" Jeongguk stops abruptly when he sees your face, frozen in surprise. His cheeks turn pink and he says, "Sorry."

"No," you shake your head, "don't be sorry. They're your family. It's good to be so proud of them."

"Yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. I can't believe I just ranted about my six hyungs to my soulmate, he thinks, what a fucking nerd! God just be cool for once Jeon, just once!

He looks back over to you when your phone dings loudly. You reach into your pocket and pull it out, Jeongguk smiling at the corgi butt design decorating the case.

"Oh," you put the phone to your ear, "Hello? Joy?"

You turn away from him and he stands up quickly, wandering away under the impression of putting up the first aid kit to give you privacy. He hears you mumbling into the speaker, catches small snippets of your conversation.

"I think it is going well, actually—""

"No! Joy! Oh my god." He peeks out to see you blushing fuschia.

You talk for another minute before he hears, "Yeah, okay, maybe in an hour? I have to change first. Yeah, yeah, what would you do without me?" You laugh and hang up, Jeongguk reappearing from the bathroom. "Sorry," you say bashfully.

Jeongguk holds up his hands, "It's fine. Everything okay?"

You nod, chuckling to yourself, "My friend put off this project to the last minute and she needs my help. I need to go."

"Okay," Jeongguk nods, trying to hide how disappointed he is. He wonders if all soulmates feel this way when their other half leaves them, even if only temporarily. "I can give you a lift. If you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he grins, scooping his car keys from the top of his dresser and helping you stand.

You like this car. The washed purple color, the faded black seats. It smells like the sun and a bit of cologne. There's a stuffed D.va plush hanging from his rearview mirror that makes you laugh. As soon as he slid into the driver's seat he plugged his phone into the aux cord.

The car starts and "Circles" by Post Malone starts playing through the speakers.

"Oh, I love this song," you say, humming the lyrics under your breath.

Jeongguk looks at you like there's nothing else he will ever need. He realizes this is a bit extreme, but it feels accurate. "Me too," he grins, his nose scrunching up in a smile.

It takes you three days to text Jeongguk. Three days to decide that you want to and summon the courage. You feel nauseous when you send the text and unsure. And it takes nearly ten minutes of constant encouragement from Joy for you to hit send.

It takes three days for Jeongguk to get a text from you and it nearly drives his hyungs crazy. He jumps around their apartments muttering, "She said she would text me. She said that right?" His eyes dart frantically to whoever's in the room, "Right?"

"That's what you said," Yoongi responds lamely.

"So I shouldn't text her? I shouldn't? Like that would be a bad idea?"

Jimin laughs loudly and Taehyung chuckles under his breath. Seokjin steps forward and squeezes his shoulder, "Do not. Do not text her."

When his phone buzzes and he sees it's a message from you he nearly starts breakdancing in the middle of the room. Instead, he starts jumping up and down frantically, looking more like a bunny now than he ever has before.

"And?" Namjoon wonders, "What did she say?"

Jeongguk glances down, beaming, "Hi."

His hyungs roll their eyes.

You: Hi

You: Sorry I know it's been a few days…

Jeongguk can't stop himself from replying. He doesn't care about remaining aloof or mysterious. All he knows is that he's been dying to talk to you and now that he has the chance he won't let anything stop him.

JK: No it's fine! No worries!

JK: How are you?

You: good...busy

JK: oh yeah me too

Jimin snorts, reading over his shoulder, "As if you haven't been staring at your phone for three days waiting for her to text you."

"That counts as busy!" Jeongguk pouts, eyes straying back to his screen when he sees the text bubble floating beneath his last message. He hears Jimin say something else but he tunes it out.

You: I was thinking we could hang out again?

You: If you have time

You: If you're too busy, just forget I said anything

JK: YES

JK: Was that too eager?

JK: I don't care, let's hang out

You giggle down at your phone, warmth spreading to your cheeks and crowding your rib cage. Joy peeks over your shoulder curiously, "So who is this guy anyway? I was surprised when you said you had a date." She squints down at your screen, shoving you playfully, "And you like him!"

Your blush turns crimson and you can't force yourself to meet her eyes. She wraps her hands around your arm and shakes you vigorously, "I want all of the information right now!!!" She pauses, a thought occurring to her, and stops shaking you, "But...does he have a soulmate?"

You can tell she's afraid to ask the question. You've known Joy for almost five years now, and she's known about your lack of a soulmate bond for almost the entire time. She knows how uncomfortable it makes you and how depressed you get about it sometimes. She doesn't really want to ask because she doesn't want to ruin whatever happiness you've found. But it does need to be asked.

"That's the thing," you chew on your bottom lip. You're hyperaware that you've never said it aloud before but that you are about to now. "I'm his soulmate."

"Dinner, dinner, dinner," Jeongguk chants, standing in front of his closet with a serious expression. Behind him, Jimin is on his bed reading a magazine and Taehyung is spinning around in the computer chair. "Dinner," he says again, squinting.

"Just wear that yellow button-up and jeans," Jimin says absently.

"Yellow?" Jeongguk crinkles his nose in distaste. He only owns that shirt because Seokjin-hyung bought it for him. The rest of his closet is a spectrum of black and white. In fact, the only colorful items he owns are gifts from others.

"Don't get too goth on her just yet," Jimin chuckles.

Jeongguk pulls the shirt out with a sigh, holding it up to himself in the mirror and twisting his mouth in confusion. He hangs it on his closet door, turning back to his closet with the same frustrated expression.

"It's so weird," Taehyung says.

"What do you mean?" Jeongguk's eyes grow wide with concern.

"Just that...well for Jimin and I, after our soulmate bond manifested and we connected that was kind of...it, y'know? We didn't have to, like, do this whole courting thing." He shrugs.

"Yeah," Jeongguk sighs, "It's hard because I can see our whole history together and it's us but not us? I don't know how to explain it."

It's a nice night, a soft breeze and a clear sky. You have your arms wrapped around yourself as you wait in front of the restaurant, and your heart nearly stops when you see him. He looks like a god. He looks so good. Tight jeans and a perfect muted yellow shirt. His hair looks soft and smooth and it falls into his eyes. And he's smiling, his nose scrunches up happily. He's only walking at first but he starts jogging when he sees you.

When he stops in front of you, you know you should say something but can't find the words. There's a feeling in your chest. Disbelief. That he's here, that this perfect person is in your life, is forever intertwined with yours. You have the urge to run your fingers through his hair and you have a distinct feeling that it's something you've done before.

Instead, you let out a shaky breath and avert your gaze.

"I've never tried this restaurant," he says, tilting his head back to read the sign.

You're too aware of how close he is. Of how good he smells. Of the heat coming off his skin. You want to wrap your arms around him and hold him close to you, bury your face in his chest.

"I really like it," you say, turning away from him because you're afraid of what you might do otherwise.

The restaurant is small because you hate large restaurants that cram people inside. There's soft classical music playing from speakers and warm lighting. But what you like most is the metal archway over the entrance that has pure white jasmine strung through it. You walk through and instantly feel at ease from the smell.

"Oh, hello miss," the greeter says from behind your podium, recognizing you instantly.

You blush and smile at her, a bit embarrassed that he now knows how frequently you come here.

The hostess glances behind you and you see her eyes sparkle at the sight of him. You wonder if that's what you look like when you see him too. When she looks back at you she gives you a conspiratorial thumbs up, whispers, "You didn't tell me your soulmate was so hot!"

Your flush goes darker. Soulmate. She said it so casually. But you suppose it's true. He's your...soulmate. The word feels right.

"Table for two?" She smiles, "I think I have your favorite one open."

"Yes, thank you."

Jeongguk focuses back on you and grins cheekily, "How often do you come here?"

You avoid his eyes, "Couple times a week. I like to...study here."

You sit at a table on the open patio. String lights curl around the wooden awning and the metal fence. Tall potted plants are perched in the open spaces. On the table is a flickering yellow candle and a lavender bouquet.

The hostess gives you both menus before taking your drink orders. You ignore the menu, while Jeongguk opens his and starts perusing.

He's so focused that you let yourself watch him. He's so beautiful; dewy, glowing skin, plush, pink lips, wide, brown eyes. It all feels so familiar. Dinner in soft lighting, sitting across from each other.

Your cheeks heat up thinking about it.

Jeongguk is surprised that, despite how nervous he feels, the night is going so well. You both order wine and pasta and just...talk. There's a familiarity that pervades through the night that he keeps from thinking about; if he thinks about it he knows he'll just freak himself out. He tries to keep his hands busy to stop himself from reaching over and intertwining your fingers with his.

"I like your tattoos," you say softly. Your plates have been cleared and Jeongguk seriously considers ordering a second serving of dessert to prolong the date.

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows and looks down at this hand. He often forgets they're there. "Oh," he says, flexing his hand, "Thanks."

"What do they mean?" you cock your head to the side.

"Oh, the initials are for my hyungs," he blushes, "And the rest just...seemed like a good idea." He runs his hand through his hair nervously.

You grin and boldly reach across the table, your fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling the appendage closer to the light. Your fingers trace softly over the inked pieces of his skin. You giggle at the smiley face on his finger, trace the heart on the back of his hand, tap each of the initials on his knuckles.

Jeongguk sucks in a breath as your fingers move up his forearm. You spend a long time on the flower decorating his arm, until Jeongguk finally says, "It's my, um, birth flower."

"Tiger flower," you whisper.

"Uh," he watches you with wide, doe eyes that reflect the flickering candle, "Yeah."

You meet his eyes, realizing suddenly how intimate this has become and pull back. Jeongguk coughs loudly, awkwardly, afraid he's having a heart attack from how fast his heart is beating.

"Is, uh, is yours on your forehead?"

"What?" you ask, wide-eyed.

Jeongguk sits up straighter and pulls his mop of dark hair from his face. There's a heart, just a shade or two pinker than his natural skin tone, peeking out from his hairline. A soulmate mark.

"I...don't know." You do the same as him, revealing your forehead and hairline.

Jeongguk's face transforms into a smile, his eyes light up happily. He presses two fingers to a spot just beneath your hairline, "Right. There," he says softly. He looks down at the table, his cheeks turning pink, "Meant to be," he whispers.

You let your hair fall back over your face, blushing.

The date goes well. The next three dates go well. A month passes and Jeongguk sees your progress. It's slow. You keep your distance. The fevers, dreams, flashbacks...they all continue. Subdued but still there.

You feel guilty. You know the solution. You're not sure if Jeongguk does, but either way, you're glad he hasn't forced you into anything physical. It's such a major shift in your worldview...you have a soulmate. You still have to remind yourself when you wake up in the morning.

"I'm not alone." You whisper it to your empty room. Your fingers find their way to your forehead to touch the heart that's now printed there. You stalk JK's social media and text constantly.

But every time you're with him (which is...as often as possible), something stops you. Fear, probably. You're afraid of making it real, of cementing everything.

Jeongguk's happy. Frustrated but happy. He can tell you're afraid, he senses your hesitation. He's glad, too, that things are moving slowly because he doesn't know what he's doing. He was popular in grade school, but soulmate bonds manifest during puberty. Once someone gets their soulmate mark...they pretty much refuse to make out with anyone else. He has little experience, but he doesn't care with you.

Anytime he's within six feet of you, his fingers start to twitch and his heartbeat quickens and he just...he just wants to wrap his arms around you and squeeze, he wants to kiss every inch of your skin, run his hands through your hair.

So he's frustrated. Because of the lack of physical intimacy, yes, but also because he doesn't know what you're afraid of. Or how to help.

And the flashbacks aren't helping. They feel like taunts. Like someone showing him something that could be his if only he'd do the right thing, say the right thing. It's infuriating.

"I think you should talk to her about it," Namjoon says flatly when he broaches the subject with his hyungs.

"Yeah, Kookie," Hobi says, looking up from the game of cards he and Yoongi are playing, "Can't resolve anything if you won't talk about it first."

