#Wouldn’t even talk to him if I wanted to ;-; so now what ? I remain mute for the rest of my life ? Man I’m sick of this sick of having to

[kavehater]

how to kys without krilling yourself ;-;

[zoofzoofxx]

—The art of eyecontact—

Pairings ; Axel Kovacevic x fem!reader

Summary ; After Sam insisted you accompany her to the club, you finally agreed, hoping it would help you move past everything that happened with Axel. However, a peculiar interaction with Kwon set off a series of unforeseen events that caught you entirely off guard.

Warnings ; Alcohol usage

Pt. 3

୨୧・・・・♡・・・・୨୧

‘Come onnnn, Y/n, don’t be boring,’ Sam whined, her voice dripping with exaggerated desperation as she gave me a firm shake. I was curled up tightly in my blanket, fully immersed in the comfort of my couch and a random movie that I wasn’t even paying much attention to. Her relentless persistence was beginning to chip away at my patience.

‘No,’ I replied flatly, shaking my head with finality. Sam was on a mission to drag me to the club tonight, but the idea of stepping into that crowded, chaotic environment was unappealing—especially because I’d seen Zara’s story earlier. She was there with her team, and of course, Axel was with her. The thought of seeing him so soon made my stomach churn. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Tomorrow would already be challenging enough, and I needed time to steel myself mentally for what was inevitably going to be an awkward encounter.

‘Please, Y/n!!!’ Sam’s tone shifted to a dramatic plea as she sank to her knees, hands clasped together like she was begging for her life. Her exaggerated antics might have been amusing under different circumstances, but right now, they only added to my irritation. I barely glanced in her direction, still shaking my head in defiance.

Despite her theatrics, I remained unmoved. The mere thought of Axel lingering in the same room as me tonight was enough to make my resolve unshakable. Yet, as persistent as Sam was, I knew she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Sam groaned dramatically, throwing herself onto the couch beside me, her arm draped across her face like the world had just come crashing down.

‘You’re such a buzzkill,’ she huffed, peeking at me from under her arm. ‘It’s one night, Y/n. Just one. You don’t even have to stay long, I swear. And let’s be real, you’re going to look amazing in that dress you bought on our first day here in Barcelona. It’s way too stunning to be wasted.’

I looked up from my cocoon of blankets, unimpressed. ‘The dress is still in the bag, Sam. And I’m wearing sweatpants.’

‘And that’s fixable,’ she shot back without missing a beat. ‘Ten minutes, max. I’ll help you get ready, you’ll look incredible, we’ll dance a little, and—’

I cut her off with a flat tone, ‘And I’ll have to deal with Axel.’

Her teasing expression faltered for a moment, the dramatic air she carried around her suddenly softening. Her voice was gentler now, almost careful. ‘Y/n, you don’t have to talk to him. You don’t even have to look at him. Zara’s going to be busy with her team, and Axel… well, let’s just say he’d be a fool to let anything ruin your night. He’s not worth it.’

I hugged my blanket tighter, staring at the muted movie playing on the screen. I wanted to go—part of me really did—but the idea of seeing Axel tonight made my stomach churn. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to handle him; I just wasn’t ready. Not yet. Tomorrow, I’d have no choice but to face him, and that was already weighing on me. How could I mentally prepare for that if I had to deal with him tonight, too?

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air between us. Then, she shifted, sitting upright and leaning toward me with a small, knowing smile.

Sam’s knowing smile widened as she leaned closer, her energy impossible to resist. ‘Listen,’ she said, her voice soft and encouraging. ‘We’ll keep it simple. Just get up, put on that stunning dress, and I’ll help you with everything else. Trust me, you’re going to feel amazing. We’ll have fun, and you’ll completely forget about… well, you-know-who.’

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the chair where the shopping bag from earlier this week sat. Inside was the dress I’d bought on our first day here in Barcelona. It was from a cozy little boutique we’d stumbled across while wandering the streets—full of warm lighting, vintage mirrors, and racks of carefully curated pieces. The moment I’d seen the dress, I knew it was something special. It wasn’t flashy, but the soft white fabric and simple elegance had caught my attention. Sam had encouraged me to try it on, and though I’d hesitated, I couldn’t stop smiling once I saw myself in it.

‘I don’t know…’ I started, fiddling with the edge of my blanket.

‘Y/n,’ Sam said firmly, her tone kind but insistent. ‘You loved that dress. Don’t let it sit there when you could be out feeling as amazing as you look in it.’

Her words were enough to push me into motion. I sighed, tossing off the blanket and rising from the couch. ‘Okay, fine. But if this night turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you.’

Sam grinned triumphantly, clapping her hands together. ‘Fair enough! Now, let’s get to work.’

While she rummaged through her bag, pulling out makeup brushes and curling irons like a magician revealing her tricks, I grabbed the dress and headed to the bathroom. The silky white fabric felt cool against my skin as I slipped it on, the fit just as perfect as I remembered. When I stepped out, Sam froze mid-motion, her mouth falling open in mock astonishment.

‘Y/n,’ she said, drawing out my name dramatically, ‘you look like you just stepped out of a movie. That dress was made for you.’

I rolled my eyes with a small smile but couldn’t deny the hint of confidence her words gave me. ‘Alright, what’s next?’

‘Sit down,’ she instructed, waving me toward the chair in front of the vanity. ‘Hair and makeup, obviously. You’re in good hands.’

As Sam worked, her chatter filled the room, light and easy. She styled my hair into soft waves, adding just enough volume to make it feel glamorous but not overdone. For makeup, she went for a natural glow with a touch of shimmer on my eyelids and a classic swipe of mascara.

‘You know,’ she said as she blended the final touch of blush, ‘tonight’s not about anyone else. It’s about you having a good time. So, don’t overthink it. Just enjoy yourself—you deserve it.’

I met her eyes in the mirror, her sincerity catching me off guard. ‘Thanks, Sam,’ I said quietly.

‘Anytime,’ she replied with a grin, stepping back to admire her work. ‘Now, look at you! Ready to turn heads.’

I stood up, glancing at my reflection. The confidence I’d been missing started to creep back as I smoothed the fabric of the dress. ‘Alright,’ I said, grabbing my clutch with a newfound determination. ‘Let’s do this.’

Sam beamed, linking her arm with mine. ‘That’s the spirit. Now, let’s show Barcelona what you’re made of.’

We stepped out the door together, and for the first time that night, I felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

Sitting by the bar, sipping on an espresso martini, I found myself engaged in polite small talk with a few familiar faces from the opposing team. The atmosphere was loud and lively, filled with the thumping bass of the music and the hum of conversations around us. Sam and I had been chatting casually, laughing at something ridiculous she’d said, when she suddenly announced, ‘I need to call Miguel.’

I raised a brow at her. ‘Right now?’

‘Yes, right now,’ she said, grinning and waving her phone. ‘It’s important.’

The music was far too loud for her to have any hope of hearing him, so we decided to step outside. The crisp night air hit me the second we walked out, the stark contrast to the heat of the club sending a shiver down my spine.

Sam wandered a little further down the alley, pressing her phone to her ear and trying to find a quieter spot. I stayed back, leaning against a random wall as I waited for her. That’s when I felt it—the cold. It wasn’t just chilly; it was sharp, the kind of wind that made you regret not bringing a jacket.

Rubbing my hands together in a futile attempt to keep warm, I realized how much the alcohol had gotten to me. The espresso martinis I’d been nursing all night suddenly made my head feel heavy, and my thoughts a little sluggish. Drunk and cold was not the ideal combination, and I couldn’t help but shiver as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to stay warm.

The street around me was quiet, apart from the muffled music spilling out from the club doors behind me. I glanced over at Sam, who was pacing slightly as she talked animatedly into her phone. It was strange being out here, away from the chaos inside, but a part of me welcomed the break, even if it came with the chill.

I sighed, rubbing my arms as the cold wind sliced through me, making me shiver uncontrollably. The night felt even colder now that the alcohol in my system was wearing off, leaving me feeling a little disoriented. A yawn escaped my lips as I glanced toward Sam, who was still pacing further down the alley, her phone pressed to her ear.

The sudden sound of the club door opening made me turn my head, and there he was. Kwon.

He stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind him, his sharp eyes scanning the area before landing squarely on me. He was wearing a black jacket with a bold Cobra Kai logo stitched on the chest, the emblem catching the dim light. His presence was unmistakable, commanding as always, though his expression was hard to read—part surprise, part amusement.

‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked, his tone blunt as he walked closer, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

I straightened up instinctively, the cold biting at my skin even harder under his gaze. ‘Just waiting for Sam,’ I said, motioning toward her as casually as I could. ‘She’s making a call.’

Kwon stopped a few feet away from me, tilting his head slightly as he looked me up and down. ‘You look like you’re about to freeze to death,’ he said flatly, a hint of mockery in his voice.

I laughed nervously, rubbing my arms to try and warm up. ‘Yeah, it’s colder than I expected.’

‘Clearly,’ he said, arching a brow. ‘Did you even think about bringing a jacket, or are you just bad at planning ahead?’

I frowned, his tone making my stomach twist uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t think I’d be standing out here for so long,’ I muttered, looking away.

‘Right,’ he said with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket and holding it out toward me. ‘Here. Take it before you turn into an icicle.’

I hesitated, glancing between him and the jacket. ‘I’m fine. You don’t have to—’

‘Don’t make this more complicated than it is,’ he cut me off, his voice sharp. ‘Just take it. It’s not like I’m doing this for you—I just don’t want to hear about how someone froze to death outside the club.’

His words stung a little, but the cold won out. Reluctantly, I took the jacket, slipping it on. It was warm, the fabric carrying a faint scent of him—clean and woodsy, though I tried not to think about it too much.

‘Thanks,’ I said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, though his tone didn’t carry much warmth. After a pause, he added, ‘Next time, maybe think ahead. You don’t seem like the type who handles cold well.’

I bit back a retort, pulling the jacket tighter around me. Kwon always had a way of getting under my skin, but at least now, I wasn’t shivering.

‘I’ll be leaving,’ Kwon announced, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night as he saw Sam making her way back toward us.

I glanced at him, still not entirely used to his bluntness, but before I could respond, he patted my shoulder arrogantly, the motion deliberate and a little too forceful. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, and I could feel the slight warmth of his hand through the fabric of his jacket.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and started heading back toward the club. He didn’t look back, his strides purposeful and confident, as if he hadn’t just done me a small favor moments ago.

I opened my mouth, about to thank him for the jacket, but the words died on my lips as he disappeared into the club without a second glance.

I stood there for a moment, the jacket still draped over my shoulders, feeling the cold night air around me once more. I wasn’t sure why his arrogance stung, but it did. Sam was just reaching my side as I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Sam raised an eyebrow as she approached me, noticing the slight shift in my mood. ‘What’s up? You look like you’ve been hit with a wave of confusion.’

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. ‘Nothing, just… Kwon being Kwon.’

Sam tilted her head, a smirk forming on her lips. ‘Oh? Kwon being Kwon? What does that even mean?’

I sighed, glancing down at the jacket draped over my shoulders. The familiar Cobra Kai logo on the sleeve caught her attention instantly, and her eyes widened in surprise.

‘Wait a second,’ she said, her voice rising with shock. ‘You’re wearing his jacket?’

I felt a flush creep up my neck, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Yeah, he gave it to me,’ I muttered, feeling oddly defensive. ‘I was freezing, and he—’

‘Gave you his jacket?’ Sam interrupted, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘Hmm, that’s… not something I would expect from him. What did he want from you?’

I blinked at her, momentarily thrown off by her question. ‘What do you mean, what did he want?’

She gave me a pointed look, clearly not buying my nonchalant tone. ‘Come on, Y/n. Kwon doesn’t just hand over his jacket for no reason. There has to be more to it than that.’

I hesitated, unsure how to explain it. He hadn’t really wanted anything, at least not directly. He had been his usual distant self, sarcastic and borderline mean, but there was something in the way he’d offered me his jacket that made me question his intentions. Maybe I was overthinking it.

‘I don’t know,’ I said slowly, feeling a bit uneasy. ‘He just noticed I was cold and… I guess he didn’t want me freezing out here.’

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ‘Really? That’s it?’

I sighed, crossing my arms and glancing back toward the club. ‘Yeah, I guess so. It’s not a big deal.’

Sam didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it go for now. She looked me over one more time, her eyes lingering on the jacket as if trying to piece together some unspoken motive. ‘Well, I’m not complaining. It’s a good look for you, anyway,’ she said with a wink, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. ‘Thanks, I guess.’

I could tell Sam wasn’t a big fan of Kwon, and I had a feeling her compliment about me looking good in his jacket wasn’t exactly genuine. She was just trying to distract me, to get my mind off Axel. It was clear in the way she’d casually brushed it off, as if the whole thing with Kwon was no big deal. But the truth was, it wasn’t that simple.

I tugged the jacket a little tighter around myself, feeling its warmth but also the odd weight of it, like it carried more meaning than just the fabric against my skin. The whole encounter with Kwon had been strange. There was something in the way he’d acted—his arrogance, his nonchalance—that made it feel less like a simple act of kindness and more like a gesture wrapped in layers of unspoken tension.

As we walked back toward the club, Sam chattered on about the night, about how great it was that I’d decided to come out and how much fun we were going to have. But I couldn’t focus on her words. My mind kept drifting back to Kwon’s indifferent attitude and the way he’d just left without a second thought, and then there was the nagging thought about Axel.

Axel.

The thought of seeing him again tomorrow had already been enough to set my nerves on edge, but now, with Kwon’s jacket wrapped around me, it felt like there was something pulling me in two different directions. I didn’t know what to make of any of it.

Sam nudged me playfully, clearly unaware of the storm brewing in my head. ‘Come on, don’t let that jackass mess with your vibe. We’re here to have fun, remember?’

I smiled faintly, trying to force myself back into the present, but the weight of the jacket, of Kwon’s words, and the unspoken tension between me and Axel stayed with me. It wasn’t that easy to forget.

We stepped back into the club, and the contrast hit me immediately—a hot, suffocating wave of air, thick with the mix of bodies, music, and lights. It was a sharp reminder of how loud and alive everything was in here compared to the quiet, chilly night outside.

Feeling the heat creep up on me, I slipped off Kwon’s jacket, draping it over my arm. The faint scent of it still lingered, grounding me in a way I didn’t fully understand. I opened Instagram on my phone, typing out a quick message to him: Hey, is there a chance we could meet later? I have your jacket. I hit send but noticed it stayed unread. Typical Kwon.