Jeongguk huffs and throws himself against the couch, whiny.

It takes a week for him to build up the courage to bring it up. Date night.

You made sure to pick a movie for tonight that you'd seen before. You had made the preemptive decision to hold his hand. You did feel...slightly stupid for having to make a preemptive plan for something as innocent as hand-holding. But you figured that was the only way you were going to get yourself to do it.

So you waited until after dinner, halfway through the movie, the sun has set. You're sitting a few inches from him on the couch in the low lit room. You make a bit of a show of yawning and lean over.

His shoulders are broad and round and comfortable. Your cheek rests easily against him and you find a sense of security wrapping around you like a blanket from the proximity.

His hand is resting, palm up, on his thigh and you tentatively link your fingers through his.

You love his hands. Long fingers, soft palms, dark tattoos. It's warm and comforting, and they fit together perfectly.

Jeongguk doesn't need to bring it up, he realizes. This is progress. You're both trying. He squeezes your hand, leans his cheek against the top of your head. You fall asleep on his shoulder.

But it's getting worse. The dreams are so intense you can barely sleep. You keep waking up every few hours, remind yourself that he's real, talking yourself out of the anxiety. And his flashbacks are intense. Debilitating. He had one during dance practice and it ended up with him on the floor. The fevers are so intense sometimes that neither of you can move.

"Shit," he whispers one day, walking with your hands through the door of his apartment. You look over and find that he's drenched with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. He pales and his knees go weak.

"Woah, oh my god," you gasp, trying to hold onto him enough to ease him to the ground. "You're burning up," you whisper, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

Jeongguk shakes his head almost, "S'fine."

His eyes blink rapidly and refuse to focus, "Are you having a flashback?"

He shakes his head and you can tell he's trying to stay present but he's struggling. His skin is so hot and he's sweating so much...you think he might pass out.

You screw your face up. You know what you have to do.

You take his chin between your fingers and lift it up, leaning in and pausing, whispering sincerely, "I'm so sorry I put this off for so long." You close the distance between you both, your lips brushing softly, tentatively against his at first.

Jeongguk eyes open wide, his mind suddenly reeling back into the present. Your lips are pliant against his and he finds himself responding without thinking. He surges upward, his tongue slipping between your lips and into your mouth. His hand threads into your hair and presses your head closer.

Your hands grip tightly at his shoulders, your mouth opening in a gasp as he's suddenly so responsive. You feel his fever break beneath you, your lips moving of their own accord.

And then suddenly, it hits you. All your lifetimes. Every memory, every moment. And it's all...Jeongguk. You understand now, what he meant about the flashbacks, about how they're you but not you.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his. You're both breathing heavily, grinning like fools. You close your eyes and just smile, "I remember everything," you whisper.

"Me too," he whispers, and he peppers kisses across your nose and cheeks, "It's been so long. So many lifetimes." He pulls your hair away from your face and presses his lips softly to the heart-shaped mark on your forehead.

"I can't believe we found each other," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him into your chest, "Again."

"Always," he says, curling into your embrace so that his face hides in the dip of your neck, "Always. We'll always find each other."

"Always," you affirm. You kiss the mark on his forehead and say it again, "Always."

author’s note—i really really really love this; i'm so proud of it omg

m.list :: wips :: ao3

#bts #bangtanbuds #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jk #jk x reader #fluff #soulmate au

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emile-hides · 5 years ago

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Thirteen Years

The final part of my Overwatch Found Family Fanfiction with my gaming squad; @nuetella-twin @r1pwitch @bopin-lucio-beets @x-crosslate and @syalin-deerfox

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

In which we reflect on the years passing.

My name is Emile, I’m technically what a normal human would call a mechanic, I like to consider myself a Doctor who specializes in Omnic care. I work for the Shimbali, and while my job use to include travailing to provide aid to Omnics all over the world, more recently it’s been contained to the Nepal sanctuary, and surrounding villages.

If you’d asked me thirteen years ago what I’d planned to be doing in the future, it probably wouldn’t have been the life I live now. So why the sudden change in life style?

Well... My children, of course!

The oldest is Marianne (15), previously known as Jojo. A bright blond young girl with out of control curly hair, pale blue eyes, and freckles. She’s currently studying Omnic care under my wing, and is a rather quick learner.

Then there’s Moss (13), their a rather pale looking goth type, with medium length black hair, two different colored eyes, and a racoon tail and ears. We’re not really sure where those came from. They enjoy baking, music, and anime of course.

And finally, there’s Milo (13), previously Ari. I’ve had Milo the longest, sense before they can even remember, and while every day the come up with a new name and new pronouns to use, they continue to be the same perfect and wonderful child I’ve raised.

It’s rather easy to tell by simply looking at the three of them that they’re all adopted, though not though usual means. And while the way I ended up raising these three is a little out there, I’ll always be grateful to whatever God blessed me with these angles.

And here, right now, with my three kids, my roommate and friend, Cross, Zenyatta, and Genji, we were having a real family dinner.

Granted, we didn’t have a dinning table. Our kitchen was far too small, and we didn’t have a dinning room. But sitting around the coffee table on nice little pillows was just as good.

Tonight, we were celebrating, thought the guest of honor hadn’t arrived.

A few days ago, my best friend Zayne, a fierce bounty hunter, had called me to update me on his life. He’d finally taken down his “true rival”, some archer he’d been tasked to capture, and as the trope goes, they were now together. Rather sweet, yes?

However, that of course came at a cost of, well, the man who hired Zayne now coming after both of them. So, we offered them a safe place in Nepal.

So, here we all sat, awaiting Zayne and this mystery man’s arrival.

Zenyatta and Moss were currently in the kitchen, putting finishing touches on dinner. Milo, Marianne, Cross, and Genji were playing Smash Bros. I was, like an anxious mess, pacing around by the front door waiting for word from Zayne.

“DAD!!” Milo’s call from the living room pulled my attention from worry, “GENJI’S CHEATING!!!” He whined.

Genji chuckled and stretched as his character taunted alone on the battle screen, “It’s not cheating.”

“META KNIGHT IS SO CHEATING!!!” Milo huffed, lightly hitting at Genji’s arm. The ninja just continued to chuckle.

I watched Genji and Milo rough house for another moment, as Marianne and Cross scooted a bit away, and continued playing. It gave me a sense of calm. Enough to let out a sigh and check on the kitchen a bit more relaxed.

“How’s dinner coming?” I asked with a smile.

“Great!” Zenyatta piped with more excitement than I was expecting. He then held out a bowl of ramen that looked like something straight out of an anime. “We chose to make Ramen, as Zayne’s mystery friend is Japanese. Moss is such a wonderful teacher!” He beamed.

I glanced past him to Moss, who was currently mixing what I assumed to be cake batter, so focused on their cooking they hadn’t even noticed I’d entered. I smiled, feeling even more at ease.

“Great. Thankyou so much for cooking, by the way.” I gave a slight nod of thanks, as I am absolutely useless in the kitchen.

“My pleasure.” Zenyatta whirred, setting down the bowl of ramen with equally beautiful looking bowls.

A sharp knock pulled my attention from the adorable monk, “Oh!” I hopped a bit excitedly to turn around.

Zenyatta hummed, gathering the meal to set up in the living room, “Seems our guests have arrived~”

I nodded excitedly and quickly made my way to the front door. I grabbed the knob, bracing internally for whoever may be on the other side, and swung the door open.

There stood Zayne, fading green undercut a little longer than it was before. Beside him a greying man with a pointed beard, an undercut pulled into a ponytail, and an eyebrow piercing. He looked stern, almost angry, and he didn’t look directly at me.

I was too excited to really care about him though.

“Zayne!!” I cheered, scooping the shorter man into a quick hug before quickly pulling them both inside, “Welcome back! Come in, sit down!”

Zayne laughed and pulled his friend along into my home, “Geez, calm down, it’s only been like a year and a half sense I was last here.”

“Too long. Much too long.” I huffed jokingly. As we entered the living room I turned to address the gamers on my floor, “Alright you four, time to eat, games off.”

Milo whined, Genji turned the system off, Marianne shifted to sit at the table, and Zenyatta finished placing the bowls of ramen along with a warm pot of tea and cups.

“And who’s that?” Cross again asked the importaint questions, as they pulled Milo to the table.

Zayne blinked, “Oh, right, this is-” he started to introduce.

“HANZO?!” Genji’s eyes went wide as jumped up.

“g-GENJI???” The stranger returned, flinching back behind Zayne.

“Marianne! ...What’s going on?” My daughter pipped in.

#Emile's Arts #This... this is nothing #This is nothing but I wanted an age up so here we are #We all enjoy a family meal #YES I DID SCREW UP MARIANNE'S AGE NO I'M NOT GOING TO FIX IT #This is where we are #If I think up a better aged-up plot bit I'll write a different aged-up plot bit #For now this is what my brain has #I'm going to eventually do a side-plot with Zayne and Hanzo but that's specifically for Zayne because he's asked for it #And I'm a sucker for rivals to lovers trope so #That's what I'm gonna do now #I love my kids part FOUR #With friends #I love my kids they give me a sense of calm #While I stress over whatever the HECK Zayne is up to #My kids are great.#And this fic is not as good as the others #but whaaaaaaaatever #I'm sure I'll come up with something better eventually #Enjoy!!!

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docholligay · 5 years ago

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Furi gave me a list of prompts and I thought I’d do a few, allowing ONLY 20 minutes for each of them and seeing where I got.

“Didn’t we establish that this wasn’t your fault and that there was nothing else you could have done?”--Tracer to Pharah

Sometimes Fareeha Amari simply forgot Tracer was dead.

You would think this would be difficult to do, and even Pharah scolded herself. They had been captured together, and tortured alongside each other, and spirited into the hospital together. She had witnessed the entirety of Tracer’s day to day decline, like watching a piece of fruit rot. She had helped care for her, she had helped with the cremation and the funeral and yet, even still there were days that she simply forgot Tracer was dead, and found it very jarring to be reminded.

She was so lucky to have survived Moira’s ministrations, was all the young lady had said, a fresh journalist excited to be doing a report on the center Overwatch had opened in Tracer’s memory. D.va had opened it, really, or her money had, but she did not want the credit to the point of threatening the few who knew with their internet reputations. So it was Overwatch’s gesture to the East End, more in keeping with what she would have wanted than any statue.

She was so lucky.

No one ever meant anything by it, except to express happiness or good fortune or other very pleasant things, Pharah supposed, but all she could ever think of was the implication that Tracer had somehow been unlucky. Tracer was not an unlucky person. She herself would have said she was blessedly lucky, and that Tracer had killed Moira before Moira realized she’d undone Tracer entirely was proof positive, so she said.

Tracer was not unlucky.

It was simply that Pharah hadn’t done enough to protect her.

Pharah had not been quick enough of tongue, or of body, and Tracer had been so good at antagonizing Moira. It might have been a last game of skill, between her and Tracer, to see who could give more for the cause, and now Pharah’s shoulder was often painful, and Tracer was dead. She had won, in the end. She should have done more. She should have tried harder.

She glanced over to the desk at the other end of the room, still in the old office though the shiny new building rested in a posh area of town.

“I’m sorry.” she told the empty chair. “You were my friend. I should have done more.”

“Could ‘ave sworn we’d established this wasn’t your fault, and there was nothing else you might ‘ave done? I mean, fuck’s sake” Tracer appeared at the corner of Pharah desk, sitting cross-legged on her reports, “Moira DID want me dead for longer than you’ve even known me.”

This was the other reason it was sometimes hard to remember Tracer was dead. After her death, Pharah had begun to experience hallucinations. The first time, dressing Tracer’s body so her family didn’t have to, Pharah had chalked it up to an unusual amount of stress.

Five months after Tracer had taken her last breath, it was harder to call Pharah’s break from reality a temporary situation.

“You wasn’t exactly on ‘oliday at the Ritz, love.”

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demonboidies · 6 years ago

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𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝔂 - 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼

pt.7

word count: 2,545

taglist: @iwannabeanidol @taezeus @jooniescupcakes @aesthetically-messed-up @okepoke @weirdo-in-the-closet @aysha489 @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sessi03 (comment under this post that you want to be added to the taglist; commenting anywhere else will not be counted for)

jungkook was really cute, in general. he captured hearts of many people, unintentionally, of course. it was an obvious fact and everyone knew it. except, all of the atoms in jin, hoseok, namjoon, and yoongi's body wouldve disagreed at this moment.

he was a whining, stomping, stubborn mess right now. tears were streaming down his face as he stomped about in his room, definitely making a big mess. the covers were thrown onto the floor as he kicked the small rug on his floor.

"hey, bun-bun, please stop! do you want noona to see this big mess?" namjoon tried persuading the boy, who stopped momentarily. he shook his head no and namjoon nodded, "exactly. if i tell noona that you made this mess, do you think she'll be happy? who knows she might just leave us if she sees this."

at the prospect of you leaving, his eyes teared up even more. he collapsed onto the ground, grabbing a pillow he had previously thrown onto the ground to cry into.

"no!~~"

the wail made all 4 of the guys cringe. finally, yoongi stepped forward running a hand through jungkook's hair.

"hey, bunny, why don't you get into bed and wait there for y/n to come back?"

jungkook shook his head.

"why not buddy?"

"i-i wanna see her when she comes inside, jungkookie doesn't want to wait any longer."

yoongi nodded thoughtfully, helping his fellow friend up, "we can wait downstairs, let's go."

his hand clasped tightly around jungkook's, letting the little sit on the couch which was positioned right in front of the door. yoongi made sure jungkook was preoccupied, turning to namjoon.

"get him his banana milk."

in a few seconds, the carton of milk was in jungkook's hand as he clutched a pink bunny plush in his other, staring at the door with determination. it was as if he was a runner, you opening the door would be the equivalent to the start of the race, and jungkook would have to run as fast as possible to you - the finish line.

jin sighed dramatically, feeling the weight off of his shoulders as he rolled his chair into the kitchen. hoseok and yoongi followed, letting namjoon stay preoccupied with jungkook.

"gosh, i knew he was reliant on her, but this is the worst episode ever." jin said taking a large gulp of water, he was trying to trick himself by thinking it was vodka. he indeed needed a drink, but right now wasn't an appropriate time.

"you know he has like over," hoseok paused thinking of a reasonable number, "200 photos on his phone, only imagine how many he has on his laptop, tablet, and probably has some on his fucking smart watch. knowing him he probably programmed it differently, just for that."

yoongi chuckled dryly, silently pitying jungkook. "he's so dependent, it's scary." he shook his head as if he was disappointed in jungkook.

hoseok and jin looked at each other, then at yoongi and broke out in laughter.

"coming from the guys who used her as your 'muse'." jin exclaimed, hoseok nodding and laughing along with him.

yoongi's face lit up a light pink, "oh whatever, at least i dont lie to her." his clap back made jin roll his eyes.

"we all agreed to this so don't go on bringing up that. that's just you trying to be a hero." jin's snarky comment made yoongi shut up immediately, although the glare he had directed to jin was clear on how he didn't like his snide comment.

"jungkook is just young, that's why. assured, we all acted that way when we were his age."

"pft, at his age i was kil-"

"noona!!~"

the excited squeal cut off jin who sighed heavily once again. wordlessly, they all walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. they saw jungkook holding you close by your waist, resting his head on your shoulder, even if you were noticeably shorter than him.

"hey jungkook." you patted his shoulder in greeting, your other hand being occupied by taehyung's hand. jimin watched the two youngest get most of the attention so he stomped into the kitchen. he grabbed one of your favorite drinks, bringing it out to you in a glass cup.

"here noona, drink this. you must be exhausted." you thanked jimin with a smile, pulling away from jungkook. you took a sip from the drink, looking at all of the expecting males. were they just waiting for you to come home? their eyes were wide, a smile on their lips...resembling puppies almost.

their eager eyes suddenly tore away from you, noticing your questioning eyes. "so..."

"noona let's play games upstairs!"

"y/n wanna check out my studio? i was working on some new tracks, if you're curious to hear some."

"noona, i never got around to showing you my dance performances right?"

you blinked slowly, staring at the individuals who were looking at you expectingly. the grip around your arm and you looked down to see jungkook looking at you with his bright, big doe eyes and lips formed into a pout.

"noona~ please?"

your breath hitched, the sight making your heart stop. the same time, your hand was being pulled in the direction of taehyung. you looked at the younger male.

"noona, you haven't spent much time with me. jungkook can wait, can't he?" taehyung's tone dropped and you could see in your peripheral vision jungkook moving towards his hyung.

"what? what are you getting at, taehyung?"

the other boy's eyebrows raised, shocked at the sudden informal tone jungkook had.

"i'm sayin-"

BZZT. BZZT. BZZT.

there was a vibration coming from your right pocket. so you took ahold of your ringing device, after un-twining your hand out of taehyung's (with his reluctance, of course), and swiped to answer it. you tried turning your body to the side for some privacy, but jungkook's hold didn't loosen a bit.

so you let out a sigh, saying a greeting to whomever was on the other end.

"good afternoon, ms. y/n."

"uhm, hello. who am i speaking to?"

the boys tried acting like they weren't listening in, except for jungkook who was watching you like a hawk. they were either on their phone, playing games, or just looking out the window.

"this is mr. kim, the secretary of mr. park hyung-sik's company, EyeCandy."

the name was familiar, it was one of the biggest companies regarding technology in South Korea. it was a job you had applied to maybe more than 2 months ago. it was a longshot dream you had. they handled many out of the country project and you simply wanted to become one of their translators. it was stupid of you to think you even had a chance. and it was obvious after the ceo had gotten up on a stage in america and by his side was a girl speaking into a microphone.

"ah," you said, not knowing what to think of it, "and why are you calling? sorry for the rudeness, but i can't wrap my head around it...i mean, i applied months ago."

jin's eyebrow raised in question, definitely paying attention now. applied? as in for a job?

"actually, i'm glad to be the bearer of good news, so we would like to say we have accepted you as mr. park's own personal translator."

you blinked once. twice. and thrice, or the third time.

"i'm sorry but, what?"

"come around at 8 am sharp tomorrow if you're interested."

and the line went dead.

"let's go!" jungkook said tugging your arm to go upstairs. but you wouldn't budge. jungkook began whining slightly, but stopped when you looked concerned with something. it seemed safe for him to assume it was regarding whoever you were on the phone with.

"oh! i remember, hobi," you said looking at the surprised male in question, "your studio. it should be opening in 20 minutes, you asked for me to remind you earlier this morning."

the boys looked at hoseok suspiciously, but he only smiled gratefully. "oh thank you! i really forgot!"

he glanced at the boys, who were staring at him with high suspicion, but he gave no second thought to them, rushing upstairs.

"you know, noona," taehyung looked at you, softness in his eyes and smile, "you can call me tae or taetae if you want."

you smiled at his cute nickname, opening your mouth to respond, but jungkook cut you off.

"goo! kookie! jungkookie! you can call me those names! even bun-bun!"

'really? i would think annoying brat would be more fitting," yoongi thought bitterly, not loving the fact he was still attached to your arm - and the fact you seemed okay with it.

"well, if we're getting familiar with nicknames," yoongi said with a calm voice, "i give you permission to call me yoongs." he already made clear on the first day he wouldn't mind if you called him oppa or yoongs, but he thought restating it would've encouraged you to call him that more often. "oppa is fine too."

jin glared at him for taking the oppa title. "actually, you could call me oppa too, and if you want jinie. seeing as i am the oldest, that title should be reserved for me too." jin threw a glare at yoongi who only rolled his eyes.

you chuckle at the seemingly playful banter, not knowing how competitive they were actually being.

"joonie is cool with me." namjon said casually, walking closer to you. "and actually could i speak to you alone for a moment."

the mention of being alone with namjoon made junkook tighten his grip around you.

"no! noona is going upstairs with me," he declared for what felt like the thousandth time today,

"goo, i swear only 5 minutes. and you can take her upstairs to play overwatch or whatever."

the youngest showed to sign of letting up, until yoongi sighed and walked up to him. "goo, let's go. namjoon needs to talk about someting serious-"

"i am serious!" jungkook said puffing his chest out.

yoongi gritted his teeth, grabbing jungkook by the back of his neck and making him lean down a bit, so he cuold speak very clearly right into his ear.

"jeon, you better stop fucking around and come with me, let namjoon and y/n talk alone - it's something very important. or i swear to god, i'm gonna...beat the shit out of y/n right now, take them away from you, and make sure you never see them again." yoongi's words held no meaning, zero at all, but it got the reaction he wanted. jungkook let go of you, grabbing yoongi by his collar and staring him right into his irises. yoongi could tell how jungkook had switched, snapped, and was angrier than he's ever seen.

"repeat that shit to my face right now." jungkook, rather jeon, was furious. this persona/alter of jungkook was more aggressive than any other alter that jungkook had (at least known by the boys). it was a very, very, very stern rule in the house to not trigger that part of him. it never really ended well, no matter who tried to calm him down. the only way jeon would leave would be if jungkook had gotten sleep or just past out for whatever reason.

"come on," namjoon said, grabbing your wrist to pull you aside. it would be best if you didn't see anything that was about to go down, "there's something important we need to discuss."

you reluctantly let him tug you in the direction of his office. he shut the door behind you, but you flinched when you heard something crash.

"alright, so what i wanted to talk about was regarding your living location..." his voice trailed off, fiddling with some papers in his drawers, "jin and i wanted to know if you would be staying with us or you would be residing back at your apartment?"

this discussion was really supposed to be saved for later, but hearing your phone call and seeing jungkook's unusually clingy attitude, it seemed to be a good time to bring this question upon you. after all, with everything that seems to be happening at this moment, you might even say yes due to the pressure.

you nodded slowly. the decision had to be made, and the pros and cons of your choices were clear. living with the boys would only make your job easier, however it would inconvenience the boys. living by yourself (as you had been living before) would let you not be in anyone's way, however, the commute to the hill would have to happen every day and it sounded tiresome just thinking about it.

"i mean there is no pressure, however, we - as in all 7 of us - want you to know that it would be no problem if you had decided to stay with us. don't think that you would be a burden, you're already helping us so much. it also seems fitting if you're going to be here every day, in the case of an emergency or something," his voice trailed off in the end, noticing how you were in deep thought. he saw the contemplation on your voice and he smirked a bit. he just needed to convince you a little bit...

"and i'm sorry to say this to you - i just need you to know. the youngest ones really do rely on you for a lot of stuff. we need you here on time to be driving them at their designated hours. also...to think about jungkook - he really needs you by his side as well as taehyung. i don't know if you've noticed, but you're one of their calming remedies."

well now you really couldn't say no. to know that you were actually needed, i mean, you knew you were needed but for the sake of the two youngest. being called their remedies. it was like namjoon was planning all of this out only for you to say yes, his wicked and smooth words were very persuading.

and persuaded you were. it was crazy. you had only met the 7 males a mere day ago, but being called one of their calming remedies. if you were needed for an emergency, it would be too late if you were to commute to the hill. so the only option was...

"i guess i should start packing my things up then," you said, almost hesitantly. "i really would hate to burden you guys, but, my job here might be a waste if i would have to commute every day." you smile softly at the pleased man in front of you.

that was step one done and accomplished. everything was going well.

//I called this one pros and cons bc obvs ar the end,,,,but like pros and cons of jungkook is basically why that's the title

bc see hes a cutie wootie patootie, but hes also an annoying lil bitch for his noona ❤🥰 [pros and cons]

[that was a joke lol pls dont take offence]

[^jk finding out his noona is paying more attention to his hyungs]

#yandere bts #yandere imagines #bts imagines #imagines #x reader #yandere x reader #bts x reader #yandere bts imagines #yandere bts ot7 #yandere ot7 #sickly ff #yandere sickly ff #sickly ot7 #bts ot7 imagines #ot7 imagines

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locatcm · 5 years ago

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You’ve sold your soul to the wrong type of people. discovered the wrong types of things; now you’ve escaped they’ll do anything to take you back.