Before I could dwell on it too long, something else grabbed my attention. Sam was weaving her way back toward me through the crowd, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. In each hand, she held a shot glass, the liquid inside glinting under the strobe lights.

‘Look what I got!’ she said, her voice cutting through the music as she handed me one. ‘Cheers to us, Y/n!’

I hesitated, eyeing the glass suspiciously. I knew my limits, especially after everything I’d already had tonight. ‘I don’t know, Sam,’ I started, shaking my head. ‘I think I’ve had enough.’

But Sam, ever persistent, rolled her eyes before knocking back her own shot effortlessly. ‘Come on,’ she coaxed, her tone playful and teasing. ‘It doesn’t even taste like alcohol. I swear.’

She stuck her tongue out dramatically, proving her point, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little. She was clearly in her element, and her energy was infectious. Relenting, I finally raised the glass. ‘Fine. Just this one.’

‘That’s my girl!’ Sam cheered, pulling me into a quick side hug as I downed the shot. True to her word, it didn’t have the harsh kick I’d been expecting, just a subtle sweetness that lingered.

I smiled faintly, raising the now-empty glass in a half-hearted cheer. ‘To us, I guess.’

Sam clinked her empty glass against mine, her enthusiasm practically radiating off her. I, on the other hand, found my focus slipping as I clutched Kwon’s jacket in one hand and tried to lose myself in the moment. But my thoughts kept circling back to Axel.

What was he doing right now? Was he here somewhere in this chaotic crowd, or was he still out with Zara and the others? No matter how much I tried to shake it off, the thought of him loomed in the back of my mind, pulling me in a direction I wasn’t sure I wanted to go.

‘Soooo… another shot?’ Sam asked, her tone mischievous as she swayed a little, clearly enjoying herself.

I shrugged, feeling the buzz of the night taking over. ‘Sure!’ I replied, grinning and forgetting entirely that I was supposed to be keeping track of my limits.

Sam disappeared for a moment and came back with a different color this time—a vivid blue shot that glowed under the club lights. I took it in my hand, ready to drink, when Zara suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

She was as drunk as we were, her excitement bubbling over as she hugged me tightly. Her words were slurred, tumbling out in a chaotic, happy mess.

‘Whoa… re-repeat what you just said!’ I laughed, holding the shot in one hand as I tried to make sense of her rambling.

I was about to drink it when a firm hand stopped me. Turning, I saw Kwon standing there, his expression sharp and unamused.

‘I think you’ve had enough,’ he said curtly, snatching the shot glass from my hand before I could even protest. He placed it on a nearby table with a deliberate motion, clearly unwilling to argue.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam grabbing the abandoned drink without hesitation and knocking it back, oblivious to Kwon’s disapproval.

‘Oh! Kwon!’ I said, suddenly remembering the jacket. I grabbed it and shoved it into his hands with a bright smile. ‘Thank you for warming me up earlier.’

He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and something unreadable, but I didn’t give him time to respond. Turning to Sam, I grabbed her wrist. ‘Sam, let’s go outside. I don’t feel well,’ I said, pressing a hand to my temple.

The club felt overwhelming—the heat, the pounding music, the blur of lights and voices. My head was spinning, and the sensation was too much.

I managed a weak smile at Zara and Kwon before guiding Sam toward the exit. Once outside, I collapsed against the same wall I had been leaning on earlier. The freezing night air hit my skin like a splash of cold water, helping to clear my mind, if only slightly.

I sat there, eyes closed, focusing on my breathing as Sam lingered nearby. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps, and when I looked up, Kwon and Tory were walking toward me. Kwon carried a bottle of water, his usual sharp demeanor still intact, while Tory’s expression was softer, filled with concern.

Tory knelt beside me, gently grabbing my hand as she offered the water. ‘Drink some water,’ she said firmly.

I barely registered the sound of more people spilling out of the club, their footsteps crunching against the pavement as they approached. My eyes stayed closed, my body too heavy, the cold air lulling me toward sleep against the wall. That is, until a familiar scent drifted past my pink-tinted nose—a warm, intoxicating mix of something unmistakably Axel.

My eyes snapped open, and there he was, kneeling beside me. His hand rested gently on my knee, its warmth cutting through the chill in the air. Axel’s expression was calm but serious, his gaze flicking to Tory as he murmured something about getting me, Sam, and Zara home safely.

Tory nodded, giving me one last reassuring smile as she rose to her feet. Kwon followed her without a word, his jacket slung over his shoulder, and they both disappeared back into the club.

I blinked sluggishly, trying to piece together what was happening, but before I could form a coherent thought, Axel scooped me up effortlessly. My head lolled against his shoulder as the steady rhythm of his footsteps replaced the chaotic noise of the night.

The crisp night air carried his scent, a mix of cologne and something inherently him. I found myself leaning into it, breathing it in as my eyelids fluttered. My thoughts grew hazy, and the world around me blurred into a comforting haze.

The next thing I knew, we were in the quiet sanctuary of my hotel room. Axel carefully laid me down on the bed, his movements gentle and precise, as if afraid I might shatter. The softness of the mattress beneath me felt like a cloud, pulling me further into the depths of sleep.

Zara appeared out of nowhere, rushing to my side and enveloping me in a drunken hug. Her voice was a jumble of words I couldn’t quite make out, but the warmth of her embrace was familiar and comforting.

Axel gently but firmly pulled her away, his touch protective yet restrained. As Zara stumbled back, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

I blinked up at him, catching the subtle shift in his eyes. They weren’t cold or indifferent like they usually were—they held something different, something warmer, something… admiring. He didn’t smile, but the look was enough to stir something in my chest.

I muttered something under my breath, barely audible even to myself. Maybe it was, ‘Sleep tight.’ Maybe it was nothing at all.

As I rolled over, hugging the small teddy bear I always kept on my bed, the faint sound of Axel’s footsteps retreating faded into the quiet of the room. My last thought before sleep took over completely was the lingering feel of his presence and the way his eyes had looked at me—like I wasn’t just another fleeting part of the night.

[straystarr]

i miss you, i'm sorry; lmh

 in which alcohol and a broken heart prompts you to make a phone call to your ex.

Reference(s): “I miss you, I’m sorry” written by Grace Abrahams and a line from Notting Hill directed by Roger Michell

~

“I miss you”

The flashing lights seemed to somehow mute the chaotic noise around you. Head hurting, mind overwhelmed, and still, your fingers unconsciously danced across the screen of your phone, typing a number you had deleted months ago.

Some things don’t stay the way they're supposed to. Out of sight, out of mind right? Funny how all logic and rational thinking is suddenly muddled by the denial of a broken heart. 

“y/n.”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you’d cry at the sound of his voice. Instead, the concern in his tone forced a bittersweet smile to form on your face.

He shouldn’t be worried, he shouldn’t have even answered. But he did. And you hated that you knew he would. Because even in your drunken state, it was so natural for you to go back to him. 

“You promised.” 

You felt pathetic. Clinging onto his promises of forever, even when you fought his declarations towards the end of your relationship. The need to be right overpowering the need to be loved.

It was careless, taking everything you loved and disputing it with cruel words driven by a fixed mindset. And he did the same. Hurt people hurt people, because no one wants to be hurting alone. 

You did your best to move on. You really did. It was easy at first, fueled by anger and pinpointing all the blame of your failing relationship on him was something you did with your head held high. 

And then all of a sudden, your pride became too hard to swallow and all the hate you spewed ricocheted in the forms of longing and regret. 

You often found yourself reminiscing about fights in his apartment and the disappointment that came with broken dishes, just to get a glimpse of him.

Because he was always readily available in your mind, whether it be in the form of heartbreak or not. And the extent to which you would willingly fall back into these moments only resulted in any progress of moving on to slip through your fingers.

“y/n, where are you?”

How do you move on from someone who is so deeply engraved into your mind, someone who has touched every part of you with sweet kisses and gentle hands, someone who starts your thoughts and always ends them.

For these reasons, your doubts and hesitations were not baseless. Because how do you move on from someone you once promised forever to? It almost seems wrong to do so. 

“I don’t know what to do Minho. Everywhere I go leads me back to you. Everything I know brings me back to us.” 

There was so much to say, so much you wanted to tell him. It was desperate and embarrassing, but others might say you were simply in love; that you were just a girl, talking to a boy, asking him to love her. 

“Y/n, please��.go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

“Every corner of that fucking house is haunted Minho.” 

It was suffocating. Home was no longer home but a place filled with traces of his presence. Bittersweet reminders of the life that once flourished remained in every room.

His coffee cup in the cupboard, his hoodie tucked away in your drawer, the silly love notes he left embedded into your books, his morning kisses, his laughter, his smile, him. 

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even in his absence, he was consuming you. So no, you wouldn’t go home, you couldn’t. Because the definition between home and Minho seemed to blur overtime. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore."

The drunken daze was now fading away, your clouded mind becoming overwhelmed with the sober emotions that flowed through your body, because they were one in the same when you were drunk, just easier to handle in a state of intoxication. 

“I thought you hated me.”

Such a statement was not meant to be laced with the gentleness he evoked, so much so, a certain heaviness clung to your chest. For the reminder of the three words you spewed at him the last time you spoke will forever bring feelings of angst and regret. 

“Minho…”

Some things are better left unsaid. Until the time comes when those things are all you can think about, clouding your judgement and cultivating a narrative of missed opportunities guided by the words “what if”.

You had many. And they creeped up on you, leaving you lost in your thoughts of love that you’ll never be able to live, at least, not with him.

But not was not the time to wallow in your self pity and despair. Not after all the time you had dedicated to pondering over the “what ifs” and certainly not when the person these “what ifs” revolved around was here, listening to you. 

“I was angry and upset and desperate to hurt you. I don’t hate you—I never could. I’m sorry.”

The slow sigh that ran after your words displayed your relief more than you intended. Thinking back to the last time you spoke to him was routine for you.

But this time, instead of being tormented by the hurt laced in the memory of that night, you were now comforted by the fact that your truth was now something he knew.

And you weren’t going to deprive yourself of his, no matter how much it may break you. You were in too deep to consider that now. 

“Do I still make you sick to your stomach?” 

It was his turn to let out an audible sigh. And it seems as though you weren’t the only one reminiscing back to that night; for his response appeared to be nurtured with time and consideration.

“No y/n, you never did. You never will. I didn't mean that. I wish I had ever said those words to you, but I did. I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing to say something. It’s another to mean it. And it felt nice to hear he didn’t. You knew he could never have meant it, but the assurance you experienced upon his confession pulled apart the remaining angst embedded in your memories. You could only hope he felt the same.

It was cold outside. Somehow, your feet carried you out of the stuffy place, the moon illuminating the still street, a complete contradiction to your surroundings a few seconds ago. 

The silence seemed to emphasize your acknowledgement of everything that had happened and was happening. The phone pressed to your ear. The quick beating in your chest. The familiarity of the slow breaths he took as you listened. Your boldness. His patience. 

“I’m sorry I called. I know we said we weren’t talking—”

“I miss you too.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His voice low and quiet, almost as if the statement was a passing thought that had slipped past his tongue. But you caught it, as did your denial, that after all this time, he too missed what once was.

A part of you wished your ears had been deaf to his words. Because the way your hand fell to your chest, the way it felt as though your heart had paused, the way tears immediately lined your waterline, was the same way you recognized exactly how much you missed him.

One step forward and three steps back is the damage his words did. But you started it first, and it was only fair to finish what you started. 

An absent smile lined your lips with tears falling down your face. Your tears were warm against your cold skin and you so badly wanted the warmth to stay.  

“Everything we were scared of happening, happened Minho.”

“Nothing happened in the way we wanted Y/n.”

Your absent smile turned bittersweet, fingers gently grazing your cheek in an attempt to catch the warmth from your eyes. You were right. And he was too. They say that nothing that is meant for you will ever get away, so why did he?

“Is this better for us y/n?”

It’s hard to make peace with something you don't entirely agree with. He hurt you more than anyone else has. But he loved you better than anyone ever did. 

“I don't know. I’m still confused.” 

Your eyes shut, squeezing what was left of your tears out. 

“I do know that I was really happy with you, we were happy together. And we were really good to each other.”

You went into this conversation with hope and uncertainty. It was only normal for that hope and uncertainty to cultivate into doubts and hesitation. He didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Not now. Not ever. 

“But….”

“But we’ve been here before. And I want to love you because I love you, not because I need you— I missed you Minho…..I miss you. I’m sorry.” 

And in an instant, no sound came from his phone. Your voice, gone, as if it were never there.

Gone before he could familiarize himself with the highs and lows of your tone. Gone before he could tell you to not cry, for he recognized the tell tale signs that you were. Gone before he could say everything he wanted to say and more. 

And perhaps that's why he continued to hold the phone to his ear, head falling to the back of his couch as he allowed the words he meant to say to you, the second your name appeared on his phone, break free from his lips.

Barely a mumble, but with his whole heart and all his truth. 

“I still love you, I promise.”

Check out the easter egg in this story!

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[turbulentscrawl]

Could we get some hc stuff for weeping? He never gets any love. Your work is amazing btw ♡

Thank you!

You know, before this I honestly kept forgetting he exists...but after doing a lore dive and doing these general hcs I'm feeling like he's going to become a favorite.

As a note for tagging, I typically use a character's human name for my blog's tagging system, but since "Joker" is a name used in so many fandoms, his will be "weeping clown x reader"

As always, if you guys like my work consider sending me a request!

Identity(V) Headcanons: Joker

-The acid which scarred him was only mixed with his colored face paints. The white base he uses didn’t harm him, so the scarring he has is mostly around his mouth and down from his eyes, following the shape of the red lips and teardrops he painted on. He still wears face paint most days to try and cover what he can of the scarring, but he’s paranoid about what he uses now. He keeps his paints locked away where others can’t access them, and always tests them on his arm before using them on his face.

-Joker has very little self-worth. It goes beyond basic insecurity, though he has plenty of that as well. His entire reason for living is based on the value he has to other people. At first, that’s restricted to just the way he can bring a bit of joy to the Hullabaloo crowds, and the few shallow friendships he’d made along the way. When Margaretha entered the picture, though, it began to twist into something even more unhealthy.

-He still has some remaining love for Margaretha, but he’s more withdrawn from her. He was disfigured, he did something horrible, and she left. But if it really came down to it, and he had no one else to talk him out of it, he probably would continue going to her whenever she calls, albeit with more inner turmoil. It goes back to that self-worth again; Margaretha makes him feel like he can be a valued protector regardless of not being very physically capable.