Talon always looks like a good idea to a starving genius, the daughter of a scientist from Numbani but British born, Cynthia’s mother passed when she was relatively young, a teen genius, and her English father soon followed suit. Left with a sizeable estate but lost opportunities, she became affiliated with Talon in her early twenties, a nihilist armed with a lot of funding, an impressive intellect and a certain charisma, Cynth was close to an Irish operative who called themselves Badb. Until an incident where she grew a conscience (sort of), left her ‘partner’ for dead, taking their cybernetic glove with her and augmenting it for her own use, meaning her current method of attack is a gun and a glove that delivers a powerful forward blast.

As someone who knows a little too much, she’s now on the run from the organization she once felt she belonged in and will do anything to gain her freedom.

#OVERWATCH┊ ❛ to be captured would mean the end of the game. ❜#VERSES┊ ❛ man hands on misery to man. ❜

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starshinegoblin · 5 years ago

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The Games We Play

Featured AU: You’re My Muse AU - Jingyi is a personal assistant to Lan Wangji and Jin Ling is a Youtube Game Vlogger. Notes: This originally was supposed to be for the prompt "kiss of suggestion" and I think I totally missed the mark but here's what happened XD Also, Buttons aka Snowdrop is a munchkin and here is what she looks like! So cute! FYI, if your an Overwatch person. I'm sorry for butchering your game. My knowledge comes from peering occasionally over my roommates shoulder while she plays. @ruensroad - Here’s the spice and thanks for the help with choosing what type of kitty that Buttons aka Snowdrop is.

Jingyi groaned as he woke up. The feel of too warm feline toe beans walking up his bare back. He shivered, starting to wiggle attempting to dislodge his cat. When she wouldn’t stop. He rolled on his side dislodging her. Reaching out for Jin Ling, he found that he was alone in their bed. He blearily opened his eyes, blinking them to get the sleep out of his eyes. He noticed the soft grey light coming out from underneath the curtains that were still drawn.

Which meant that Jin Ling had wanted him to get some actual sleep. Working as a personal assistant for his older cousin, Lan Wangji is a lot of work. The last project was a little overwhelming too with them traveling there much. Thankfully, New York had been the last stop for a while. He’d come home from the United States last night jet lagged and starving. Jin Ling had been amazing last night. He was already there at the airport ready for him, bringing him home to a hot meal, and a bath before bed.

He let out a sigh rolling on his back so that he could stretch out lazily across the center of their bed. A smile sweeping across his face at how blessed he was. Buttons tried again to lay on him but he sat up tossing back the sheets. He untangled his legs getting up. His stomach growled making him chuckle. Jingyi checked the time seeing that it was a little after twelve.

“Come on let’s go see if A-Ling can be persuaded into taking us to lunch.” Jingyi said to Buttons as he put on the first clean shirt that he saw on the chaise at the foot of the bed. That earned him a soft trilling meow as a response, which of course meant she agreed. He picked her up, taking her with him. Clad in his boxers, Jin Ling’s T-shirt, and finger combed bed hair, he set out to find where his boyfriend was in their apartment.

It didn’t take him long to find out. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he was able to hear the sounds of Jin Ling’s game and him smack talking with his friends coming from the living room. Knowing that he didn’t have to be quiet. He continued on into the living room. He smiled fondly seeing Jin Ling sitting on the floor in front of their sectional couch. His long hair down wearing a blue tank that was Jingyi’s and a pair of heather grey sweats. He looked really good, reminding him how much he’d missed him this past week in New York.

Jingyi turned his head to check the wall. Their television actually being a projector. So the whole wall was nothing but the game in HD. It only took him a second to recognize the game. He was playing Overwatch. His team was winning and he bet it was because A-Qing was there being silent but deadly playing D.Va.

Jin Ling saw his boyfriend standing in the doorway holding Buttons out of the corner of his eye. He smiled quickly tapping his mute button on his headset.

“Hey, baby.” He called out to him letting him know that he knew he was there. A happy snort was the response he got.

“You tricked me.” Jingyi playfully scolded, as he padded over to him. Jin Ling didn’t need to look up to know the other was smiling. He could hear it in his voice.

“You needed the rest.” Jin Ling countered as Jingyi decided to set Buttons down on the floor. Buttons wandered over to sniff Jin Ling’s hands before going in search of her true love, Fairy. The rainy weather outside making it a perfect day for staying in and being cozy which is what Jin Ling has planned. No need to leave their home today.

“I probably would have slept more but someone had to get up.” Jingyi whined, his fingers itching to mess with Jin Ling’s hair. It looks so soft from being air dried. Something he’d found himself doing while Jin Ling played his games.

“I don’t think you would have.” Jin Ling disagreed, remembering how he’d woken up with Jingyi practically laying on top of him. The shirt the older man had put on when they went to bed was gone, leaving him in his boxers. An arm had curled up around his neck with Jingyi’s face tucked into the crook of his neck. The warm breath causing goosebumps. One of his lean legs hiked up over Jin Ling’s hip. It’d been a good way to wake up but he knew Jingyi needed the rest. So he’d slowly untangled himself from his boyfriend letting him sleep in.

“Oh?” Jingyi chuckled as he grabbed the spare hair brush and two hair ties from the end table drawer. A stash they kept for these occasions. Jingyi noticed the blush creeping up his boyfriend’s neck. He chuckled leaning forward, “Scoot up.”

Jin Ling complied easily letting Jingyi get situated behind him. He laughed hearing Jingyi’s stomach rumble. “I just ordered us some pizza and that shrimp salad you like. It should be here in a bit.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jingyi grinned happily.

He didn’t flinch when his boyfriend slipped the headset off his head. Quick skilled fingers gently worked his roots with the brush before putting the headset back on. He even tapped the unmute button for him. The moment they heard him whisper thanks to Jingyi, his two close friends started in on him.

“Where did you go A-Ling?” Zizhen cooed when he started chatting with them.

“Saying sweet nothings to your pretty boyfriend?” Jin Chan asked sachrinnely.

“No and he just woke up.” Jin Ling answered rolling his eyes at the teasing continued in his ears.

“Awww, so kisses instead of sweet nothings then.”

“Oh, the spiciness of love.”

“Did you mean sweetness? Because did you see his instagram post?”

“Oh shut up the both of you. Some of us are actually playing a game here.” He laughed knowing that he was blushing, hoping that Jingyi couldn’t hear what they’d said from where he was so close to him.

Jingyi bit his bottom lip as he braided his boyfriend’s silky soft black hair. He had heard what they’d said to Jin Ling. It was funny and made him like them even more. Besides, Jin Ling was fun to tease. Like right now, Jingyi grinned mischievously, not that his boyfriend could see it. While braiding the other’s hair he brushed his fingers against the other’s sun kissed neck. Pleased when he noticed the other shiver. Jin Ling quickly tapped his knee that was beside his hip in warning.

Jingyi merely chuckled at his antics. He continued working the silky hair into the fishtail braid that he’d learned over the summer. His gaze flickering past the other’s shoulder at the wall. He could tell that Jin Ling was back to focusing on his game and waited for the right time to retaliate.

Jin Ling knew it was too good to be true that Jingyi had just stopped with a love tap. He should have stayed on guard but those fingers in his hair and the game had distracted him. He was just about to deliver a death blow when he felt a kiss being pressed to his shoulder. Jin Ling so did not jump despite what the giggling from his boyfriend behind him meant.

“What the hell man?” Jin Chan called Jin Ling out over the headset.

“Stop your whining.” A-Qing piped in as her D.Va popped into save him.

“Thanks.” Jin Ling bit out as he glared over his shoulder at his boyfriend.

“No Problem.” A-Qing said before her mic went silent again.

Jin Ling huffed purposefully leaning back to pin Jinyi to the couch. However, with Jin Ling’s hands occupied with the controller. It really wasn’t a smart plan, because that left Jinyi free to do what he wants with his hands. And since he’s just decided that he wants Jin Ling all to himself now. Hello roaming hands.

The moment he felt his boyfriend’s hands slide underneath the hem of his tank top he knew that Jingyi wasn't going to behave and let him finish this session. In fact, he’s a hundred percent sure of it, but like the stubborn person he is Jin Ling is determined to complete the session. So he lets him get away with running his hands over his hips and stomach. He’s almost to round three when he feels a kiss to the side of his neck as well as Jingyi pressing pointedly into one of Jin Ling’s sensitive spots.

“Shit.” Jin Ling gasped, feeling a shot of heat flare down his spine, pooling in his gut. The controller slipped from his hands as he sharply turned to scold his boyfriend. Except Jingyi had anticipated that, using the moment to man handle Jin Ling so that he was laying on his back beneath him.

“Jin Ling?” Jin Chan called through his headset.

“You alright?” Zizhen asked.

“Jin Ling’s fine but he’s done for the day.” Jingyi grinned, pressing the power button on the headset before tossing it off somewhere passed the coffee table. Not giving Jin Ling the opportunity to fuss about his headset, the game, or cutting off his friend. He leaned down capturing his boyfriend’s lips in a hungry kiss. He heard the plop of the head set still landing on the carpet somewhere. But he didn’t care and apparently neither did Jin Ling with the way he was gripping the front of his shirt pulling him closer.

“Dinner.” Jin Ling panted when they parted for much needed air.

“Isn’t here yet. So we can stay right here.” Jingyi replied, claiming those lips again. His plan to keep Jin Ling right where he is till the food comes. Then after they eat, have his boyfriend for dessert.

#you're my muse au #jinyi #mdz kiss prompts #Jin Ling #Lan Jingyi #Fairy #smooches #slightly spicy

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somekindoftuber · 6 years ago

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vld youtuber AU part two (klance)

part one

Lance gets home from spring break with his raw footage and gets right to editing. He’s pretty pleased with how it came out, but he still waits a few days to post it, worried he’ll seem overeager. Shiro posts the video that Lance is in the next week, and he’s so thrilled, it came out great. Keith had been working the camera a bit and Lance sort of wants to thank him for capturing some flattering shots. He quickly posts the video of his song and links Shiro’s channel.

He contemplates sending a follow request to Keith’s locked twitter, but doesn’t. He just met the guy and he doesn’t seem to be the type that opens up easily, and Lance doesn’t want to push his luck.

Flashback to when Lance left Shiro’s garage after filming. Keith is cleaning up and getting ready to lock up the garage when Shiro gives him A Look.

“Lance was nice, don’t you think?”

Keith pauses where he’s sweeping the floor. “He’s alright, I guess.”

Shiro just grins at him.

Things go well after that. Shiro follows Lance back in twitter, and they chat about videos and cat memes. Lance has noticed that Shiro will sometimes disappear off the internet for a few days at a time, but doesn’t pry.

Lance keeps streaming, and starts to occasionally post videos of his streams. He uploads an Overwatch clip where he sang a stupid song over the mic that had his entire team rolling with laughter, and it gets a lot of hits. A few days later, he gets an email, and has to blink a few times. Because it’s from Keith.

Lance,

Thanks for posting that Overwatch video. Shiro was feeling down and it really cheered him up.

-K

And that’s it. And it puts the biggest smile on Lance’s face.

Months go by and things are normal. Lance keeps finding himself looking at Keith in Shiro’s videos, but who can blame him? The guy is hot, and there’s nothing wrong with admiring the view. He hasn’t really spoken to Keith beyond that one email exchange - Lance had sent him a reply that was probably a little too long-winded but whatever - but he doesn’t mind. Too much. That’s what he tells himself.

Pidge calls him out on his bullshit. “You are absolutely crushing on Shiro’s brother,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“I am not.”

But then he mentions it to Hunk on Discord and his oldest friend just laughs at him. “You so are,” Hunk accuses. “Even I can tell.”

Lance just glares into his webcam. So maybe he is. So what? He’s allowed to have a crush. Crushes are harmless. Besides, the guy lives five hours away and Lance doesn’t even know his last name. He’ll eventually get over it and that’ll be that.

Lance gets another opportunity to film with Shiro and he absolutely jumps on it. Shiro invites Lance to stay with them since they have a furnished basement he can stay in for the weekend and he is so excited. It also means he’ll be getting out of Pidge’s hair, since she has some intense projects to finish before the semester is over and needs to focus. So he puts in a time off request at the cafe where he works part time.

Lance packs his bag, his guitar, and all of his filming gear and makes the five hour drive on Friday morning. He only makes one pitstop for snacks and a bathroom break in some tiny town with absolutely no cell signal, then is on his way again.

When he parks on the street in front of Shiro’s place, he checks his phone and panics. Tons of texts. Emails. Twitter DMs. Missed calls. He hadn’t seen them because he was driving, and the one time he stopped, there was no signal. The most recent text is an unknown number:

>Lance this is Keith I got your number from Pidge please call me asap

Shit. Shit shit shit. He calls the number and it picks up after one ring.

“Hello?”

Wow, his voice even sounds nice over the phone. “Uh, Keith? This is Lance.”

“Lance.” There’s a pause. “Um. Where are you?”

Lance looks up at the house. “In front of your house…?”

He thinks he hears Keith curse under his breath. “Okay, I’ll be out in a second.”

Keith sounds tense and Lance is out of his car immediately, shutting the door just as Keith comes out of the small house. He definitely looks tense, shoulder hunched as he marches towards Lance.

“Hey,” Lance greets. “Is everything okay?”

Keith glances around, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Um. Shiro isn’t feeling well. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to film this weekend.”

“Oh.”

They stand there on the sidewalk awkwardly for several minutes. Lance looks down at the phone in his hands. “Sorry,” he tells Keith. “I was driving and didn’t have a signal, so I didn’t see any messages until I stopped just now.”

Keith rubs the back of his neck. “How far did you drive?”

“Harborville,” Lance shifts his weight. “It’s about five hours from here.”

Keith curses again and fiddles with his phone. Lance is starting to panic because he just drove across the state and the place he was supposed to stay is sounding like a no-go and he’s too tired to drive back he doesn’t really have money for a hotel right now —

“Grab your stuff,” Keith says, “and follow me.”

“Uh. You sure?”

Keith’s expression is blank. “Shiro said you could stay, so you can stay.”

Keith ends up helping Lance carry his stuff inside, down to the basement apartment. It’s small but nice, with a tiny bathroom and a back porch that opens up to a wide yard of weeds and grass. Keith gives him the wifi password, then shuffles awkwardly.

“Sorry. You came all this way for nothing.”

Lance looks up. “Oh! Uh, no, it’s okay, things happen.” He puts on a smile. “I’ll find something to occupy myself, and I can get out of here tomorrow.”

The atmosphere is so, so awkward.

“Um.” Keith motions at his phone. “I was gonna order a couple of pizzas. What kind if toppings do you want?”

Lance perks up a little. “Oh man, I’ll eat literally anything. Get whatever you want, I’m good.”

Keith just nods and goes upstairs. Lance uses the bathroom (holy hell that last energy drink was a mistake, he’d been holding it for so long), then answers all the texts he got from everyone that wasn’t Keith. He assures Pidge that he’s fine, explains what happened, and says he will be back tomorrow.

Keith comes back downstairs about a half hour later with two pizza boxes and a couple of bottles of beer. Lance helps him and they go out onto the back porch, where he finally get to meet Kosmo. His mood is instantly lifted, Kosmo is huge and unruly but sweet as can be, and Lance alternates eating pizza and throwing a drool-covered ball across the yard, watching Kosmo dart after it like a freight train. Keith laughs softly.

“Are the cats around?” Lance asks as Kosmo rests his giant head on Lance’s thigh.

“They’re upstairs,” Keith answers quietly. “With Shiro.”

Okay. Guess he’s not meeting the cats this weekend.

They finish off most of the pizzas, Keith saving several slices for Shiro. It gets awkward again. It’s barely sunset and Lance has no idea how he’s going to spend the next twelve hours. Sleep?

“Wanna play some Overwatch?”

Now there’s an idea. “Yeah! I brought my laptop.”

Keith gives him a little half smile, though it seems forced. “I’ll go get mine.”

They set up their laptops in on the coffee table of the little sitting area in the basement, sitting on the carpeted floor. Keith brings down another beer for each of them and they start playing, Lance using an external drive to record because why not. Keith adds him as a friend so they can play together and it’s stupid how much that pleases Lance, even if he gets the feeling that Keith is just humoring him out of guilt. Keith is also a Genji main and that’s not surprising in the least, though he sometimes plays a pretty effective Mei and a devastating Doomfist. Lance sticks to Widowmaker and Ana, and though it takes them a few rounds to find a groove, the end up working surprisingly well together, each getting Play of the Game a few times.

They take a break and Lance ends his first recording to start another while Keith goes upstairs for another round of beer and a box of cookies that they put between them, and then it’s time to really have fun. Lance invites Hunk into the game and they find some gag servers. Lance starts singing his joke songs, making everyone laugh. At one point he darts back to the room where his stuff is to grab his guitar and play it while he sings. He makes up little jingles about player’s screen names until Keith finally chokes on his beer a little, then throws back his head laughing.

And holy shit, Keith has an amazing laugh, his face lighting up and the corners of his eyes crinkling as he snorts a little. Lance keeps singing just to keep hearing him laugh, and finally Keith is hunched over his laptop covering his face because he’s in tears. It’s incredible and Lance thinks that this, right here? This made the five hour drive worth it.

His voice gets too tired to keep singing and Keith looks sleepy, so they agree to call it a night. Keith takes his laptop and says goodnight with a smile that looks genuine. Once he’s in his sleeping clothes and settling into the guest bed, he’s messaging Hunk to gush a little about Keith. Hunk just sends him several eyeroll emojis and tells him to go to bed.

Lance wakes up disoriented and takes a full five minutes to remember where he is, dehydrated and groggy with a headache forming. Right, he’s in Shiro’s basement. He gets up and brushes his teeth, then looks at the stairs. Can he go upstairs? He can smell coffee, and he would do just about anything for some caffeine right now.

He hears a chirp and looks up again. The basement door is open and there’s a fluffy red tabby at the top of the stairs, looking right at him. One of the cats! With a giant grin, Lance creeps up to the top. The tabby backs up, and Lance is out of the basement before he realizes it, crouching on the floor to hold his hand out to the gorgeous cat that sniffs at his fingers.

He’s been petting the cat for several minutes before he realizes he’s in a kitchen, and he’s not alone. Sitting at the little breakfast table in the corner is Shiro, and he looks like hell. Hair a mess, face scruffy, bags under his eyes and wearing rumpled sweats with a blanket draped over his shoulders. But what Lance notices the most is that his prosthetic arm is gone, his right bicep tapering in the middle before it just stops, covered in webs of scar tissue. His chest is dotted with more scars.

Lance stands up. “Shiro?”

Shiro doesn’t respond right away, his eyes sort of vacant as he stares at the wall. Then he turns to look in Lance’s direction and seems to snap to attention.

“Lance,” he says and his voice is rough and tired as he pulls the blanket around himself with his left hand. He looks over to where the coffee maker is on the counter, at the opposite side of the kitchen. “I was just getting some coffee--” Shiro goes to stand but he looks like he’s in pain, favoring one leg.

Lance jumps. “I’ll get it!” he rushes over to the coffee maker and is sort of relieved to see Shiro sit back down in his peripheral. There’s a bunch of mismatched mugs in the glass door cupboard just above the coffee maker, so he pulls out one and fills it.

“Uh.” This is super weird. “Do you want sugar?”

Shiro gives him this tiny little smile. “There’s some hazelnut creamer in the door of the fridge.” he fidgets a little. “You’re welcome to have some too, if you want.”

Lance thinks that might be the best thing he’s ever heard and pours himself a cup, then goes for the creamer in the fridge. He brings the two mugs to the table and sits down across from Shiro, passing him the mug that’s printed with instructions on how to moonwalk. Shiro mutters a thanks and takes a few sips.

Lance nervously drinks his coffee and tries not to freak out. This is definitely not how he expected this weekend to go. The Shiro in front of him was so far removed from the one he knew online - the cool, confident Shiro was a million miles away, replaced by a man that sat at the table and sipped his coffee like he was expecting the roof to collapse on his head any second. It was unnerving, and Lance feels horribly out of place, like he was intruding on something meant to be private.

Before he can say anything, Shiro speaks up. “I owe you an apology.” he looks like he’s struggling. “You came all this way, and I can’t even film with you. I’m sorry.”

Lance does his best to smile. “It’s okay, really, it’s not your fault you got sick.”

Shiro frowns, then slowly lifts a hand to rest on his right shoulder. “I’m not sick,” he says. “It just... Bothers me sometimes.”

His arm. Shiro is a veteran. The pieces click into place.

Shiro explains a little, that his time in active duty changed him. That sometimes he remembers things he doesn’t want to and it’s hard to get past it. He says he’s better now, with therapy and medication, but it’s still difficult sometimes. Sometimes he still shuts down, gets phantom pains.

Lance doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just reaches out and pats Shiro’s hand where it’s resting on the table.

The sound of tapping claws makes them both turn, Kosmo rounding the corner panting happily, followed by a half-asleep Keith. And Lance can’t help but grin, because it’s an adorable sight. His hair is wild and poofy and all over the place, shirt slipping off one shoulder and wearing sleep pants that are printed with cats playing jazz instruments. Keith rubs at one eye with the heel of his hand and doesn’t really seem to register either of them, going straight for the coffee maker.

Lance learns that Keith takes his coffee black.

He’s halfway to the table with a steaming mug in his hand before he even realizes Lance is there, then Keith pops awake with a squeak.

“Morning,” Shiro says. Lance shrinks a little in his chair before muttering a “good morning.”

“Uh.” Keith keeps glancing between them. “Good morning.”

Shiro looks unfazed and takes a drink of his coffee. “Lance and I were just having a chat.” He smiles. “What did you two do last night? I heard a lot of laughing.”

Thanking all that is holy that he finally has a conversation topic to break this intensely awkward silence, Lance tells Shiro about their Overwatch game and the songs he made up. Keith snorts a laugh or two over his coffee and Shiro is wearing a genuine smile.

The conversation lulls. “I should probably pack up and hit the road,” Lance says. He tries to hide his disappointment. But Shiro shakes his head.

“No, please, you’re welcome to stay. We can probably get a little filming in tomorrow.”

It’s the best thing Lance has ever heard.

An hour later they’re all showered and dressed and Shiro looks significantly better, his hair combed and face shaved. He’s wearing his prosthetic again, even if he still has dark circles under his eyes. They pile in Shiro’s truck and head to a local bookstore with a cafe attached, and Shiro introduces Lance to Allura, one of his oldest friends.

Lance is struck a little speechless at first because Allura is so beautiful she can’t possibly be real. But she shakes his hand and Lance can’t place her accent but she’s sweet and cordial, sipping on a coffee with a book next to her elbow that’s in another language.

They spend several hours in the cafe just talking about college, YouTube, cats, and their shared friends the Holts. Allura is in grad school studying sociology or something like that (the title was long and complicated and sounded super difficult). Shiro gets up to get another muffin and Keith goes to the restroom, and Allura puts a hand on Lance’s.

“Thank you for caring for Shiro,” she tells him.

Lance is confused. “I didn’t really do anything…?”

But Allura shakes her head. “He’s told me about you and your videos. You make him laugh and have been a friend to him. It means more than you know.”

Lance blushes hot and doesn’t know what to say.