-At his core, Joker is a very kind and sympathetic person. He cares about others, their wellbeing and happiness, and even in a world without the above self-worth struggles he would go out of his way to help people…

-But he’s become a bit jaded since the massacre. A bit angry, even. No one did anything when he was the sole victim. No one stood up for him like he stood up for others. No one cared about his disfigured face because now it matches his disfigured body, right? …but he makes himself swallow those feelings when they start to bubble over. He doesn’t want to be that person. He doesn’t want to add more cruelness to the world.

-He’s on the quiet side. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him mute, but he chooses his words very carefully. If ever he’s unsure of what to say he would rather say nothing than ramble aimlessly. When he does speak, it’s with long pauses and shifting, thinking eyes. Conversations with him tend to move at a crawl.

-He likes gentle people. Eccentric people are fun too, but he prefers gentleness if he must choose one over the other. He got along with Mike before the massacre, but events like that have a way of either cementing or shattering bonds and theirs took the latter hit. I think he’d get along well with several people in the manor, including Luca, Emma, Victor, Eli, and Helena. He’s not exceptionally close with any of them, but few people dislike his presence.

-He’s very good at telling all manner of jokes, but he rarely does anymore. That’s a development from before even the massacre; he was required to employ depreciating humor on stage, both of himself and others, and over the years it caused him to grow heavy with guilt. Now, he may shoot off a pun occasionally, but even that is rare. He really doesn’t like to be the one joking around anymore.

-He does still like doing tricks, though! They’re not his specialty, but he didn’t go all that time in the circus without picking up a thing or two. He’s more than happy to show off these skills if they entertain his friends.

-He’s really good at finding things? It’s basically a supernatural power. If you ever lose something in the manor, he’s a good bet to check in with before you tear your room apart. Honestly sometimes he just shows up to return things before someone even knows they’ve lost it.

-Joker is completely touch starved. At first glance it may seem the opposite, as he tends to move away from incoming contact, but this is only because he often doesn’t know what to expect. As far as kind touches go, he’s given more than he’s received, and always with a nervous, shaking hand. When he has some kind of relationship where contact is both safe and common, he’s attached to your hip.

-On that note, Physical Touch is the best love language for Joker. He also appreciates the other four, but touch is his favorite. He’s a very clingy partner who always wants to sit shoulder-to-shoulder or hold hands. If his partner is less than enthused about PDA, he’s okay with more subtle touches as well, such as hooking your ankles together under the dinner table. Rebuffing his desire for contact too many times can and will result in some seriously hurt feelings. A relationship between him and someone averse to touch probably wouldn’t work in the long run.

[freyjhasdesiredreality]

We'll Do It Together (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

(Credits to GIF owner)

A/N: Hey guys! I actually liked this one so I decided to finish it when I saw it in my drafts. I used Taskmaster's female version like in MCU. Let me know what you think!

WC: 2.6k+

Warnings: Mention of HYDRA (very big role), action scenes (more than one), battles, mention of death. Let me know if I missed any!! Not proofread, grammar mistakes are my own.

When you escaped the Red Room, you knew your life wasn’t going to be easy. You were their masterpiece. You were the Red Widow. They put that disgusting serum inside you so you could be stronger than ever. The serum did a lot of wonders on you. It was even better than other super soldiers. Maybe it was because you were a female. Maybe the substances were different. You didn’t know. You couldn’t ask. You weren’t allowed to. They didn’t like it when you talked. So you muted yourself. You swore you wouldn’t talk again until the day you die.

Bucky knew how you suffered. He was there. He trained you, made you better. You could easily knock down anyone thanks to him. During those training you both developed feelings for each other. Maybe that’s why he trained you better than anyone. When HYDRA realised, they separated you. He escaped, you escaped and then you’ve never seen each other again. 

He didn’t give up on you though. Once he was out of Wakanda, he tried to find you. It wasn’t easy to find a widow who wouldn’t want to be found but he still asked Shuri as a favour. She’s been trying her chance since, just like Bucky but both of you had no luck. “I’m not giving up on you, Y/N,” he thought. 

-

You woke up with a headache. You’ve been working hard lately but you knew you had to stop or at least give a break. People would come after you if you took too much attention. A notification appeared on your computer. 

“I need to talk to you. It took me 2 years to find your work mail. I don’t want to wait anymore. Meet me on the back street of the usual place. -JBB”

You didn’t go. Or at least that’s what he thought. You watched him in the shadows like you always did. Your dark red combat suit, your hoodie and your face mask helped you stay in cover a lot. Through years you’ve learned how to stay hidden and you were good at it. 

-

“She didn’t come.”

Bucky basically threw himself on the couch, cursing himself for believing you would come. Why would you anyway? You probably didn’t even remember his name. You knew him as the Winter Soldier, not as James Bucky Barnes. 

“Believe it or not but we need her help,” Sam threw some files on the table. Bucky took one on his hand, reading and trying to understand what’s happening. “HYDRA is trying to recreate the Red Room. The director's name is unknown but I’m pretty sure they have already grouped somewhere,” he explained. 

Bucky furrowed his brows. After Natasha and Yelena destroyed the Red Room, it was about time remaining members would remake it. “We need this prick’s name before he screws up more lives,” he sighed. He opened his phone, tapped the camera and started taking pictures of files. Sam looked at him confused, “These are secret files Bucky, what are you doing?” he asked. Bucky kept taking pictures, “You wanted a widow’s help didn’t you? They need something, a target to destroy,” he explained without looking up. He tapped the mail app and entered your mail address. 

>HYDRA is rebuilding the Red Room, I added everything we know, we need locations and agents’ names. Paid job. Meet me in 2 days, same place, same time. 

Then he sent. He locked his phone again and looked for deeper information to see if he would connect anything with his past. “Now what?” Sam asked. Bucky looked at Sam with no emotion reaching his eyes, “Now we wait, research and eliminate.”

-

You were furious. “How could they?” you thought. But of course, what were you thinking? Of course HYDRA would do anything to rule the world. You couldn’t just sit back and wait for someone else to do something. Next 2 days you gathered every intel you could get and copied everything to a USB drive. 

You waited for Bucky to show up at the meeting time. You checked heat signatures to see any threats. There was only one, coming to the meeting point. Him. You waited 7 minutes before you showed yourself. 

“I was wondering when you’re gonna show up,” he said, turning to you. He looked at you from head to toe. “Did you find anything?” he asked. Your eyes locked in deadly focus. He frowned, waiting for you to do something but you were just standing there, counting his moves.

You charged forward, caught him off guard. You fist hit his jaw, making him lose his balance. “What are you do-“ before he could finish, you hit him again. He stood up quickly, tried to mirror your attacks but you responded with lightning-fast reflexes, deftly sidestepping his initial attack and delivering a swift kick to his gut. He groaned in pain, looked at you when you were observing. The mask, no talk. You reminded him of himself. “What have they done to you? Are you still serving them?” he asked with pain in his voice. But this pain was different. It wasn’t because you beat him up and he was feeling physical pain. It was because his heart broke into millions of pieces when he saw what you’ve become. 

You pulled out the USB out of your bra under your suit and handed it to him. He looked at you surprised, but suddenly everything hit him with a lot of senses. You didn’t attack him because you were still serving them. You were angry. With everything inside you. You were angry with every creation they’ve done. And he was one of their masterpieces. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He averted his eyes and looked at the USB. He took it from you and stood up. You took a step back, informing him you won’t attack again. He looked at you one last time, “I will stop them,” he promised and you left. 

-

“How can they still hide with low resources?” Sam was furious. Zemo sat there looking at him walking from one side to the other, huffing in frustration. “We need to try to find other ways,” Zemo said. Sam looked at him deadly, “No shit, Sherlock,” he mocked. “No need,” Bucky entered the room. “It seems like Y/N found everything for us,” he showed the driver. He took off his coat, his blood on his shirt was visible. Zemo took a look at him, “What happened to you?” he asked, pointing to the blood. “She beat my ass as payment,” he groaned. “Seriously, you got beaten by a woman?” He asked. Bucky, filled with frustration, was about to throw a punch to him but Sam stopped him. “A woman can do anything they want with the right motivation, jerk,” he hissed. “Plus, she is not an ordinary woman. She is a super soldier and was the best widow in HYDRA,” he said unimpressed. 

Bucky didn’t want to remember those days, how they brainwashed him to stab you because you were too loud, too anarchic or just not listening to anything they said. He cringed himself for doing those things, he wondered if you find him guilty, “of course she does,” he thought to himself. “I’m sorry for talking bad about your girlf-“ before Zemo could finish, Bucky landed his fist to his jaw. “What’s inside the driver?” he asked while Zemo was rubbing his jaw. Sam gave both of them an unimpressed look and started reading the intel. 

“Elisa Sinclair, also known as Madame HYDRA, is the new director of HYDRA. She is currently building her own high council aiming to recruit the Winter Soldier, the Red Widow, the White Widow, Helmut Baron Zemo and Maria Hill,” Sam read aloud. The trio looked at each other, frowning. “Her main goal is to rebuild the Red Room and have her own Black Widow army, all of them injected and built with super soldier serum. Taskmaster will be responsible for their training,” Sam continued. “Hold up,” Bucky interrupted. “I thought Taskmaster was on our side after Natasha and Yelena saved her,” he explained. “Out of everyone, are you concerned about the Taskmaster? They have our names on that list, Bucky,” Zemo hissed. 

Bucky looked at him with no emotion, “It says aiming to recruit us. Taskmaster is listed and her job is given already,” he answered. Sam thought for a second. “Could she be Y/N’s intel?” he asked. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows and thought about it. “We would never learn,” he could only say. “And why is that?” Zemo asked. “She doesn’t talk,” Bucky said and kept digging for information. 

-

“She will be unstoppable if she manages to do everything she wants,” Yelena said. Antonia, Yelena and you have been discussing everything Antonia knew for hours. “She is not suspected of anything, she thinks I’m on her side and trying to find old widows that you saved,” Antonia said. “Taskmaster is on her way to complete tasks,” Yelena giggled. They both looked at you, watching the conversation. “Are you not getting tired of this mute thing and you know that mask that covers your nose and mouth, how do you even breathe?” Yelena said. You shook your head and rolled your eyes, mentioning her to let go. “Did you give the driver to the soldier?” Antonia asked. You nodded your head. “Let’s hope he does something about it,” she continued. “Don’t worry, the soldier would do anything for her,” Yelena laughed, earning a slap behind her head from you. “Ouch, that hurt,”

-

For a month both parties have done their research, they gathered all the information and put it together. “We have to make sure all of them get arrested,” Sam said, explaining the plan. “Or dead,” Yelena snorted. He gave her a disapproving look before continued, “Taskmaster will be our inside control, she will turn the alarms off for us, Torres will take the air, me and Bucky will take the sides, Yelena and Y/N, you’ll be sneaking in and knock off agents until you reach front door for the SHIELD’s army and Zemo will be operating from behind. Is everything clear?” 

Everybody nodded their head, confirming they understood the assignment. Sam landed the Quinjet in a secret location. “The support team is positioned nearby, waiting to hear from us,” he said. Bucky glanced at you as you checked your weapons.  You signalled to Yelena that you were ready, and together you stood up to get off the jet. "Be careful," Bucky muttered behind your back. You looked at him and nodded your head. 

Yelena and you sneaked in through the window Antonia had left open.  After neutralising the two agents in the room you entered, you stopped and began to listen to the sounds.  Yelena pointed the device on her arm at the door and looked at the screen, “Four heat signatures,” she whispered. You nodded and raised your gun. You brought your hand to the doorknob and counted down with your fingers. You opened the door, ran through it together and neutralised the agents. “One floor down, two to go,” Yelena said. 

You and Yelena have reached the entrance after clearing 2 floors and 15 agents.  “There are fewer agents than I expected,” Yelena said. You frowned, indeed there must have been more people.  This was supposed to be their main base.  After easily neutralising the 6 agents waiting at the entrance, you pointed around to Yelena.  “You want me to wait here?”  she asked.  You nodded and pointed upward.  “Are you going up on the roof?”  she asked. You nodded. Pressing the communicator on her ear, Yelena informed, "We've cleared the entrance, the building is too empty, Y/N will check the roof, agents can come in."

Sam and Bucky were uncomfortable with the silence around them. Bucky exhaled angrily, "Why is it so quiet in here?"  asked. Sam thought the same way. "There are things we don't know, and I don't like this silence," he said. A feeling inside Bucky was hesitant that you went up on the roof alone. “I have to check on Y/N, he'll be there alone,” she said. Before he could even finish his sentence, a cry for help was heard from the communicator. “It's a trap, agents are waiting in the back, Taskmaster is injured, urgent backup is needed,” Torres said bitterly. “Y/N!”  Bucky shouted over the radio, "Don't go up on the roof, there's a bomb there, don't go on the roof!"  he called. But it was useless, “Her device is turned off,” Zemo informed. 

“Everybody leave the building now!” Sam ordered. More agents reached the building and there was a battle going on in the ground. Agents were falling from both sides. Bucky ran through the base, knocked down anyone who came his way. He needed to reach the roof before it was too late. Before he could get near, a loud explosion went off. “No!” he screamed to the air. “Oh come on, Y/N, please answer, it’s not the time to play the quiet game,” he begged. 

You didn’t know what was happening but your gut feeling told you something was off. Before you could understand, you heard the bomb’s clock ticking sound. You ran and tried to jump somewhere close but it was too late. The bomb exploded before you could leave. You found a tree branch to hold but it was weak, it was a matter of time it would break. You reached for the commutator in your ear and switched it on. “Bucky,” you said. He looked around to see you, to come to you but you were nowhere to be seen. His eyes teared up, “Hey doll, where are you?” he managed to say. “I swore to myself that I would talk the day I’ll die,” you said. Bucky listened to the sound coming around you to locate wherever you are. He started to run through some way his gut feeling told him. “I’m proud of what you’ve become,” you continued. “Don’t give up on yourself, you look good when you save people,” you giggled to yourself. The branch cracked, letting you know you didn’t have much time left. “I’ve never stopped loving you,” your voice cracked. Bucky could feel you were close, he looked around at anything high you could hold after the explosion, “We have a lot of time to recover the time we lost, doll,” he said. You shook your head, tears were streaming down on your face, “Get my revenge,” you said before the branch cracked and you started falling. 

You didn’t feel the pain like you thought you would. You opened your eyes to see one metal and one flesh arm holding you hard and a pair of baby blue eyes looking at you concerned but relaxed. “We‘ll get it together,” he said, crying. He reached for your mask to reveal your face and you smiled. You wrapped your arms around his neck, “You caught me,” you sniffed. He hugged you tightly, “I’m never leaving you again,” he let out a laugh between tears. He creased your cheeks, “I love you, baby,” he said and leaned in for a kiss. 