They return to Shiro’s and have a small barbecue, just the three of them and a small charcoal grill, a pile of meat, and a cooler of beer and soda. Lance plays happy songs on his guitar while Keith plays with Kosmo in the yard. Shiro looks so much better than he did that morning, and they trade stories until sunset. Shiro goes to bed and leaves Lance and Keith alone.

They talk into the night as they pick at the last kebob. Keith is still stoic and secretive, but he’s loosened up after a couple of beers and speaks more candidly than Lance has ever heard. About how he and Shiro aren’t related by blood, how he had it rough before Shiro found him. About adopting his dog from a shelter. Little things, too - Keith hates spicy food, is ambidextrous, and is a crossfit trainer. Lance files away all these little bits of information like precious treasure and goes to sleep with them bouncing around his brain.

The next morning, they head to the garage to film. Shiro doesn’t do an intro, still looking sort of tired, but assures that he can do a voice-over later. Lance and Keith trade camera duty as they work on the old chopper. It’s in bad shape and Keith has to bust out the welding equipment at one point. Lance swallows hard and tries to keep the camera steady because that shouldn’t be hot. Keith in a welding mask with a torch shouldn’t be hot but wow. Lance is definitely in trouble here.

They film for hours until Shiro says he’s too tired to keep going, then they pack up and head back to the house. Lance helps cook dinner and Shiro looks relieved, saying that he and Keith can’t cook very well outside of barbecue. They sit around the table and Lance can’t believe he’s there, in Shiro’s kitchen, trading stories with him and his brother like they’re old friends. A few months ago they seemed so untouchable, like celebrities that he looked up to. Now Shiro is laughing so hard he snorts at a story that Lance is telling him. Lance catches Keith’s eye a few times, smiling when he does.

Lance has to head back on Monday morning, and Shiro pulls him into a hug. It has Lance sputtering a little before he hugs back. Shiro whispers a thank you and it’s so sincere and heartfelt that Lance feels his eyes water a little. Keith just clasps his hand, squeezing it tight. No hug, but the look he gives Lance says a million things that he’ll have to sort out later.

For the drive home, Lance puts on his Florence + The Machine playlist and sings until his throat is sore, so happy he feels like his heart could burst.

Continued in part 3!

#text #AUs #youtuber AU

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thebliznet · 5 years ago

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Story Time...Of My Gaming Moments:

So, before I played Apex Legends, I used to play Paladins for 6 years now. (Paladins is like a rip off version of Overwatch) I made it to a certain rank in the game and finally moved on. Now I just play casually because it still has a place in my heart, but it's like every few months or weeks compared to how much I play Apex.

Anyway...

Today, I get into a rank match of Paladins, game kicked me before the match started, so I knew that would probably mess up my team just a little to capture point. Log back in, made it back in just after the first point capture, my team leading. Long game short, we won. Whoo! No complaints, right?

Nah, someone apparently didn't like how I played that match even though we won? I already knew that wasn't my best game including the game kicked me at the beginning.

They started talking smack in the chat lobby, talking about my dmg, saying someone else's character choice was better and I was like damn...

So, the player continues to stay in lobby chat, still talking about my stats while I'm like:

So, I respond with:

"Anything else?"

"Someone thinks they're making me angy lmao."

"Gonna call me a mean name? Hmmmmm?"

I was literally just giving them the bone at this point and their response was:

"Lol funny"

So, I responded with:

""Funny" That's all you can say?"

Then they finished out whatever this was with:

"a"

And I was confused, so I responded with the same thing and they put "a"

So, I was like are they calling me an ass or something? I was laughing at this point and was genuinely confused. Then they just left the chat and I was just like....what??? LMAO

Out of all the toxic players I met, this was the most weirdest and funniest encounter I have ever had. I just wanted to share this strange story...The End.

#paladins #gaming #gaming moment #weirdest encounter #toxic players #story time

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mobius-prime · 5 years ago

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285. Sonic Universe #12

Knuckles: The Return (Part 4 of 4): Echoes of the Past (Part Four)

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

Things are certainly dire, as both teams of heroes (minus Julie-Su and Ray, still up on Angel Island) have been captured by Finitevus and the local Dark Egg Legion chapter. Finitevus gloats about how well his plan has gone, that he found the Legion when he was investigating the very same ruins that had Knuckles so confused, and from there orchestrated an alliance between himself and them, so they could capture Angel Island for Eggman/the Iron Queen's regime and Finitevus could study the Master Emerald at his leisure. After monologuing a bit at the furious Knuckles, he takes his leave to go oversee Angel Island being reeled back into the Great Crater, something which… really should be more stunning to everyone involved, if you ask me. I mean, literally the past several centuries of echidna history have been irrevocably shaped by exactly this concept, returning the island to the planet's surface. Dimitri did his whole godhood insanity thing entirely because people didn't agree with his plan to set this in motion, and perhaps even more importantly, his plan was shown to have failed in an alternate timeline, causing the island to crash into the earth and kill everyone on it. Apparently, this entire time they shoulda just been using regular ol' chains to do the job! Imagine after so many hundreds of years of this being an issue, Finitevus really did just accomplish the task with some random chains. But anyway, Finitevus leaves the prisoners to the overwatch of Bill, who so far hasn't said a word during Finitevus' speech despite his former friends being among the imprisoned.

Oh no! Whatever horrible tortures are about to befall our heroes? The torture of having their shackles fall off harmlessly, as it turns out. Yeah, of course Bill didn't just turn evil for no reason! Though he does appear to have some beef with Vector, remarking angrily that he'd have preferred if Vector stayed chained up. Man, what in the world did Vector do in the past that pissed off so many people? Barby demands an explanation, with her dialogue vaguely hinting that she and Bill were possibly involved romantically, so Bill explains that several months ago when Eggman began pushing in this region, the other platypuses decided they wanted a little taste of that power and began demanding to join up. Bill couldn't talk them down, so instead, he went to Eggman and voluntarily joined his cause, becoming outfitted with cybernetics along with the other platypuses, hoping to manage the situation from within. Apparently he never found a chance to tell his former teammates that he wasn't actually evil after all, but he's been doing his best to mismanage the campaign in Downunda without seeming too suspicious. Everyone is pleased and relieved, and he urges them to quickly make their escape so he can play it off as having been overpowered while separated from his backup. Thrash happily obliges, and reveals his own special power - yelling so loudly that it can break down doors. The fight against the Legion in the crater quickly commences, but Walt encourages Knuckles to head back to his island while they carry on the fight here on the ground. Vector can't see a way to get back up without their warp ring, but Mighty apparently has an idea of his own.

I just need everyone here to remember that according to canon measurements, this island floats forty-three miles (69 km) in the sky. Yes, I realize that's only the case because Penders didn't create his units of measurements with sanity in mind. No, that does not mean I'm ever letting this fact go. It's also worth noting that this entire arc portrays the crater as not looking much bigger than like, a mile across at the most, but the island is forty-seven miles (75 km) across at its narrowest. I mean, we already knew that no one pays attention to matters of scale in these comics, but still, I notice, and it bugs me to no end. Consistency, people!

Anyway, Mighty tosses Knuckles alllll the way up to the island, as the fight continues to rage on the ground, and he hops up over the edge just as Finitevus is about to put his grubby hands on the Master Emerald. No sign of Julie-Su or Ray anywhere, huh? Knuckles is immediately ready for a fight, but Finitevus tries to talk him down, actually apologizing for forcing him into the role of Enerjak before. Knuckles still isn't buying it, but then Finitevus hits him with the bug guns - Dimitri actually wasn't the first Enerjak. Finitevus claims to know everything about the echidnas' history, the fact that Enerjak goes back much further in their history, the true history of Albion, the origins of the mysterious ruins in the desert, even some secret about Aurora and how she may not even be a real goddess. Knuckles is clearly torn for a split second, because damn are those some juicy-sounding secrets, but he's shaken back to reality when Finitevus tries to pull the "We're two of a kind, you and I" trick and promises, if he joins him, to give him "anything he wants." And what does Knuckles want?

Finitevus is not amused by Knuckles' defiance, and turns the fight around on him while mocking his childish desires. Hilariously, he actually does the cool-guy thing of catching Knuckles' punch in his own hand, which seems badass until you realize we're talking about the guy with spikes on his fists. I can only assume Ian forgot this little detail, or else the rest of this issue would just be Finitevus yelling in agony at the two brand-new holes that had been punched into the palm of his hand. Knuckles powers up with the energy of the nearby Master Emerald, while Finitevus summons his… I dunno, dark black evil-guy energy or whatever, and they go head to head, Knuckles reciting Tikal's prayer for strength, while Finitevus puts a new twist on the same chant.

I actually don't get Ian's fascination with Tikal's prayer at all. It's always recited verbatim from the version of it in Sonic Adventure, but personally, I always felt like it was strangely translated in that game, not really making a ton of grammatical sense, or any real sense at all, really. I mean, the chant was originally just supposed to describe the relationship between the Master Emerald and the Chaos Emeralds, but that's not relevant at all in this universe given the vastly different origins of both - the Master Emerald in the comics isn't a direct counter to the Chaos Emeralds like in the games, but one giant Chaos Emerald itself. I dunno, maybe this is just a nitpick, but it still confuses me.

Finitevus is impressed by Knuckles' display of raw power, but decides to end the fight quickly, and pulls out one of his warp rings, encircling it around Knuckles midsection and happily threatening to close it while Knuckles is still only halfway through. However, at that moment Julie-Su finally makes her entrance and shoots Finitevus in the shoulder, distracting him long enough for Knuckles to grab him and make good on his promise to throw him off his island. That doesn't seem like a proper solution to this threat at all, but eh, whatever, Knux is happy with it I guess. He, Julie-Su, and Ray all head back down to the crater, where the Downunda Freedom Fighters have finished running the Legion off for now, and say their goodbyes. Barby makes a remark that her father would have been proud of Vector, hinting at yet more unexplored history between him and the others, but he still refuses to explain further when Ray tries to pry. Thrash leaves through a warp ring of his own, making some odd comments about how it would be such a shame if the rest of the echidnas were to be wiped out - this guy really doesn't like echidnas for whatever reason - and with the threat settled, Knuckles and his friends finally head back onto Angel Island for some peaceful rest.

Yeah, gee Vector, I wonder why no one found a body? I mean, it's not like Finitevus has demonstrated that he can warp himself to safety mid-fall during literally the previous big battle against him or anything. Of course, he's safe and sound, and heads back to the crater once it's clear to watch the island's departure and muse to himself how his plans aren't through yet and he's ready to kill Knuckles when he next gets the chance - anything to put him closer to the Master Emerald. Let us know how your quest to off one of the comic's most popular characters goes, buddy!

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #su 12 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: tracy yardley #colors: jason jensen

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aominetchi · 5 years ago

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Little rant, loves

I have played overwatch about over a half year now and I have noticed some thing while I have been playing. I wanted to write them down and list them. And this is just because I want people to understand some things about this game, actually, about this community.

!This is just my opinion and things I wanna personally say. If you don´t agree with me, don´t even bother to write down your comments!

(my english ist so good, sorry for that!!)

Quick play/ Arcade

1. Don´t be so mean/rude

- You have to remember this is just a game. Its nothing so important that you have to be mean to others. I have played so many games where people are really rude in chat.

- Example one person told me to fuck off, one person said that I suck and one person said TO MY FRIEND that she should kill herself in irl. Do you think that that is right to say? Hm? No. Its not.

- If you are pissed off, just calm down and leave OR just play and be quet.

- I can be pissed off too, but I stay quet and play my came without being rude to others. I recommend that to yall.

2. Dont blame others by your mistakes

- I have seen players who suck by them selfs and then blame others. Its not right to say others that they suck because your own mistakes. Learn from your mistakes and next time fix them.