-

You were standing on the balcony, feeling the breeze on your arms. You felt two arms grabbing you from behind, warming you. “Can’t sleep?” he softly asked, giving small kisses on your neck. “I was thinking about us,” you said looking at him. He looked at you with his bright eyes, he kissed you, “So there is us?” he mocked. You furrowed your brows and slapped his flesh arm. He giggled, “Joke, joke,” he said. He kissed your forehead. “I want to kill Elisa,” you said. He looked at you, opened his hand for you to take. It was a sign between you two, a sign for promise. You took his hand and he said, “We’ll do it together.”

A/N: Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Message me if you want to be added on the tag list!

Tag list: @hungryhungarian

[finderseeker]

HERE’S MORE. I GUESS

the, uh. Previous part, for context. Yeah and there’s a tag now. For stuff related to the actual… “plot” of this. It’s #seeker/tempus storyline (hopefully that works on mobile,,)

This was not supposed to turn into a thing. This cannot become a whole thing I need to get back to my actual fic—

*sigh* But. Here we are. 4000 words of,,, whatever this is. I namedrop the other skeletons and then it’s Tempus ruminating and then him and Seeker crying at each other

Papyrus and Sans were, as one might expect, surprised Seeker tried to leave suddenly, especially without saying goodbye. WD only had part of the story when he went to tell them, after dropping her and Tempus off at the house. (He may have omitted the part where he initially refused to help Tempus stop her from getting killed.)

When the brothers all return to their house, a couple hours later, Seeker is curled into Tempus’s chest on the couch, and there’s a small pile of crumpled tissues on the floor. She’s since fallen asleep from exhaustion, but as tired as he is, Tempus can’t find it in himself to sleep too.

She said she loves him. It made his entire SOUL feel bright to hear that returned. He wishes they had been able to tell each other under better circumstances, but it remains a truth regardless, doesn’t it? Still, the joy is muted by fear and hurt. Does it make sense why she wanted to leave? Yes. Did she actually intend to leave him behind forever without ever saying goodbye? No. But it keeps replaying in his mind, the look on her face when he burst in to plead with her: the way she tried to ignore him. Yes, alright, she was probably focusing on not getting hit, but— there was just something about her expression. Something that stung like rejection. Would she not have told him her intention, even then, if he hadn’t directly interfered? She later told him that she didn’t know if she’d be able to come back, had she made it to the surface. What did that mean? Was there a version of this where she left and couldn’t return and he would have just never known why?

He pushes the thought away best he can and tries to redirect his attention.

It feels good to be able to hold her like this. To comb his fingers through her hair. To experience all the weird things close-up, like her heartbeat, and swallowing, and stomach noises.

…As happy as he is that she’s alive, and here, and loves him back, he’s a little upset at her, yeah. Yet how can he be? If he were in her shoes, wouldn’t he miss his family the same? And she wanted to help everyone. She wanted to help. It made sense to try to leave and come back—

But why was she so determined not to talk to him first? Maybe he wouldn’t have been happy about it, but…

And not only did she try to leave, not only did she try to ignore him when he came to find her, not only did she refuse to give any kind of explanation— she tricked him. Since the day they met, before he even knew her, he trusted her with his eyes. One of the first things she had learned about him was that he could hardly see more than blurred colors without his glasses. Sure, he took them off himself plenty of times, whether for his safety goggles, or to look cool in shades, or for some other reason, but that was different. She threw his glasses. She made him think she was relenting, coming to him in trust, and she tore them off his face.

Was everything else not enough without that on top?

She knew he wouldn’t stop otherwise. That was a correct assessment. She was convinced that what she was doing was necessary. That made her do things she otherwise would not have.

But did she have to twist the knife?

No amount of reasoning through it can pull out the seeds of doubt and fear that have begun to take root in his heart. No matter how long he spends sitting there absently stroking her hair and staring at the wall, no matter how much he reflects on what she told him, the thoughts of “she would leave if she could” play in perfect harmony with that background music in his soul that he rarely even notices anymore: a perpetual fear of abandonment.

And so when his cousins come home later, with Seeker asleep on his chest, he is sure the tracks of tears on his cheeks are still visible— as if the hollow expression on his face and equally hollow glowing of his eyelights isn’t enough to tell them he isn’t up for talking.

For once, no one tries to kick him off the couch for the night.

Papyrus brings them a blanket. At one point, without him noticing, Sans (presumably— since no one else can move that unnoticed) leaves a bag of takeout from Grillby’s next to the couch. Tempus eats his feelings in the form of then-cold fries. When he and WD catch each other’s eye at one point, Tempus looks away. Never one to push, WD leaves him alone.

In truth, he’s kind of pissed at his cousin. No, that’s not true. He’s livid. Sure: WD took him to the castle, and brought them home, and healed them. But he saw Seeker leave and wasn’t going to say anything? He knew full well what would have happened. He would have let her be killed. Even knowing how Tempus feels, even knowing she meant no harm, even knowing she thought of him as a friend! A human may be powerful, but not only is it blatantly obvious that Seeker would never kill, if WD had any doubt that Asgore would prevail, he would not have let her go.

He knew, he knew that he was letting her walk to her death. And then he tried to convince Tempus to let it happen.

WD is a nervous guy, and fears humans. As comfortable with Seeker as he had allowed himself to become in the last few months, none of the other skeletons were under the mistaken impression that he liked her very much. Even still, Tempus had thought it was more out of fear of being discovered or reported, out of fear for his reputation maybe, out of a lifetime of only focusing on humans’ potential for harm. Never, not once did Tempus think that WD, the cousin he was closest to, would just let someone die. And not just anyone— someone Tempus cares about.

In the end, is this how it really is? Not even the people you love care enough to tell you the truth unless you force it out of them. If it weren’t strictly necessary, would anyone actually tell him anything? Could he even trust them when they did?

Slapped in the face twice in one day.

…These fries taste awful cold.

- - -

Seeker wakes up late at night, when it’s dark in the house and everyone is quiet. Her head hurts like she got hit with a bat. …Why does it smell like fries? And what is she laying on? She sits up.

Oh.

Tempus.

Everything comes rushing back all at once and the guilt almost makes her vomit. He’s sleeping, but must not have fallen asleep too long ago because he looks like he’s been crying. It makes her heart twist so painfully that her eyes water a little. He was crying. And it was her fault. Gosh, he deserves so much better than her. When she thinks about everything he’s done for her, and how she’s repaid him…

A sharp, bitter laugh tears out of her before she can stop it. She still owes him $20.

Her stomach gurgles. She knows she’s hungry, and needs to eat, but the idea of eating is utterly repulsive with the nauseating guilt. Instead, she leans over Tempus again. He fell asleep with his glasses on. Wait, didn’t she have hers on too? It only takes a split second to locate them on the side table next to the arm of the couch where Tempus’s head rests. He must have taken them off for her. It’s never comfortable to sleep with them on, after all. She moves to do the same for him, but freezes just before. The scene from earlier plays in her head, so vivid it’s like it’s happening in front of her, and she flinches away to cover her face and claw at her hair.

“BAD bad bad bad—”

It’s a tendency— or perhaps a compulsion, because she can’t always stop herself— when unpleasant memories intrude like this, to hiss something at them in a frantic whisper. To make them go away.

“I’ll do better I’ll do better—!”

It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last. But usually it’s older memories, not fresh ones.

She doesn’t try again to remove his glasses.

As much as she enjoys the thought of cuddling with him, she doesn’t feel totally comfortable with the idea of sharing a sleeping space just yet. She fell asleep on him in her exhausted misery, and she doesn’t blame him for not wanting to leave her alone. He probably didn’t think she would sleep so long, or that he would fall asleep too. But now that she’s awake, the best thing to do would probably be to sleep elsewhere.

…She very much does not want to leave. It’s cold outside, even just to get to where she’s claimed a “room” in the shed. And there’s nowhere else in the house. Well, there’s the floor. The floor would be alright— she can fall asleep just about anywhere, truthfully. But she’ll need another blanket. And maybe a pillow, if she can find one.

Seeker slowly moves to get off the couch without disturbing Tempus. She’s fairly certain she’s successful, too, until she turns and makes to step away.

“Seeker—! Don’t leave,” comes his voice, pleading and scratchy with sleep and tears, as small as she’s ever heard it. “Please.”

She spins with a pang in her heart to see Tempus’s outstretched hand reaching for her, eyes burning hollow periwinkle and already brimming with tears.

“Stars, please, Seeker. Please—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she rushes to reassure, on her knees beside him in an instant with his hand in hers. “Just getting another blanket.”

He blinks at her, seemingly all the way awake now, then laughs bitterly and covers his face with his free hand, knees coming up as he curls. “Blanket.” He sighs, and smiles grimly through what she assumes is embarrassment. “Of course.”

“I’ll… be right back.” She squeezes his hand, then lets it go.

A moment later sees her return with a blanket and pillow. Tempus is sitting upright now, feet on the floor, with his face in his hands and his glasses pushed up to his forehead rather than taken off. Seeker slowly lowers to the couch beside him, pillow and blanket set to the side.

“I’m sorry,” she says, quietly. “I should have… done it differently.”

“You can get a blanket if you really want to,” Tempus mumbles, rubbing his sockets with the heels of his hands. “If that’s what you… But a heads-up woulda— Just, anything not to scare me so bad.”

She swallows. “I just… I don’t know if I could’ve…. still brought myself to get up, if I’d woken you up first.” She wrings her hands. “I would’ve felt awful, because I wanted you to be able to sleep. I thought I could go and get it with you being none the wiser. Okay maybe just… just a little colder for a minute, but then—”

“You really thought I’d be none the wiser!?” Tempus snaps suddenly, turning to look at her. “If you just disappeared!? With no explanation!?”

Seeker flinches away. With his lip curled in a snarl and his eyelights flared, he looks like a wounded animal. But it’s gone in an instant, and the anger gives way to hurt as he looks away again. But it’s done, and she’s retreated from him to the far side of the couch, curled in on herself and holding back tears again.

He’s right. (Because she knows he wasn’t talking about the blanket.) It was selfish. And she hurt him. Of course he’s upset. No matter what he said earlier, it was stupid to think he wouldn’t be, just because she was still here, and alive. He was just putting it aside for her sake. Because of course he’d do that, he’s Tempus. Lord, why was everything he did all for her?

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s a whimper. (‘Stop,’ she begs mentally, ‘my heart is going to break at this rate!’) She blinks back tears as she stares into his wide eyes, no longer flared periwinkle. “Didn’t mean to snap at you,” he rasps in apology, too fast, “y-you’re still…”

Seeker shakes her head and scoots closer. He turns his head away from her once again. “No,” she murmurs, “I should’ve handled it differently. It was— It was selfish.”

“You wanted to help everyone,” he counters, “that’s not selfish.”

“I shouldn’t have just left,” she presses, hoping the remorse is clear in her voice. “I should have talked with you guys.” She pauses. “With you.”

It’s quiet.

It’s quiet for a long time.

The blue darkness feels so big and so small; The whole entire world is somewhere in this dark, and at the same time there’s nothing in existence but this room and this janky green couch and the two of them. The empty fullness of it feels its own sort of alive.

“‘t’s hard to believe you,” Tempus murmurs after a while. After it’s been long enough that Seeker isn’t sure he’s talking about the same thing anymore.

She swallows nervously, afraid of the answer to what she’s about to ask. “That I regret how I handled it…?”

His head is still turned away from her, in the quiet. He doesn’t answer right away. The hesitation is palpable, the held-back energy full of so many reasons for being so. When he finally does answer, his voice shakes, shudders.

“That you love me.”

Seeker feels her heart break right in half.

“A-And I know, it’s not the time—!” Tempus throws a hand up as he continues, voice finally breaking as it all comes pouring out, and it’s so thick with tears and the same distressed smile he keeps forcing. He looks at the ceiling. The next part comes out with a laugh that’s trying very hard not to be a sob. “Ya just lost your family, this— this isn’t gonna be somethin’ you can deal with right now. I get it!”

She reaches toward him, hand hovering over his shoulder as he breaks down.

“But—”

Her hand curls around his arm, and he spins around to face her with an expression that shatters what’s left of her heart.

“—But to leave a-an’ then not even talk to me when I came runnin’! Ya kept your eyes shut every time I tried to getcha to look! And when I finally— When ya did, it—” He swallows a hiccup and shakes his head, looking somehow even more hurt. His eyes are lit again. “You tricked me,” he whispers. “Cuz y’know I can’t see.” He lets that hang in the air for a moment. “A-An’ then, when ya realized ya can’t leave, then,” he laughs, almost incredulously, “then y’tell me ya love me.”

Seeker can barely look at him, but he deserves to be looked in the eye. He shakes his head. “I-I wanna believe you so bad, Seeker, but what’m I s’posed to think?”

It does sound worse, like that. It was a given that he’d be upset, but she hadn’t thought about how confused he must be. How contradictory her actions must seem. And lord, it crushes her to see him hurting like this. She’s overwhelmed, unsure how to proceed, weighed down by her own grief and still processing the fact that she almost died today, on top of all of this with Tempus. She only wanted to reassure him when she told him that she felt the same, earlier, with all he had done for her. But instead all she did was make it worse. Lord, she always makes everything worse, no matter how she tries to make things better.

“I-I—” She’s utterly at a loss, searching his watery eyes with her own damp ones and wanting nothing more than to somehow clarify everything, fix everything, make him feel like he’s hers and she wants him and loves him and it’s real, it’s all real!

Not knowing what else to do, what she could possibly say, she reaches for his hands and intertwines their fingers as she leans closer. “I do,” she insists, urgently. Frantic, almost. “I’m so bad at everything about this and I did a really, really terrible job of showing it, but I do, I do!”

Her heart is in her throat and tears are burning her eyes and the longer she looks at him the more pieces her heart breaks into.

“Everything you do is for me, even though I’m oblivious, even though sometimes I’m crappy to be around, even though I’m so bad at being a good friend, even though you haven’t gotten anything back for it but hurt. I-I thought if I told you how I feel the same way, after everything you did for me today, th-then it would be reassuring that it wasn’t for nothing. But I made it worse!! I’m so sorry, Tempus, I’m sorry for all of it! But I meant it—” She sniffs and drops her head. It’s a small thing, but maybe it will mean something; she brings his knuckles to her lips.

“I do… do love you,” she insists, softly. “I’m bad at it, but I wanna- I wanna prove it.” A sniffle. “I just need… a little time. T-To grieve.”

Tempus sniffs too, and when she looks up he’s still crying but his cheeks are flushed. He nods a couple times before finding his words, between the occasional hiccup.

“That’s fair. ‘M… ‘m sorry, I didn’t want t’… bring all this up. B-But it…”

Seeker shakes her head. “No, you’re hurting too. That should get talked about.” Her fingers tighten around his. “I’m sorry your feelings keep getting put on the back burner.”

“They’re not as im—” He’s cut off by her head whipping up and the intensity in her eyes.

“Don’t say that! It makes me feel awful!” she cries. His mouth clicks shut. Seeker leans in close, one hand untangling from his to hover close to his face as she looks him over with so much heartache. “Everything about you is important. Just as important as anything about anyone else.” She swallows. “And— and more. Important. Than stuff about anyone else. T-To… To me.”

He stares at her in bewilderment, and then his eyes go periwinkle— solid, with white centers this time— as a fresh wave of tears hits. Another hitch in his breathing, and he leans his face into her hovering hand and presses over it with his own hand.

“You have every right to be mad at me,” Seeker murmurs, miserable at the idea despite knowing it’s her own fault. “But don’t think I did any of this because I don’t care. Or- Or because you’re not as important.”

His eyes search hers, and his mouth opens like he wants to say something, but he changes his mind, and as he turns his eyes away, they fade back to just white. Still, he holds her hand to his face, and she thumbs away some stray tears.

“Tempus,” Seeker begins again, her voice still wobbly, and he glances back up. She makes sure she’s looking at him. “I’m sorry I took your glasses. And I’m sorry I threw them. That was…” She gulps. “That was a really shitty thing to do.”

She doesn’t like to swear, but occasionally there really is no other word that fits. This is one of those times. Tempus doesn’t even flinch at hearing it from her.

“…Yeah,” he whispers back, looking down. “It was.”

All the guilt she feels is deserved, she reminds herself. He doesn’t owe her forgiveness, either. And there’s more to apologize for.

“A-And I’m sorry I tricked you.”

His face scrunches up painfully and he almost turns away.

“It’s not an excuse,” she continues, “but in the moment I really did think it was the only way. Doesn’t make it okay, or right, but at- at least know it’s not because I didn’t…”

Didn’t what? Didn’t care about his well-being or safety? Obviously she must not, if she did that! Didn’t want him there? She didn’t, though, or she would’ve told him her plan ahead of time. There wasn’t a single good reason. Everything about that action betrayed a lack of respect. What could she even say?

“L-Like I said, I… should’ve handled the entire thing differently. And I’m sorry. F-For everything it implies.”

“Y’know I can’t see,” he whispers, an echo from earlier. Still doesn’t look at her.

“Y-Yeah.” She won’t try to avoid taking responsibility. Her hand squeezes around his. “It was too far. Way too far.” Seeker’s chest aches and it comes out in her voice. “I will never do anything like that again.” He finally looks back up at her. “You deserve more respect than that. I’m sorry. It doesn’t feel like enough, but I am.”

Silence as he searches her eyes, silence as she hopes he sees her earnestness in her expression, in her tears. Silence as he lowers his gaze and her heart drops with it.

“Promise.” It’s more of a question, a request, than a demand. Spoken so quietly she can barely hear.

“I swear to you.” No hesitation.

He pulls away from her hand on his face but doesn’t let go of it, and instead turns further to face her, leg up on the couch, and drops his head to rest against her shoulder when she turns too. He holds her hand against his face once more. Seeker lets go of his other hand to wrap her arm around his back.

“Okay,” is all he murmurs.

Is it acceptance, or resignation?

She rubs his back, slowly, up and down, tracing over the flattened spines down the middle when she comes to them. His little tail, sticking out from the bottom of his shirt, sways back and forth in time. Rather than say anything more, Seeker closes her eyes and presses her face against the top of his head. She’s so fortunate that after everything, he’s still here. Maybe he won’t want to be, once everything settles. That’s well within his right. But he’s here right now, and he wants to be close despite it all, and for never having acted on their feelings before now, really, holding him feels so natural.

Undoubtedly, he can feel her teardrops on his skull, but he doesn’t say anything. Seeker reflects on the irony of the whole situation: in a bid to save everything, she lost almost all of it. No more family. No way home. Maybe she could have coped with those facts better if she’d known sooner, and had her skeleton friends’ support. But instead it went like this, and she betrayed all of them, almost lost her life, almost lost Tempus— might still lose Tempus.

But he’s here for now. And she deserves whatever he decides to do, but right now, she just wants him to know, more than anything, that while her well-intentioned attempts to do the right thing were very misguided, while she was (and still is, even) prepared to give up who she cares about for the greater good—

“I love you.”

Said right against his skull, like she could somehow whisper it into his very being. She feels his fingers curl in the back of her shirt.

“I don't think… I could be very good to you. Right now. But if…” She swallows. This a lot to ask. She can hardly so much as whisper it. “If you'd wait… I’ll get better.”

Silence.

“J-Just think about it.”

He must be exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, physically. She feels his weight begin to sag against her– and while not especially so, he's heavier than she had once thought a skeleton would be. Maybe, maybe she can make an exception to her sleeping rule. These are extenuating circumstances.

“C’mere.”

With the pillow and blanket from earlier behind her, she shifts them around with one hand and holds Tempus close with the other. When it's sorted out, she leans back and pulls him with her. He doesn't fight it, instead adjusting himself as they move to better fit around her. Hesitantly, he finally removes his glasses, and reaches to set them on the arm of the couch behind her. It all ends with him half on his side, half on his stomach; half on her and half beside her. But the important thing is that his head is tucked under hers, and his arms are around her, and hers are around him. She pulls the blankets up over them.

One last little sniffle, and she squeezes him gently. “Get some sleep, Tem.”

He hums some sound at the nickname, but whether it's in approval or not, Seeker can't tell. In either case, he turns his face into her shoulder. She rests a hand on the back of his skull.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[sutherkins]

for the peter sutherland girlies 💌

people had always judged him. it came with having a father who was branded a traitor. he didn’t even care when people talked about him, but now the conspiracy nuts were targeting you. a completely innocent person, all because you had chosen to associate with him. he didn’t understand it, didn’t think he ever would. and to make it worse, you wouldn’t even let him defend you.

if you were being honest you didn’t really mind the rumors. at least, not the ones about you. the things people said about you bore no comparison to the horrible lies they spread about peter simply because of who his father was.

“why won’t you let me defend you?” peter asks one night when they’re in bed, some random show on the history channel playing in the background.

you sigh. “puppy, the things those people say about me are even close to as bad as the things people say about you.” shifting in bed slightly closer to him and taking his hand in yours. “besides, as stupid as it is, you have to keep your head down a little. if not for yourself then at least for me. you’ve worked so hard to get where you are and i don’t want some idiots on a the internet to ruin that.”

peter squeezes your hand and remains calm even though a fire was brewing inside when he thought of the things those people said about you. “you see the things they say about you, right?”

a moment passes. “yes.”

“the things they say about you aren’t just nothing. i can barely make it reading through a couple without wanting to punch someone. not that i go looking for them or anything, it’s just frustrating. at least the people talking about me have a story to run with about the son of a traitor. you haven’t done anything wrong. how do you deal with it? that kind of hate, specifically?”

you mute the tv now, being able to tell this was going to be a longer conversation than you anticipated. “you mean the misogyny?”

peter nods.

“i don’t know if what i do is dealing with it, really. none of the things they say are true. about you or me. i know who i am and i know who you are, too. of course it hurts that lies are being spread about me just because of who i love, and it hurts that there are people out there with so much hate in their heart that they feel the need to take it out on me. and on you. but they’re wrong. that’s enough for me.”

a couple seconds pass before you speak again, “i’ll still defend you from stupid trolls online though.”

“so you can do it but i can’t?” he smiles.

you love his smile and wished it was a permanent fixture on his face. “pretty much, bub. i know you don’t like talking about it too much but, you deserve it.”

“and you don’t?”

narrowing your eyes at him, you tell him, “that’s not what i’m saying, you dork. im saying you deserve to have someone looking out for you. i already have someone to look out for me no matter what. you’ve been doing it since we met.”

peters eyes haven’t moved from yours, and they’re full of love for you. “it’s weird.”

you tilt your head. “what is?”

“having someone look out for me. i haven’t had someone do that for me in a while. even when i was with zoe.” he meant it. you were always supportive of him and it never wavered, even when he told you who his father was. when he needed someone to lean on, he always knew you’d be there with open arms.

you smiled softly, your hand reaching up to touch his face. “i kinda figured. it’s not that i don’t want or appreciate your support, i promise. you give so much to me without even thinking about it and i wanted and still want to do the same for you. you’re a good man, peter. the best man i’ve ever known. it kills me knowing what you’ve been through and that no one even bothered to support you afterwards.”

a couple minutes pass, his eyes closed and your palm resting on his cheek. peter savors this moment of peace and unconditional love that he hasn’t known in a long time. soon his left hand was moving towards yours, gently grabbing it and giving it a short kiss. “i love you. you know that, right?”

“i do.” you lean forward to kiss his forehead, feeling the tension leave his body from just your touch. “you know i love you too, right? i know you sometimes have a hard time accepting it because it’s not what you’re used to, but i love you with everything i’ve got. nothing’ll ever change that and i mean it. you’re kinda stuck with me.”

peter lets out a small chuckle, bringing you close to press a chaste kiss onto your lips. “i know. i may not always understand it, but i know.”

[talesfromlissom]

ROTTMNT FAM + Mute Reader

Fandom: ROTTMNT

Rating: T

Characters: Hamato Fam

TW: none

Rules

Ask Box

Request: [Anon] could you do ROTTMNT headcanons for the bros (separately and maybe + april) x a mute reader? :) thanks!

Notes - When you said mute, I assumed that you meant completely mute and not selective mutism, etc. So I wrote the reader as such. This can also be read as either platonic or romantic :)

 Raph 

 » He knows ASL. Not as well as Donnie but still. 

 » He’s completely fine with it actually, he’s a pretty strong believer in ‘actions speak louder than words’, this applies to everyone however. He thinks it's more significant for you however, as you can’t really talk. 

 » If you write everything down instead of using ASL, he’s fine with that too. Just hope that he can read your handwriting. 

  »  He mainly communicates with you via text messages. It was actually his suggestion, mainly because sometimes you’d sign too fast and he wouldn’t understand what you were saying. 

Leo

  » “Say nothing if I can eat the rest of your chips” type of mf. 

  » The teasing is absolutely non stop, it’s all in good conscience of course. If it genuinely makes you uncomfortable then you can tell him to stop. Which he’ll do. 

  » He absolutely uses text messages to communicate with you, he knows ASL but he can’t remember it all the time. 

  »  Writing things down works as well, he can read almost anyone’s handwriting. So if this is easier for you then he’s all for it. You just have to remember to tell him you want to say something. 

Donnie

  » ASL KING!!! FR!!

  » This man is extremely fluent in ASL. You’d actually have to learn ‘mutant turtle teen ASL’, in order to understand him more. You’d do it just for fun, and for when he becomes nonverbal. 

  » He actually didn’t want you to text him at first, he enjoyed using his brain in order to translate what you were saying to him in ASL 

  » Probably the best person to have an in person conversation with, as he knows ASL by heart. 

Mikey

  » Similar to Leo, he can’t really remember a lot of ASL. But unlike Leo, he actually tries to learn it continuously. Due to him forgetting it alot, he can understand basic phrases like ‘I want…’ or ‘I need…’ or ‘I like/dislike…’

  » He buys steals a book on ASL, and keeps it close to his night stand. At first he shoved it under his pillow, but now it remains open on his desk at all times. 

  » At one point, he actually began to draw the different symbols in his sketchbook. A good few pages were just drawings of ASL symbols. He also used it to practice hands. 

  » Overall? 8/10. He makes an effort, but if you’d prefer another form of communication he’d be fine with it. He still learns ASL however. Just in case. 

April 

  » Doesn’t know jack shit about ASL. Only knows Turtle ASL. 

  » But she’ll learn. She’ll borrow a book from a library or she’ll buy one on her own. 

  » She actually studies this book harder than the books for her actual classes. 

  » But she loves texting you. To her, everything you say is important, to a stupid quip comparing your teacher to a garbage can, to something related to what you’re doing. She never has her notifications silenced when it comes to you. Even if it means taking her phone away. 

[little-lily-w]

Surgery part 6

<<Part 5                            Try some Surgery II>>

A/N: this is the last part and I still don’t know what I’m doing.

It helped calm the ache but his proximity made you feel uncomfortable, or better say, in tension. You couldn’t really tell if you wanted more of the analgetic effect or if you wanted him at least 10 meters away.

“There’s no answer”, you let out as bravely as you could when he locked eyes with yours. “You are just looking to amuse yourself at my expense and I won’t give you the pleasure. Do the rest of the cuts. I won’t talk to you anymore. There’ll be no more answers”.

“Alright. Avoidance stage came quite quick”, he commented, tilting your chin up again. “But there’ll also be no more questions”.

What did that mean? You felt the blade finally sliding down the other side of your throat and you bit your lip in response, putting up with the pain as best as you could for him not to register your whining. The anger was giving space for the pride to appear but this one set your own trap because now it meant that you’d have to endure the rest of the process not begging for mercy (which you clearly needed).

Chishiya was relieved although you didn’t notice it. Two of the most dangerous cuts were done and they didn’t really look like they’d need stitches nor did they harm your vocal chords which, even after your little proud silence statement, he took care of preserving.

Then he moved away, scanning the stains of red along your body as he circled the stretcher to stop right in between both cuffs. You looked up but quickly turned your gaze to the roof once you realized you were only capable of seeing his beach pants from that position. Once you felt his hands working to free one of your wrists, you furrowed your brows. Of course. He still trapped your joint against the stretcher with his own grip and you did a pulling motion knowing you wouldn’t escape his fingers but wanting to frustrate the little fucker.

Unluckily for you, he wasn’t having it.

“You know, it’s a pity you chose to remain mute. It’d have been good for you to choose at which part of your wrists you prefer the cuts in case you wanted to hide them with a bracelet or a band but I wouldn’t waste my time asking what’s going to get no answer”.

Fucking jerk. Just ignore him. He is just looking for a reaction.