3. Dont go SOLO

- This is really annoying, for real. This is teamplay, teamgame mostly. So don´t go solo and die AND then yell to the healers because they didn´t heal you. Why they didn´t? Because they stayed with team and helped them. What you did? You played solo, not with team.

- When solo is okay? Its okay when you are trying to ult. I do this with mccree. I stay with the team but when my ult is ready, I try to find good place to use it. Its okay also if you are sniper. Thats obviosly meant to be solo.

4. Smurfs.

- I will just leave this here.

5. Easy

- *Inhales* Shut up

- This is really ANNOYING. I understand that some matches were easier than others BUT you don´t have to say it out loud. It might make some players feel really bad and feel like they were nothing. And sometimes this makes me feel frustrated too. I tried my best and all I was is easy?

- One time when I was playing with my friends the match was really intense and we had hard time to capture that are to ourselfs. Even that fucking overtime came and we were in full attack. Well, we finally captured it to youselfs and finally payload moved. Then, one of our team mates comments in chat: ”So easy”… HONEY, that totally wasn´t easy. I realized that player tried to just annoy the other team. THAT IS SO STUPID. *sigh*

Practice vs. AI

1. Dont be your main

- This is frustrating to see. There are players who are trying to learn play or are trying to learn play with new hero. So if you are just going there to get easy play of the game or show your skills: fuck off.

- That place is just for training, not for those who just wanna mess around. Go there to learn new, don´t go there to just be your main hero and ruin everybody elses practice time.

Things you should do!

1. Be kind and respectful

- Everyone should remember this. Not just in games, in real life too.

2. Praise

- When game is ending its really sad to see (mostly) how much negative things are said in chat. Like ”my team sucks” ”noobs” ”you didn´t even try” ”where was my heals??”

- It would be nice to see something positive sometimes. Really! I´m trying to be positive and praise players after our game. Example one time I praised one good Mccree player because that player was so awesome! And that player was in enemy team

- It makes this game much better if there is even some positive energy!

- And one time when I played Hanzo and did something awesome with my ult, one enemy player praised me and where happy for me. It felt really nice. Like really nice. Because instead of negativity there was some positivity!

- So try to praise good players. It makes everything better!

3. Try to understand

- Sometimes there are players who has just started to play or there are low level players who just came in your game. They are learning, they are trying and most importantly they are there to play for them selfs and for fun. SO DONT BE MEAN TO THEM. Try to remember that one time you were same place as they are now.

I hope that you read all and agree with me and if you dont: dont say anything!

Me and my friends are always discussing about these when we play together. We all agree.

Be kind and play wisely!

#Overwatch #game #video games #rant #players #personal #people #positivevibes

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svftdandelions · 5 years ago

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¡𝔸𝕟 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥!

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

𝙸𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝚆𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 ♡

𝙱𝚃𝚂

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

0:00━━♡━━4:22

Volume: ▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ █ 100%

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢

Hello, guys, my name is Alexandra or Alex 🥥

And welcome to my Tumblr ✨ —— On this post, I’ll go into details on how this blog will look like, but the first thing on the agenda is an Intro, so let’s get started on the “about me.”

About me

🌿 I’m 16

🌿 My B-Day is September 18

🌿Pronouns: She/her

🌿(For any HP fans) I’m in the house of snakes 🐍

🌿(For any PJ Fans) Apollo, is my patron and Athena, is my matron.

🌿HS student (🎓 ‘23)

🌿Live in Maryland, US (“We have crabs 🦀”)

🌿My zodiac is a Virgo ♍️

🌿My favorite colors are gold, yellow & blue

🌿I’m Multi-fandomed

🌿Kpop Stan (BTS•ARMY!)

🌿Love the outdoors ⛺

🌿I’m bilingual, meaning I speak two languages (Spanish is my native, but I also speak English, in the future, I hope to learn Korean, Italian, and Portuguese.)

🌿 I’m a graphic designer (Not professionally but as a hobby) Editor and Author.

🌿My birthstone is a Sapphire

🌿Nationality: [American] Ethnicity: [Salvadoran, Spaniard, and European]

🌿 I am a supporter of the LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈

🌿Huge fan of sports (Soccer has my heart ⚽️)

🌿Love watching anime (Yuri on ice, Free!, Diabolik Lovers, My Hero Academia, Haikyu!!)

🌿Big into gaming (I grew up with the Nintendo console, PlayStation and Xbox, but here are some of my favorite titles —- Detroit Become Human, Resident Evil franchise, Call of Duty, Overwatch, Minecraft, Just Dance, God Of War and so much more...)

🌿Lover of different cultures 🌎🌍🌏

🌿Diverse music listener (I listen to the music of all genres and languages.)

🌿My favorite instruments are the piano 🎹 and violin 🎻

🌿Huge Disney lover

🌿My favorite book series as of now is “Truly Devious” by Maureen Johnson and the “Trial of Apollo” by Rick Riordan

🌿My favorite movies are movies with action, but I’m a sucker for romance so here are some of my top favorites, (Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle [V:2017], Crazy Rich Asians, The Meg, Skyscraper, Charlie's Angels [V:2019], Avengers movies, Spiderman Movies and so much more...)

🌿My classes for this semester are English Honors, Algebra 1B, Health, Apush —- (when I do graduate I hope to go to med school and become a psychiatrist)

🌿 You’ll get to know more about me as we go on but now it’s time to get into the writing aspect of this blog.... 😌

Writer & Author

I have been writing for as long as I can remember, but it was til fourth grade where my love for writing truly started to blossom.

We had a decrisption writing assignment— this memory I always remember clearly and I supposed that’s due to the amount of detail that went into it.

We needed to write imagery, about a photo we choose from a magazine or article, and I choose this building a modern one in the city -- this picture was taken during the night in the rain.

At first, I was hesitant writing had never been my strong suite up to this point, in fact, I hated writing... But hey I needed a good grade so I suck it up and wrote.

Don't expect I was writing absolute Shakespeare because to be fair I was in fourth grade so what 8-9 years of age. But out of all the pieces of writing I did at that point in time, this one changed something within me it was a switch that was lifted... And when it was my turn to share with my class, at the end my teacher, and language art specialist, applaud me. As to the best of my abilities, I was able to capture that picture and teleport, everyone, to that location I made sure to use the color palette to my advantage, from memory I wrote the feeling of rain, and from the abyss of the night sky, I captured that moment.

From there on my love for writing only grew, and it's still growing from all I learn to write from all genres of literature, my passion each day only gets stronger.

My writing is unique in the sense of puzzles I write with clues weaved within the sentences -- the tiniest details can't be left untouched everything is important.

Description and detail, are my top pride and joy, vocabulary grows, day by day.

In the end, writing holds a special place in my heart, these characters, and storylines I have created will be moments in time, that will be always remembered.

And to you all, I hope you join to read one of my stories who knows maybe in this library you'll find a new book you'll like.

~Ty

¡𝕊𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕄𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒’𝕤!

(Plz follow any of these if you can 👉🏼👈🏼🥺 it would be rly appreciated.)

🌸Pinterest: 5Ahernandez

🌸Quotev: GoldenHeartalex

🌸Wattpad: avacwho

🌸PicsArt: isntitlovelyz

🌸Instagram: avacwho.uwu

🌸Discord: ID~ Cafe-lattae#7164

🌿Spotify: Name~ GOLD ✨

https://open.spotify.com/user/wypn53jhjeicrinp3c2n5k05l?si=KbMRFl1jS1y6unzliX3AcQ

🌺 Well guy’s that basically it, in the end I hope this post gives you a better idea on who I am as a person. I’m happy to be here and am really excited to dive into the community of Tumblr—-

To cap off, what this blog will basically look like —- For me I’ll be using this blog to post my writing and new works here. I’ll also use this blog to communicate with more of my readers and followers anyone is welcome to join.

I’m still new and I’m still learning so it’ll take some time but slowly and surely I’ll get the hang of it — ty all for your time and I can’t wait to be apart of this journey.

~Alexandra 🌺🌿✨

(Also my DMs are always open if you want some advice on anything it doesn't have to solely be just writing, or plainly if you just want to talk I’m here.)

#introducing myself #introduction post #new to the community #writer #author #graphic art #hello there #hola :3 #2020

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stormquill · 6 years ago

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Misconduct, Ch. 13 [Soldier 76/Reader]

You have an extremely inappropriate crush on your commanding officer. Maybe if you work hard enough, you’ll stop having feelings.

Credits: Collaboration with @antiloquist. Follow the blog / AO3 mirror @miss-conduct.

You levelled your gaze in the bathroom mirror as you adjusted the fit of your uniform. The wrinkles within the fabric smoothed out beneath your firm palming, nary a button nor strap out of place.

You had recently returned from a covert operation in France, successfully capturing Amélie Lacroix and bringing her into Overwatch custody. During the course of the mission, however, you learned the true identity of your Commander. Not only was the late, great Jack Morrison alive and kicking, but so was his ex-partner, Gabriel Reyes, an Overwatch-leader-turned-international-terrorist in possession of biotech you didn’t believe humankind would be capable of inventing within your lifetime. To add insult to injury, shortly after you returned to base, Soldier 76—no, Morrison—stepped down as your commanding officer without so much as a single word of warning.

A laundry list of recent events.

Had you forgotten anything?

Athena delivered your request to meet him at sundown, and you took his subsequent silence as an agreement.

There was no planning to your conversation this time, no flowcharts or emergency courses of action. Your dialogue would be directed by the worry in your bones, the weariness brought on by Amélie’s murderous gaze, by Reaper’s aura of death, by the feel of Morrison’s blood pouring down the front of you as you carried him back to the dropship.

With one final adjustment to your jacket, you crouched down and laced up your combat boots.

You dressed like you were on a mission.

That’s precisely what this was.

The training grounds felt familiar in a way little else did. The mechanical hum of bots reached your ears and gave you a boost of adrenaline, preparing you for intense drills, the preemptive rush almost pavlovian. This was where you first hauled out the gun you built, the one you could barely lift on your own. This was where you trained, where you improved your endurance, your strength, and your aim. Just yesterday, a few floors up from where you stood now, was where you got drunk and tossed bottles for McCree to pick out of the air with his revolver.

This was where it started, and this was where it would end, one way or another.

Another deep breath to steel yourself as you rounded the corner.

You almost didn’t recognize him.

Clad in cargo pants and a plain black t-shirt, Morrison leaned against the metal barrier bordering the cliff’s edge, keeping his back to you as he looked out over the landscape. No jacket or visor, no mask or pretense—just him and his presence, whole.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, not turning to face you.

You did not reply.

His voice had a warm clarity you hadn’t heard unhindered by the mask since you sat back-to-back on the hotel room floor in France.

It felt like such a long time ago.

(Him and his damn frozen burritos.)

Your thoughts poured in with varying levels of patience, filtered through the consideration of how many emotions you would let yourself bring to the conversation. You had questions, many questions, questions you made a point not to plan beforehand because he did not deserve the courtesy of your organization. As frustrated as you were, you had to maintain composure, as revealing how much his actions had affected you would have compromised your position. These mistakes were his to resolve, after all. Not yours.

Keeping an arm’s length from him, you approached his side, gripping the railing with both hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said at once.

You kept your tone even. “Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”

“Too many things to count.” He breathed out, slow and deep. “I warned you that I—”

“Don’t turn this on me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he replied, coolly. “I’m bad at this, Reader. I didn’t used to be, but I’m a few years out of practice.”

He was trying to be placating, you could tell, but the informality of his tone only served to annoy you. “Why are we here, Commander Morrison?”

He bristled at the sound of his name; it sounded so foreign, so distant on your tongue. “I stepped down as your reporting officer.”

“I know.”

An unfamiliar emotion—unfamiliar to you, at least—flickered across his face. The sudden set of his jaw, the slightest tug of a grimace at the corner of his mouth, both subtle traces of annoyance, but as his every microexpression was new to you, any reaction he let slip may as well have been spelled out before your eyes. It was satisfying, in a way, to see something other than the cherry-red vacancy of his visor across his face.