The cut was again clean and shallow enough not to catch a vein but it was still excruciating. The amount of pain and discomfort your body was in by now started to make you dizzy so much so that he didn’t restrain your wrist back again and you didn’t think of getting advantage to put up another fight. The feeling of exhaustion took over pretty quick and now you weren’t sure if you didn’t talk because of your own decision or if it was too much to ask for. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and drift away, maybe even dream that you were in another place, in another world, back to the one you knew. But Chishiya didn’t let you have your moment because as soon as your eyelids started to feel heavy enough to drop, he was cutting your other wrist.

“Son of a bitch”, you mumbled, a tiny squeal going past your lips. You couldn’t scream anymore.

“I’m not sure of what that was”, he taunted you but the game voice got in the way.

“Congratulations. Both players win”.

And with the click of the bracelets being opened, you finally fainted.

By the time you recovered your consciousness, everything felt bright again even over your closed eyelids. Please, no, not another game. You almost let out a sob if it weren’t for the fact that you were still too tired to make your muscles work for any kind of lament. But your state of denial keeping you blind didn’t last long. As soon as you turned your head to the side, the brushing of some fabric against the side of your throat made you hiss in pain, forcing you to open your eyes. You looked around the place, blinking as you rubbed your face to understand where you were. For a brief second, relief came to your chest when you realized it was your own room till you followed the wall opposite your bed and you found the image of Chishiya standing against the furniture with his hands behind his back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”, you let out, bothered and confused. The slight comfort of the pillow started to feel like a brick. He tilted his head to the side, not speaking. “No, go away, just leave me the fuck alone”, you protested, pulling the sheets up so they covered your head, and curling onto your side despite the pain of the bruises, especially the ones getting friction in between your thighs.

After a minute, you felt some items being dropped on the mattress next to you. You moved the sheet slightly till it landed on the bridge of your nose to spy what they were. A little plastic box and a bottle of alcohol.

“So caring. Thank you”, you said sarcastically before covering your head back again. But you could still feel his presence watching you, now resting against the side wall. “What?”, you huffed pushing the sheet away with violence so it ended as a ball at your ankles. Only then you noticed your wrists being wrapped with what used to be your top, stains of red covering the fabric as well as the bikini you wore which you mindlessly displayed to him once again within the fuss. “I’ll do it myself. Now leave”, you said, hoping it was enough for him to at least say something and stop being so damn intimidating and exasperating at the same time. You wondered if you should cover yourself again but that would have been too obvious. He looked down at the box. “Chishiya, for fuck’s sake!”, you exclaimed, seating abruptly on the mattress which actually made your head spin around. “I-I can do it myself!”

You knew he didn’t believe in your ability and that he didn’t seem to plan on leaving before you proved him wrong. “It’s not that hard”, you continued, opening the box and slamming it’s cover onto the bed. Bandages, cotton balls and hypoallergenic tape. The color white taking your memory back to the fluorescent lights, threatening to create a migraine. You huffed again, looking into his eyes so he watched you do the job and you could erase the gaze of arrogance off of his stupid face. You pulled from one of the improvised bandages you had on your wrists, clearly regretting it once you felt the burning at the sudden motion but you weren’t going to whimper in case you favored his attitude. So you bit your own tongue to refrain from making any sound and the same move was used to try and stop you from screaming once, in a similar violent motion, you opened the bottle just to throw a squirt of alcohol over the cut. You failed miserably, gasping in pain and lowering your gaze to focus on your wrist instead. But still not wanting to give him the satisfaction, you grabbed one of the packages of sterile bandages and ripped it open with your teeth. You put the bandage along the cut, struggling to properly position it with one hand and same frustration attacked the pit of your stomach when cutting a piece of the tape and trying to place it rightly across the bandage. As you began to puff and blow, Chishiya seemed to finally had enough and he circled the bed to sit next to you. Gently, he took your hand and brought it to his knee, palm up to remove the mess you did and throw it aside. He grabbed a cotton ball and soaked it up with alcohol, carefully touching your skin with it. The pain made you tense your forearm, increasing your frustration.

“You expect me to thank you for this?”, you spat your question at him, now you the one trying to get a reaction when he decided to play the mute game as well. Chishiya opened a new pack of bandages and placed one of them correctly on your joint, using then the tape to secure it. “Oh, no, I know, this makes you feel superior once again. How could I not realize?”

Chishiya was grabbing the wet cotton ball to continue but he stopped at your words to look directly into your eyes. You swallow hard. You were free in comparison with your situation back on the stretcher but somehow his proximity in your own bed made you feel entirely trapped or worse, like a bee enticed by pollen.

“I am not expecting anything nor do I feel any particular kind of way”, he removed the other fabric on your wrist, repeating the cleaning process till you were nice and patched up. Then he moved your hair gently out of your neck, almost as if the weight of his fingers was non existent but you still found yourself holding air in not to lean into his touch. Dizzy. Everything was so dizzy and hot. It was like a fever ascending from your toes to the back of your throat, same throat he was now taking care of healing. “I came here because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less”.

This time your eyes wandered nervously around his face. You had never paid close attention to the delicate light brown spot under his eye before and if you looked close enough, you could swear he still had the ghost mark of a dimple even when he wasn’t smirking. “A-and…”, you stuttered but he didn’t smile teasingly as you expected. “Why did you… want to?”

He placed the new bandages on the sides of your neck safely secured with tape, arching his brows just like a comment to himself. “I’ll answer that when you give me the answer you owe me. Up until then, enjoy your visa extension”, he slid his fingers down, barely brushing one of the still untreated cuts on the upper part of your breasts, before standing up and exiting through the door.  

[not7wu]

Chapter Eight:  A Trusted Friend

Recap: You accidentally eavesdrop on an argument the boys are having about you. Seems there's much more they're keeping from you than you realized and they're actively keeping you in the dark. Betrayal fresh on your mind, you become friends with Hybe janitor, Jihoon. He agrees to look for info on Kim Cho-hee and you will fund his search for his half-sister. Your scheduled wallowing is interrupted by Jin who ends up telling you his love story.

A warm cloud of fresh cooked rice and something aromatic wakes you.  Patting the space next to you, you crack your eyes open.  Jin is no longer beside you, which is probably for the best.  There’s something about the night that makes you brave, but the light of day is much too jarring and exposing.  He has an early schedule today, so you don’t know which of the members are invading your space.  ‘Invading’.  It remains to be seen whether that’s a harsh or apt word, but you had been hoping to have some time for yourself until dinner with Jungkook.  You’re not ready to face anyone so early in the morning before you have time to mentally armor yourself.

You don’t know what time it is, but you sit up and stretch.  It must be well into the morning because the muted sunlight glows through the window shades.  Dishes clink as you approach the living area and you find Hobi setting cutlery next to breakfast for two on the coffee table.  He catches sight of you and laughs at your yawn.  

You don’t want to read too much into this breakfast, but you can’t help feeling Hobi is here with an agenda.  You wish you could relax and soak in the peaceful morning, but your guard is up, waiting for whatever misdirection may come your way now knowing that Hobi is the number one instigator of keeping you in the dark.  

“Come eat.  We had leftover Samgyetang, so I thought if your headache is still bothering you, you might like some.”  He gestures for you to approach, so you sit cross-legged across from him.

“Thank you for the meal,” you say with the best smile you can muster, and the both of you dig in.  

Out of all the members, Hobi’s guard is up against you with his ability to read through your machinations.  All the other members take you at face value for the most part, but he’ll be the one you can fool the least.  If you had known it would come to this, you wouldn’t have flouted your verbal talents to Hobi that first day with Namjoon.  You prepare for battle with a deep breath and place a piece of chicken in Hobi’s bowl of rice.  

“So what’s up?  I didn’t expect to see you today with your schedule.”  

“I just wanted to check in cuz’ it seemed like you’ve been off lately.  We never did get to have that slumber party.”

Your nerves spike because it feels like he’s fishing.  “I did tell you guys that I was already exhausted.  Maybe we can try again soon?”

“That’s right.  You mentioned you had lunch with Jieun-noona and a friend?  How’d that go by the way?”  

Hobi completely skips over your question and you’re alarmed at the sudden change in topic.  Does he know about Jihoon?  You don’t want to reveal your only outside ally.  

“Lunch was good.  I got plenty of rest,” you say vaguely.  “Actually, I feel like I should apologize to Areum-unnie about rescheduling dinner, but I don’t have her number.  That’s strange though because she mentioned I should have it.  Could I get her number from you?  You talked to her, right?”

Even though this back and forth has you dancing on your toes, you carefully observe Hobi as he eats.  He looks unbothered, savoring his food and placing bites he thinks you’ll like in your bowl.  He wipes his mouth in thought.

“I don’t know her number off the top of my head, so I’ll text it to you later.”

“Sure.  I know how busy you are.  Thank you, Hobi-oppa.”

“You’ve been busy too,” he notes almost too casually.

“Not so much.”  Where is he going with this?

“Well, you were so exhausted Thursday that you passed out.  We were worried when you didn’t show up, you know.  I was talking with the others and you don’t have to work.  You’ve got plenty of savings.”  

And there it is.  You thought you could avoid the topic of your ‘house arrest’ until Monday with Bang PD-nim.  You try not to let your annoyance eek out.

“I actually don’t know what I have in savings.  No one’s given me any sort of banking information.  Would you happen to know how I can check that out?”

Hobi drops a chopstick in his bowl, but he quickly picks it up.  Interesting.  That was a total shot in the dark and now a point of interest for you.  He resumes eating.  “We’re the POAs of your finances until your health issue is resolved.”

“All of you guys are my POAs?”  Look at that.  Something else that smells fishy.  

Hobi again completely disregards your question.  “Anyway, we’ve got you covered financially.  I think we’d all feel better if you took a break and just looked after yourself.”

“All of you already do so much for me.  I couldn’t possibly rely on your charity.  And I am looking after myself.  You guys keep your money and I’ll keep working.”

“We’ve seriously got so much money, we don’t know what to do with it.”

“Donate it,” you suggest, trying not to snap at him.  

The tension is now noticeable.  You wanna thud your head on the table.  So much for staying pleasant.  This whole conversation has gone completely off the rails.

“Y/N.  You okay?”  Hobi is giving you his full attention, pushing his food away.  Great.

“I’m fine,” you try to sound convincing.  You take a deep breath and look him in the eye, searching within yourself for some lingering affection you have for him and the members.  And the thing is, even with this sense of betrayal that has gutted you, you don’t have to look far for that affection.  It’s still right there.  It isn’t even really tangible.  This love you have for Hobi is as easy as breathing, only now it’s accompanied with a deep sadness.  

It’s too early in the day and too suspect to be so sappy.  Instead, you transform some of this tension into innocent brattiness and channel your inner maknae wiles on him.  

“I really wanna work, Hobi-oppa.  If I don’t have anything to do, I swear I’ll go stir crazy, and going to work makes me feel normal.  I really wanna feel normal.”

Everything you say is true, but you exaggerate your puppy eyes and pout.  Manipulative?  Yes.  Necessary?  Also, yes.  Hobi groans and tries not to look at you head on.  

“Stop it.  You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Please, please, please, oppa.  I promise I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

He makes the mistake of side eyeing you, but that doesn’t diminish the power of your pout.  Exasperated, he sighs, “Fine.  You win.  I’m just worried.”

You are ecstatic and do a little wiggle dance earning you a reluctant laugh from Hobi.  You can’t help sassing, “I appreciate you worrying, but I’m 25.  I’m a whole ass adult.  You know in some countries, I’d already be married with a baby at this age, or be considered an old maid.”

Hobi chokes on his rice and coughs up a lung.  “Geezus, Y/N.  Okay, I get it.  I’ll stop bothering you about work.”

“Sweet!” you celebrate with a cheeky grin.  You just won against Jung Hoseok and you feel invincible.  Today is gonna be a good day.  “You spending the rest of the day with me?”

“Unfortunately, I have a meeting with Pdogg-hyung, Yoongi-hyung, Joonie and the A&R team which will take up most of the afternoon before the magazine shoot.  We won’t be back before midnight, so don’t wait up for us.”

Happy with your win, you nod agreeably, suddenly famished.  The ginseng in the samgyetang is bitter, but the tart dried jujubes cut through it with a subtle sweetness.  You almost don’t hear Hobi when he continues, “Jin-hyung might even be later than midnight, so if you need a cuddle buddy, Tae or Jimin will be your best bet if they don’t both decide to smother you.”

You barely save yourself from sputtering on the broth.  Of course, Hobi knows all about your Jin sleepovers, and after what you heard the other night, he definitely isn’t a fan of your night time activities with Jin, no matter how innocent they are.

 “Sounds good,” you say neutrally.  You can’t tell if this is some sort of underhanded warning to back off or what, but you should have expected there to be more to this breakfast.  You live and learn.  Always keep your guard up around Hobi.  

—

Jungkook is a bottomless pit.  He made eight gimbap rolls that the both of you are eating burrito style and he’s already eaten three of them while you’re still working on your first.  You don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified, so you settle on being content that he’s eating well.  

You’re on a night time picnic complete with picnic blanket, picnic basket, and a curated playlist playing from a portable speaker.  You don’t need to put a show on for Jungkook.  The conversation has been easy from tattoo designs Jungkook wants to get in the near future to new artists you’ve found on SoundCloud that he might enjoy.    

You hear a ding and dig for your phone in your mini-backpack.  It’s the disposable phone you bought earlier in the day.  It’s a different model from your phone but with a similar body and phone case that you hope will fool anyone who doesn't look too closely.  Hobi going through your phone now has you wary of people snooping.  This particular phone only has one number.

Snacks: I’ve got something for you.  I think you’ll wanna see it right away, but I can put it in your desk at work if you prefer. Me: I’m actually out right now by the Namsan Outdoor Botanical Gardens.  Quick handoff? Snacks: I’ll meet you at the public restrooms in an hour. Me: Sounds good.  Thank you so much! Snacks: No need to thank me.  We’re friends.  See you soon!

“Noona?”  

You fumble with your phone and turn your attention back to Jungkook.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, Jungkookie.  I thought it might be an emergency because I don’t usually get texts.”

“Did something happen?” Jungkook asks, worriedly.

“No.  It was nothing.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but easily shrugs it off, throwing himself back to lie starfished.  You follow his example, the both of you stuffed.  The light pollution prevents you from seeing stars, but the moon hangs above you.  It’s the same moon you’ve always known, but you can’t help wondering if it’s new and different.  Has that dark spot always been there?  Is it bigger than you remembered?  You turn to look at Jungkook.  His bucket hat and face mask cover ninety percent of his face, but his eyes in shadow still glow.

“Hey,” you say.  

“Hmm?”

“Are you happy, Jungkookie?”

He doesn’t say anything.  A soft breeze wafts over you both.  The grass ripples in the wind, tickling your ankles.  What a beautiful night.

“I’m happy,” Jungkook finally says to the sky.  “But most of the time, I feel nothing.  I’m happy with the hyungs and with noona.  I love my job.  And I receive so much love.  But yeah.  Most of the time, it’s just nothing.”

You can’t help but ask, “Are you depressed?”

He shakes his head.  “No, I don't think I’m depressed.  I think it’s like…apathy for survival?  I’m pretty sure the hyungs are like that too, especially Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung.  And Jin-hyung sometimes…I think it’s because we have like really high highs, adrenaline rushes from performances and things like that, that the rest of the time it’s like an energy crash and we go through this numb thing dealing with work stress…privacy invasions…and just pressure in general, and it just takes a while for us to find a normal rhythm again.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, but mostly you’re proud of Jungkook.  It sounds like he’s put a lot of thought into this.

“Do you feel happy, noona?”  You owe it to Jungkook to be as honest with him as he has been with you, but you’re not sure how you want to answer that with how uncertain everything is.  You must take a while to answer, because Jungkook gently nudges you and says, “Let’s close our eyes.”

So, you close your eyes.  If you concentrate enough, you think you can see electrons track across your eyelids like old television snow inverted in black.  An optical white noise.

It’s weirdly soothing, and you find yourself confessing, “I don’t think I am happy, but I’m trying to be.  I don’t feel..real?  So what if my feelings aren’t real?  It’s just…hard to trust right now.”

“Trust what?” he asks tentatively.

You bite your lip, thinking maybe you’ve already said too much.  “Would you be upset if I said everything?”  

He blows out a rush of air.  “Lemme think for a minute.”

MAX’s ‘Lights Down Low’ is playing in the background.  Conversations and laughter can be heard at some distances with other park goers spaced out on the lawn.  And you swear you can hear the gears grinding in Jungkook’s brain as he reviews film strips in his head.  

“I’m not upset,” he finally says.  “Just sad.”

“Yeah.  I’m sad too.”

“Open your eyes, noona.”  You’re met with Jungkook’s smile.  “At least we’re friends forever, so it’s not all sad.”

You head down to the dance studio to eat lunch, Said the Sky’s ‘Rush Over Me’ playing on your headphones.  You’ve met all the members now and they’ve all reassured you that you wouldn’t be a distraction if you came down for some quiet time every now and then.  Well, it’s not ever quiet when the boys are there, but it’s a nice breather for you because none of them ever force you to drain your social battery by interacting with them.  You usually just sit in a corner with your headphones on and eat lunch while catching up on whatever book you’re reading.  Sungdeuk has even begun dubbing your corner ‘Y/N’s Reading Nook’ and the boys make sure to always leave it clear of clutter even though the dance studio sometimes doubles as a storage closet.  

Today, you’re surprised to see only Jungkook sitting against the mirror.  You wave at him, but he ducks down shyly, completely missing your greeting.  No matter.  You nestle into your corner and unwrap your triangle gimbap.  It always feels rude to be eating in front of the boys, but it’s not like you usually have enough to share.  Since it’s just Jungkook today, you place one of your unopened gimbap next to his foot since he seems distracted on his phone.  You retreat to your corner again,  happily munching your gimbap and open your book.  Your concentration is shot though because this song is a bop: ‘So, rush over me one more time, I will miss you.  Torn apart after tonight.  And we can’t fix it.”

Whoops.  You don’t mean to sing along out loud, but some songs just do that to you.  You glance at Jungkook, hoping he didn’t hear anything, but one look has you dropping your book and ripping your headphones off.  

“Jungkook?  What happened?  Did you hurt yourself?”  Jungkook is crying and you honestly don’t know what to do.  “What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”  

He hides his face in his sweater paws as you crouch near him.  

It’s been a few months, but you’ve slowly been integrated into the lives of seven chaotic men.  Your schedules are all over the place though, so each friendship is at different stages.  You’re already deep in with Tae and Jimin; the both of them are always quick to include you in every plan, bamboozle, and hoodwink.  You have more in common with Yoongi and Hobi’s personality, but don’t need to maintain constant conversation with them.  Namjoon has such a wide range of knowledge that he’s easy to converse with, but you’re not sure how well you actually know him as a person.  Jin has been pretty elusive, not that you’ve put in much effort.  Plus, your first interaction was a little rocky so you’re still wary of him.  As for Jungkook, he gets quiet around you, so you tend to do your best to give him space in case you make him uncomfortable.  That’s why you’re so out of your depth when it comes to a crying Jungkook.

“Jungkook, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.  Should I call Tae?”

“No!”  He grabs your sleeve, halting you from retrieving your phone.

“Do I need to get Sungdeuk-oppa?”

Jungkook wipes his tears and shakes his head.  He mumbles, “I’m not injured.”

“So then, what’s going on?”

“It—It’s stupid.”  You’re at a complete loss.  He refuses to look at you, and you feel compelled to hug him, something you don’t often initiate, but you’re not sure if you’re quite there yet with Jungkook.  

“I’m sure it’s not stupid.  Tell noona what’s wrong.”  You scoot back from where Jungkook is sitting to give him some space, but his grip on your sleeve has you falling on your butt with an oomph.  He drops your hand when he realizes what he’s done.  You want to sigh at this shy cutie, but don’t dare make any sound in fear that he’ll interpret it as condescending or pity or something worse.  “How about this?  I’ll close my eyes so no one can perceive you and you tell noona what’s wrong.  Afterwards, you can decide if you want to pretend this never happened, or you might even decide that this isn’t as bad as you think it is.  Either way, this will be a secret between you and me.  Just…give yourself a minute to think about what you want to say, okay?”

You close your eyes and patiently wait for Jungkook to say something, anything.  Jungkook is the youngest of all the members at 17 years old.  His energy is everywhere.  He can give Tae a run for his money when it comes to hyper mischief.  You do worry about Jungkook though because you’ve noticed that the pendulum can swing far in the opposite direction.  When he’s subdued, he makes himself very small like he’s trying to be invisible.  You understand the occasional desire to be invisible, so that’s how you came up with the idea to close your eyes.  Maybe if no one is looking, he won’t make himself small.  

“Do you like me, noona?”

The question almost makes you open your eyes.  “Of course, I like you, Jungkook.  Do you think that I don’t?”

“Well, I tried to say hi just now, but you ignored me.  You gave me food, and I tried to say thank you, but you ignored me again.  And then you sang and I realized you had headphones on and I got embarrassed, and now I feel stupid.  But sometimes I feel like you don’t like me.”

“I’m so sorry.  I do like you, Jungkookie.  I did try to wave hello to you before, but you didn’t see it.”

“Oh,” Jungkook sniffles.  “But I’m awkward and I don’t know how to talk to you, so I thought that’s probably why you don’t want to be friends with me.  You’re friends with all the hyungs, but not me.”

Your heart hurts that he would think this.  “Jungkook, can I open my eyes?”

You hear a muffled noise and take it for consent.  Jungkook is hugging his legs and hiding his face behind his knees, his big, wet eyes watching you cautiously.  

“Jungkook.  Did Tae tell you how we became friends?”

“Um, he said he kidnapped you from the hospital nursery and raised you like a pet monster under his bed, but that didn’t make any sense cuz’ you’re older than him.”

You sputter suddenly blinded by outrage.  “Oh my god, that’s what Tae said?!  What a no good rat monkey!  I’m gonna pummel that punk next time I see him!  What the hell!  And that’s the only reason why it doesn’t make sense to you?!  Really, Jungkookie?  You really think Tae could kidnap and hide a baby from eomma and appa Kim and they wouldn't know something is afoot?  Plus, do you really trust that lunatic to raise a baby by himself?  I really would be a monster.  Maknae, are you telling me I’m a monster?  Why are you giggling?  You think this is funny?  I’ll show you what’s funny!”

You attack Jungkook with tickles even though he’s already giggling, but now he gasps for air trying to pry you off him.  

“This is what you get for thinking any of that was true, you brat.  You’re lucky you’re so cute, otherwise I’d headlock you and give you a knuckle sandwich.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, noona!  I’m sorry!” he giggles.  

“I’ll stop if you bow and give me an apology.”

“Okay!  I promise I will!”  Laughing, you release him.  He promptly smacks to the floor in a dramatic floor bow.  “I’m sorry, noona.  Please don’t become the monster under my bed.”

“Why you little–” You attack him again, even though you get a kick to the shin and an elbow to the gut.  You’d much rather get injured for his giggles than be whole with his sadness and doubt.

You both end up starfished on the floor breathing hard and grinning at each other.  You lace your fingers in his.  You have no doubt it’s okay because it feels like you’ve you’re finally there with Jungkook.  “Thank you for trusting me with your feelings, Jungkook.  Can I tell you some of my feelings?”

You sit up and pull him to sit up too.  His head tilts curiously.  You don’t let go of his hand though.  You squeeze it, apprehensive about laying yourself bare.

“I don’t have any family.  I don’t have an eomma or appa or dongsaengs.  I’m–”  The word sticks to your teeth like taffy.  “I’m an orphan.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow even bigger, which you didn’t think was possible.  He squeezes your hand.

“So, Tae is kinda right I guess.  He’s my best friend.  My only family.  And I’m not a monster under the bed, but sometimes I think I’m like an alien that he’s had to teach how to be human.  I’m still getting used to hugs and cuddles, and sometimes I freeze up until I remember what I’m supposed to do and remember that hugs are okay.  So, maybe sometimes you’re awkward, but I’m more awkward than you.  Just like with hugs, sometimes I don’t know how to talk to people or what I’m supposed to do around people, so I just sort of keep to myself because I’m afraid of making people uncomfortable, especially around people I don’t know very well yet, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.  I haven’t been avoiding you.  I’m trying to wait until you’re comfortable with me in your space.  And if you need time to get comfortable around people, it’s not your fault either.  I think of you as a new friend, but it’s not a competition.  We don’t need to rush anything.  We can become friends however we want.”

Jungkook is looking straight at you now a little more confidently.  “Thank you for trusting me with your feelings, noona,” he says, testing the words on his tongue.  

That’s another thing you’ve noticed, how he mimics and tries on his hyungs’ personalities, mixing, matching, and choosing the styles he wants to dress his personality in.  You feel honored that he’s trying a bit of yours.  

You’re still surprised when he asks,“Can I hug you?”

“Anytime you want,” you say sincerely.  You pull him into a hug and he nestles like a bug in your arms.  “Friends?”

“Friends.”  

You sit back and beam.  “So, now that we’re friends, do you wanna hear about the time Tae got his feet stuck in some high heels and had to walk to my convenience store so I could cut him out of them?”

“If you tell me that story, I’ll tell you about the time the water stopped in the middle of Tae’s shower and he rinsed his head in the toilet because we were running late,” he offers, eagerly.  

“Deal.  Also, I’ve been getting weird anonymous emails at work and I think it’s Tae pranking me.”

“We could prank him back.  I know how to embed video links into pdfs.”  Jungkook’s innocent face suddenly lights with an evil that only the youngest can exude and you absolutely love it and him.  

“I think we’ll be friends forever, Jungkookie.”  

“Yeah,” you laugh.  “At least we’re friends forever.”

Jungkook looks back at the sky and starts singing along to whatever’s playing on his speaker.  You still see that shy seventeen year old sometimes, but Jungkook has grown so much in the past four years.  He’s less apologetic and more present in the moment, bold and spirited.  You wish you could have been there for the metamorphosis.

Your phone lights up in your periphery and it’s like you’ve been splashed with cold water.

“Jungkookie, I’m gonna run to the restroom,” you say, scrambling up.

Jungkook makes to get up, his face one of worry and confusion.  “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no.  I’ll be quick.  Be right back.”  You make a dash for it before Jungkook can say anything.  

It’s a bit of a trek to the public restrooms.  You and Jungkook had ventured deep into the park to find a flat patch of grass that didn’t have a ton of traffic to avoid Jungkook being recognized.  He had only brought three plainclothes guards instead of his usual team of six because he wasn’t going to be in the actual public and the park is relatively empty at this time of night.  You actually forgot about his guards until just this moment and you hope you’ve given yourself enough of a head start if one of them decides to follow you.  You think you’re in the clear though since Jungkook should be their priority.  

The restroom area is well lit, but you’re still startled when someone grabs you and pulls you behind the small building.  You find yourself in a little pocket blocked by trees and bushes with Jihoon.  He’s dressed casually in a blue hoodie and white washed jeans.  His hair is actually styled in artful messy waves that compliment his monolid eyes.  You catch yourself staring a bit, finding it strange to see him in anything but his uniform.  

“Holy shit, Jihoon.  You scared me,” you say, trying to calm your heart for more than one reason. 

Jihoon smiles sheepishly.  “Sorry.  I didn’t know if you were with one of the members.”

“It’s okay.  I’m with Jungkookie, so we have to make this quick.  What’d you find?”

He hands you a USB drive.  You try not to think about how soft his palm is against your fingertips when you take the drive from his hand.  “This is what I could find on Kim Chohee so far.  There should be a lot on there.”

The USB drive should feel heavier than it does in your hand with all its secrets.  Instead, it feels fragile like it could shatter into a million pieces should you drop it.  You immediately stow it in your pocket.  Jihoon’s mouth quirks in amusement.  

“How’d you get the drive?” you ask in awe.  You only recruited Jihoon yesterday and he’s already gotten farther than you have in two weeks.  

“Do you really wanna know?  Plausible deniability and all?” he teases.

“You’re risking a lot for me.  I should definitely take the burden if you get caught,” you say matter of factly.  

“Well, we’ll see what’s actually readable on there.  Some of the info might be corrupted.  I took that info off one of the security desks and I was paranoid and in a rush, so I had to yank it out when it was only about eighty percent downloaded.  Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.  This is more than I could have hoped for.  I’m honestly stunned.”

The both of you are encased in shadow, but the pathlights filtering through the tree branches almost look like stars in their own right, speckling Jihoon so he almost glitters.  You’re so overwhelmed by what could be your salvation at your fingertips.  You practically throw yourself at Jihoon, hugging him tight.  He gives a startled sort of yelp that you choose to ignore for his dignity, but after a second’s hesitation, he hugs you back.  He’s so tall and his hug is all encompassing, making you feel small and protected.  You know you’re probably crossing some lines with this budding friendship, but he’s done no small thing for you and you don’t know how else to truly express your gratitude.

“You’re amazing,” you say.