“I wanted to be the one to tell you, so you would at least know why.” His brows drew together in that old, familiar way they did when they still peeked up above his mask. “I stepped down so we could talk. Any questions you have, I’ll answer them the best I can. No secrecy. No bullshit.”

“You had to step down to do that?”

“I don’t make the rules anymore, Reader. I just play by them.”

The implication was not lost on you.

As a Commander within the organization, it went without saying he couldn’t speak openly because of his position. You were still new to Overwatch, and he was given orders to restrict what information you had access to; without him as your direct superior, however, he no longer had any obligation to stand in your way. Regardless of what Morrison told you today, Strike Commander Oxton was going to be under the impression you left this conversation knowing more than you should.

So you figured you might as well ask whatever the hell you want.

“...where’s Amélie?”

For a moment, Morrison looked surprised, as if that wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. “She’s in secure holding. Angela’s trying to figure out how to reverse what Talon’s done to her.”

“But she’s safe?” you pressed. “We’re not...interrogating her, or anything?”

“No,” he assured. “She’s been a prisoner of war for over a decade—Lena’s putting everything we have into her care. As a matter of fact, Amélie...” Hesitance gave him pause as he reconsidered his phrasing. “She asked about you the other day. ‘The one from Quebec.’ Wanted to know how you were doing.”

(Amélie was looking for you, too?)

Blindsided by the revelation, you were sure your expression of bewilderment had already given you away. No use trying to lie about it, now.

“We...had a few words on the ship,” you said, dismissively.

“That wasn’t on your mission report.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

You volunteered no further information. To your relief, he decided not to push.

Not right now, at least.

“I think she wants to talk to you,” was all he said.

“...can I do that?”

“Don’t see why not. Make sure you’re on Angela’s good side before you go asking her for favours, though. Take it from me.”

(Memories of you and McCree breaking into Dr. Ziegler’s office flashed through your mind, and you hoped you were half as stealthy then as you would have been if you were sober.)

After the events of Le Havre, you felt responsible for Amélie’s well-being; although she was in more-than-capable hands, that didn’t mean she wasn’t being harmed. Who had the final say in what was best for her, anyway? Had anyone asked her what she wanted, or did her condition render her incapable of providing informed consent? Did the countless attempts to reverse Talon’s procedure cause her any pain?

Would she even tell you if it did?

Weary, you dragged a hand down the front of your face to reorient yourself, covering your mouth as you stared out at the view beyond the training facility. Ice floes drifted at the foot of the distant mountains, the rocky landscape carving jagged edges into the horizon.

“You chased Reyes after we promised not to be reckless,” you mumbled into your hand, sounding bored.

“I did,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m your strategist. I’m your escape plan. Not communicating your change of objective was stupid as hell.”

“It was.”

“You put both of our lives in jeopardy.”

“I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“You know, agreeing with me still takes all the fun out of standing up to you.”

“But you’ve gotten so good at it.”

You sneered. As quick as he’d always been to own up to his mistakes, acknowledgement alone wouldn’t be enough, this time. “I’m going to need more than that, Commander.”

“My intel had Reyes on a different continent at the time of our mission,” he explained. “I wanted to make sure we hadn’t been compromised, but it was my chasing him that ended up compromising us. He let himself be seen because he knew I’d follow. I should have known better.”

“Couldn’t just rack up the sighting to bad intel?”

He shook his head. “The intel I had on him’s never been bad before.”

“Really?” you said, incredulous. “Who’s your source?”

“Sombra.”

“...oh.”

“Once in a while,” he sighed, “she’ll find me and tell me where he is, what he’s up to, where he’s going. Thinks that counts as me being indebted to her. I told her it doesn’t. That’s why she contacted you in Romania. She knew I wouldn’t take the algorithm, so she got you involved to grab it for me.”

You thought it over for a moment. “Then why lie about Reaper not being in France?”

“Maybe to prove how much I’ve relied on her intel up until now. Maybe just for the hell of it. I’ve learned to stop trying to rationalize her motives a long time ago—whatever they are, they’re for her own benefit. No one else’s.”

Everyone was connected in one way or another, you realized. By virtue of being an agent of Overwatch, you were just as much a part of this tangled web of complicated pasts and ulterior motives as anyone else was, like it or not—and like or not, you’d entered this game at a disadvantage, as everyone involved seemed to have some history with one another you were forced to learn about on the fly.

The most pressing question of all leapt from your throat, quicker than you could think to contain it. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

“About Reaper?”

“About you.”

You knew the answer, of course—McCree had told you the previous day—but you wanted to hear it from him, if only to test the waters of his honesty.

And he nodded again.

“You were the first recruit we picked up after we got the team back together,” he said. “Everyone here’s from the old days, or related to someone from the old days. When I came back into the picture as Soldier 76…the rest of the world may have had no idea who I was, but they did. How could they not? We were family.”

“Was that why you liked having me around?” You felt your grip on the railing bar tighten. “Because I was the only one who didn’t know?”

His face fell.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he said, “but it was a reason.”

(No bullshit, indeed.)

You weren’t sure if you had a right to be as frustrated as you felt. His identity was his own to protect, after all; as hard as it was to admit, he never owed you the truth. Even so, you felt like an idiot. You hated being caught off-guard. You hated not knowing all the facts.

McCree’s words rang through your thoughts, clear as day.

So are you mad at him for not tellin’ you, or mad at yourself for not figurin’ it out sooner?

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Morrison shift his weight, leaning heavier against the railing as he folded his hands together.

“I’m sorry you found out the way you did.” His voice was soft, but earnest. “I put on the mask to separate the man I am now from the man I used to be. You didn’t know who that was, but you took my lead, anyway. Spoke with me. Enjoyed my company. It...made me feel new again. I was afraid I was starting to consider you in ways I shouldn’t.”

“I’m pushing thirty, Commander, you can stop treating me like a child.”

“That doesn’t make the problems go away. I’m not your boss anymore, but I’m twice your age and I still have rank on you. There’s a difference in power dynamics, in experience—you might not see it as taking advantage, but that’s exactly what makes it dangerous.”

“I know,” you snapped in frustration, running a hand through your hair. “I know it does. How do you think I felt, crushing on my superior like some kind of tired cliché? I’ve gotten this far in my career without ever—I thought I was better than that. I tried to convince myself out of it. I thought working by your side would be enough.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

Your stomach sank. He hadn’t sounded accusatory, but somber, almost sympathetic.

“And by the time you realized it wouldn’t be enough,” he continued, “it was too late to say anything. Not without undermining all you’ve done and making it seem like your emotions were the only thing keeping you around.”

You watched him stare down at his hands, as if the words he was searching for were held somewhere between his fingertips.

“You’re smart. Tenacious. Diligent. If I were to...if I did anything that might’ve suggested I brought you on for a reason other than you deserving to be here—”

“I know I deserve to be here,” you interrupted. “Had my doubts for a while, but that was before I saved your ass.”

He chuckled, and the sound was music to your ears.

His striking blue eyes shifted to glance in your direction, the remnants of his laughter lingering in his smirk. “Guess there’s nothing stopping me now then, is there?”

“...stopping you from what?”

“There’s another reason I stepped down, Reader.” Wavering under the intensity of your gaze, he was no longer quite looking you in the eye. “I don’t want command over you, anymore. I don’t see you as my subordinate. I haven’t for a while.”

You had to keep yourself from trembling. “What am I to you, then?”

“An equal,” he said. “A partner.”

The bottom of your stomach fell out and shattered, filling your insides with slivers of ice as something dense and panicked tightened within your chest. There that word was again. ‘Partner.’ What he hadn’t had since he went rogue. What Winston once said Morrison had always been training you up to be. Your mind grew overwhelmed with the memory of a clawed, shadowed stature and a dark voice and a life-changing chance once gambled on.

How could you ever measure up?

“I’m not Reyes, Commander,” you whispered.

“I never wanted you to be.”

Vulnerability weighed upon his shoulders, the likes of which you’d never seen him bear, before. The gears in his head were turning, you could tell, thinking of you, and of him, and of where you would go from here. His eyes alone were so expressive, you noticed—a stark contrast from the statuesque carbon-fiber stoicism you were used to. You hadn’t realized how much the mask was hiding until it was off.

Maybe that was why he wore it so much.

“I’ve betrayed your trust,” he said, firmly. “I know that. I would like to work on getting it back, if you’ll let me.”

From where you once placed him on a pedestal, recent events had cast him in a lower, imperfect, more mortal light. The man you once idolized stood before you, nearly wringing his hands in anticipation, as human as you’d ever seen him. You respected him more, but you revered him less. You figured that was a good thing.

It was then when he looked away from you, returning his gaze to the absence of answers held within his barren palms.

So you gave him one.

Reaching to cross your forearm over one of his own, you wove your fingers between his, your silent gesture unapologetic and sure.

His hand curled back around yours at once, like a reflex.

He laughed quietly in disbelief. “Didn’t think I’d get a chance to feel this way about anyone, again.”

You felt him run a thumb across your fingers, the gentle motion making your breath catch in your chest. You glanced up at him; though he’d kept his voice steady, his eyes were glazing over, and the unexpected reaction decimated what remained of your resolve. The warm smile he gave you wrinkled the corners of his eyes, his expression giving you the briefest glimpse into a man many years younger.

“Truth is,” he beamed, “I’m crazy about you, sweetheart.”

You felt your heart seize within your chest.

The weight of his words collapsed on you all at once. It was you who made him feel hope, you who affected him so profoundly, you who made him question what he once swore off for the sake of self-preservation. You’d imagined him confessing before, but no amount of idle thoughts and private daydreams would prepare you for hearing the words out loud.

There was something settled behind his eyes, as well—something unsettling you couldn’t ignore. This was a man who didn’t seem to be afraid of anything, who made a career out of staying level-headed in the toughest of situations, and here he was before you, absolutely terrified. The last time he gambled on something like this, life and circumstance dealt him a poor hand; now, all these years later, he wanted to try again.

With you.

It was only when he brushed a finger to your cheek did you realize you were crying.

He breathed another small laugh, shaking a few of his own tears loose from the corners of his eyes. He could see you replaying his words inside your head—he could always tell when you were overthinking—and he squeezed your hand tighter to let you know how much he’d meant it.

You wanted to hold him close, to burrow deep inside his chest, to reach straight into his heart and fix whatever it was that made him so goddamn scared. But he would have to let you, first. You couldn’t do that if he continued keeping you guessing.

“Stop isolating yourself when things go wrong,” you said, the first on your list of ground rules. “You did it after Romania. You did it after Le Havre. I don’t need to know everything, but you need to stop disappearing on me.”

He nodded with total understanding. “Force of habit from going solo. I’ll work on it.”

“And I need you to talk to me more,” you continued. “If we’re doing this, you can’t keep me wondering where your head’s at.”

“You got it. That does go both ways, you know,” he teased.

“Hey, I never said I was any good at this, either.”

You gave him a sly smile and wiped your eyes on the back of your sleeve. Earlier that day, you didn’t think you would be standing in full uniform before your casually-dressed Commander, the two of you recovering from tears as he took orders for what he could do to restore your trust in him. A rare opportunity, indeed.

It would be a shame if you didn’t take advantage.

“...one more thing.”

“Name it.”

You levelled his eyes again. “Do you really want to be with me?”

He didn’t shy away from you, this time. “I do.”

You let go of his hand and took a few slow steps backwards, sliding away until your fingertips broke contact.

You hoped the smirk you gave him was half as playful sober as it would have been if you were drunk.

“Prove it.”

His look of confusion turned to surprise, then to determined understanding as he watched you walk away.

There had been a resolve in his voice, a finality, the kind that made you realize he would move mountains for you if you so much as wished it.

You had issued him a challenge. It was his turn to give chase.

And he was all too happy to comply.

#soldier 76 #soldier 76 x reader #jack morrison #jack morrison x reader #overwatch imagines #misconduct

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