He laughs softly.  “You’re…something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should—”

“Noona?”  

You whip around to see Jungkook peering through the thick foliage, heart in your throat.  Shit shit shit.  Oh my god.  Panicked, you glance at Jihoon, his face set neutral as he sets a comforting hand on your shoulder.  Jungkook pushes pass the branches and bushes and looks from you to Jihoon.  There’s an excruciating ten seconds where no one says anything.  Shit, how do you explain this???

Jungkook then transforms in front of your eyes.  It’s so subtle, you could miss the minute changes if you’re not paying attention.  He stands taller, his posture anchored forward in his center of gravity.  His shocked doe eyes narrow into something hard and assessing, completely focused on Jihoon.  It reminds you of when he gets serious during solo dance practices, but this is something else because his whole aura becomes unforgiving.  He reaches a hand for you.  “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah.  Um, let’s just go.”  You look back at Jihoon and hope your face conveys enough apology, but you honestly can’t stand here a second longer with both of them staring at each other.  As soon as you grab Jungkook’s hand, he leads you through the foliage.  

When you clear the green, the guards are standing six feet away.  One of them is holding the picnic basket.  You avoid looking at them and trudge towards where your vehicle is parked.  Jungkook catches up to you and you can feel his gaze on you for a time.

“Formation Four,” he calls out authoritatively.

You hear a flurry of movement.  The guards have dropped back ten feet.  Confused, you regard Jungkook.  He’s looking at his feet as he walks, his fingers twirling his rings.  He seems anxious and you’re not sure what’s gonna happen now.  Is Jungkook gonna tell the members?  Are you going to lose your only outside friend, Jihoon?  

Worst yet, you feel this ugly ball of guilt.  This night was supposed to be all about Jungkook and you tainted it by sneaking off on him.  You fucked up because the person who deserves all this trouble the least is darling dongsaeng, Jungkook.  But you almost don’t recognize this Jungkook walking next to you.  He’s a mix of your darling dongsaeng and the man who stared down Jihoon and you’re not sure how to handle this Jungkook.

Of course, he completely derails the apology on the tip of your tongue.  He finally looks at you and the transformation is undone to become the boy that you know with pleading doe eyes.  “I swear I wasn’t trying to spy on you.  I was just worried because it’s nighttime and you shouldn’t be out on your own with that sas—you just shouldn’t be out on your own.  I’m sorry.  I swear, noona, I promise.  I wasn’t trying to spy on you.”

You’re thrown.  What is happening right now?  “Why are you apologizing?  I should be apologizing to you for being distracted.  This wasn’t fair to you.  Tonight was supposed to be about you and me and I fucked it all up.”

Jungkook’s smile is sad and you honestly want to jump off a bridge for making him feel this way.  He huffs a tired laugh.  “There are a lot of secrets with the hyungs.  And I hate it, but I’m part of that too.  That’s why it’s hard for you to trust, right?”

You nod, at a loss for words with Jungkook addressing this so directly.  

“Well, this is a secret I can keep for you.  The guards didn’t see anything and I’ll talk to them before they leave.”

“Jungkook, I can’t ask you to lie for me.”

“I’m not gonna lie.  When they ask me how dinner went, I’ll talk about dinner.  The end.”

“It still doesn’t feel right to have you keep this secret for me.”

Jungkook purses his lips.  “You heard us fighting the other night, right?  That’s why you didn’t come to the sleepover?”

There’s no point in hiding it at this point.  Everything’s gone to shit anyway.  “Yeah.  I heard some of it.”

“Well, Tae-hyung is right.  You need more than just us.”  Jungkook stops walking and pulls you in for a hug.  This hug hurts though.  It hurts because it’s not just you he’s holding tightly.  It’s your whole self, jagged edges and all, both of you bleeding. 

He pulls back and his normally open book face is unreadable.  

“I’ll keep this secret for you, but I need you to listen to me and trust me just this once, okay?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah, Kookie.  Tell me.  What is it?”

A million things flit across his eyes that you aren’t able to catch before his face sets in grim determination.  “Do you love me?”

It’s no lie when you say, “Yes.”

“And you know that I’m a combination of all the hyungs?”

“You’re still your own person, Kookie.”

“Yes, Yoongi-hyung, I know I’m my own person, but I’m talking to Y/N-noona, right now.  You know I’m a combination of all the hyungs?”

“Yes.”

“And a combination of you.”  His lips turn up and you smile.

“Yes.”

“If you love me knowing that I’m a combination of all the hyungs, then you love them too, or at least parts of them.”

You purse your lips because, well, you can’t deny that.  Just this morning you found your affection for Hobi had stayed constant.  Last night, you couldn’t sever the string connecting you to Jin.  And today, you see that Jungkook is now all grown up before your eyes with an iron grip on your heart that you doubt he’ll ever let go.

“Trust me just this once, noona.  Don’t give up on your family.”

Back to the Multiverse - Join the Taglist - Back to Series Masterlist

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Taglist: @miksancheese @justamomnamedamie @the-daechwita-archive @alpacaparkaseok @whatamitoyou @nap-of-a-starr

A/N: I literally have no excuse for the late posting. I've just been out of it. No holiday cheer here. Seasonal depression and the boys are all leaving. Woe is me. But seriously, some of the characters are becoming self-aware and rogueing, so it's been hard going trying to herd them towards my endgame.

[melodicwitchlight]

willchosen ☀️ dean winchester :

The memory caused Dean chills, looming in the air like a haunting melody, a tune that Dean had long since tried to blot out of his memory. Still, it remained, an ink blot in history. They’d lost so much then, too much to call it a win. And yet, arguably, the one who sacrificed the most was Adam.

Distrust, hesitancy in the raspy and uneven measures of Dean’s breath. It seemed too easy. Why now? What battle raged at the site where the world had almost shattered and fractured?

They’d sacrificed Adam, and left him for whatever fate awaited him. Wouldn’t make for a joyful family reunion. But family, honest to god family, blood or otherwise, was hard to come by. It was one word Dean could never say no to. Blood, their father’s blood, it counted for something, “Stay where you are. Try to keep warm, give me a couple hours. I’ll be there.” he says to Castiel, when Cas called him ; voice shaking a little.

Now at where the church was, with its purple glass stained windows. There’s the sound of church bells in the distance and Dean touches his cold nose against Castiel’s. Chapped lips press to their counterpart as snowflakes cover them: their clothes, their hair, their eyelashes: like a snowglobe, shaken up and then righted again.

He notices Castiel’s hesitancy and asks, ‘ what d’you want to say? I’m listening. ‘ remembering the other had been watching strangers from hell ( saints strangers from hell fmv ) on the motel television. the last time they had been intimate was before Adam’s sacrifice ( and Cas had been going through a difficult time then ), and then Cas had been even more quiet.

he is calling dean from the side of the road he was on. jimmy’s light brown trenchcoat decorated with bullet holes hanging on his person like a heavy hoodie in his bones.

it was lightly raining within the snow, white transparent droplets pattering the pavement around the church with purple glass windows. he remembering during his watching television ( an interesting contraption, he noted ) of a suspenseful show called strangers from hell. the rain was falling upwards to the sky of heaven ; a muted soft tune intertwined with cello vibration. ‘I need to talk to you, dean. it’s…about last night,’ his voice shakes slightly, a rare timbre in tone. he was a soldier of heaven, cold and determined. ‘ the voice says I’m near out of minutes, so please meet me here. ‘ he didn’t want to bother the other much, as dean was having a hard time with his wayward lost and found and lost again ( forever ) brother sacrificing himself ; michael casting blinding white light to blast.

dean is driving in his light pink impala, the tinny radio talking about a neurodivergent workspace and the stresses and shocks of working a nine to five job, which perpetuate distrust and pain.

‘what did you want to talk about last night?’ he says, as he arrives. they share a kiss within the snow, in which he notes cas looks withdrawn, his black feathery eyelashes lowered. he remembered during an intimate time together, cas had been feeling rather unwell. the other had been breathing in short gasps, and saying, ‘ please, ‘ as dean, his heart broken at seeing his angel hurting, went into him ;; cas not seeming to say anything. these were eloquent moans, dean thought.

‘dean, i…’ the angel starts to say, tasting the cold snowflakes falling in his tongue, of dean’s string reassuring arms around him. how could he convey what he felt? he watched strangers from hell, he watched the pizza man with the babysitter ;; kissing the demon meg — hands twining into her black hair. which he had let dean do last night ( his hair rather mussed ). he was not familiar with this intimacy, of darkness echoing in his footsteps. he had an absent father in heaven. he realised the other was still staring at him, waiting for him to continue, and he laughs a little nervously. ‘ …dean, you said I was just keeping you warm that night we were intimate in the blue sofa in our motel. ‘

he had been shaking and in a milky haze, the echo of jimmy when he was bleeding from wound. ‘ and then the next day in the morning, you simply put a glass of water on the nearby table ( white chocolate splintering a purple grapevine ), like nothing had happened. ‘ he had watched strangers from hell, which he empathised with jong woo as moon jo caresses his trembling face, when jong was chained by moon ; bruised and bloody ;; face lowered and blood dripping and congealing from his lips.

[forgotten-contract]

Voidtouched-blue-[prior]

It was as he began to put on that one layer that she made to sit beside him in silence. Her tail had flicked into her lap, the tuft vibrated against her hands, a nearly useless attempt to self-soothe. Though, it was with a conscious thought that she pretended to scratch at the hard surface of those growing horns to offer the payment of pain to the Echo that demanded so much from her. She wanted to remain here in the present with him. She wanted to remain where she was needed the most. The soft hiss and flinch at the muted scrape of claw to horn was just enough to stay the shadows. The throb that followed the willing irritation had given her enough time to hold the space in the quiet with him. She gently leaned into him, placing a shaking hand on his leg. "I'm glad you're safe."

Her embrace was warm - as most things about her so often were compared to the hollow cold - and as she held him, Silvaire felt himself relax into her touch. Even with the ghost of careful arms around bared skin, of sensation that made his throat tighten for a breath, the unspoken understanding eased any memories of his own that threatened.

There was no Echo for the beast to share with her, there was no way for him to bring the torrent of endless fears that hid in the shadows of the candle she’d helped to keep strong, it wasn’t something that could be communicated by mere words alone - and that sighing man knew he wouldn’t have the strength for such a thing.

Even for her.

So to listen to the heartbeat that cradled him, one that did not thrum with panic at his closeness - that was the music that soothed his metaphorical hurts.

It was so strange - so weak - to miss her as she left his touch. Still there she stood before his eyes, yet so did dreams.

And how often had he woken to find them gone?

But the heat of her body lingered on bandaged palms, and he knew she was real. Watching as experienced hands moved bottle and jar to their rightful places, the care of choice to his selfish request, to let him find that cover once more of his shirt; a barrier from the marks that brought this unexpected situation whole.

As he pulled his hair loose from the material to drape once more over his shoulders, he heard that hiss of pain from those sharp teeth as idle touch to those encroaching horns lit her nerves. Did he make them worse? There was no splitting blood, so perhaps not by much.

The shiver of her hand atop his leg made him question that thought. The idea was pushed away the instant she spoke - shot through as he was by the earnest words.

Just as when she had called his heart kind.

He’d not been in any danger, he never was. The contracts would always keep both parties from killing the other; but that was not what she was talking about, not really. It was honest for her want for him to be safe. For him to be comfortable.

To be treated with the compassion neither of them had received for such a long time.

Shivering fingers of his own moved to rest atop her hand, holding tight for a fleeting moment before relaxing - his other rose to run over his eyes as he leaned that elbow against the opposite knee, leaning away for a few motes of quiet, to hide the emotion from her for some attempt to keep that quiver from his lip as he took a breath.

Cyra was still coated in her own blood. Still weakened by a task that had been his own fault; and now she continued to show that unknown monster that tainting compassion.

So tell her.

Bare fingers tapped against his lip as he let his eyes wander - no tears threatened him, that seemed to be reserved for fear - and the man cleared his throat with gentle words, an explanation he knew she didn’t need.

“I work in deals. Anything… for anything.” A pause as that wandering stare flittered over those empty husks for barely an instant. “…It’s common that certain types of people find me. For things they can’t do elsewhere.”

Soft ambers looked through those open alcoves to the endless tomes of his collection that scattered about her home now. The very same types of contracts had been used for almost all things in his library. As, if something couldn’t already be bought for gil - if something was priceless - what would one offer in trade? An uncommon experience perhaps.

“You’re the first person who’s…” Been kind? Appreciatory? An untainted soul? “…You’re different. I suppose it’s put everything else into perspective.”

He changed hands atop her own with a hesitance as he noticed the movement his heart desired - and with that tentative motion, the arm that she leaned against moved to hold her, and if not for the horns he feared to injure further he knew he would have rested his cheek upon her.

A kiss to the crown would do.

“….I’m so tired Cyra.” Quiet. A whisper to the silence. An apology for all the hurts and nightmares he’d brought her.

A human tone.

[dreamcatcherrs]

dating a faceless streamer/youtuber; mcyt x reader

+ this was a request, but it got deleted in my drafts ;-; sorry!

dream:

since he is also a faceless youtuber

he’s very understanding of keeping your privacy

and whatever reason you have to not reveal your face, he respects it

he knows what it’s like to have people tell him to face reveal

sometimes his voice will just appear in the back of your streams/videos

like in sapnap’s with the question about one direction

and chat is like, how long has he been here?????

the two of you would hint at a face reveal

and then after weeks brush it off like it was nothing

because you like to torture the fans, I guess🙄

because dream never has a face cam on

he has the perfect seat for you on his lap whenever he streams/films

and the same thing goes for when you film/stream; he’ll be sitting right next to you with his hand in yours or on your thigh

you’re known as the faceless couple

georgenotfound:

it really doesn't bother him at all that you’re a faceless streamer/youtuber

I don't see him as the type to post a whole lot of pictures with his s/o anyways

or something along those lines

so it wouldn't make a big difference to him

would just think it was funny to tease chat about knowing what you look like, when they don't

and then having them just hear you voice in the background of his videos sometimes

but not actually seeing you

he kinda likes that your relationship is more concealed

and that it’s harder for people to come at you when they don't know what you look like exactly, just because he’s dating you

because that would honestly be his biggest worry when revealing your relationship

so he’s happy that’s one less worry :)

sapnap:

does everything to not get people to beg for a face reveal

he doesn't want people to put that kind of pressure on you

especially if they go after you for it just because you're dating him

like, he will make a video about it if he has to

or tweet about it

the last thing he wants is for the fake fans to try and reveal your face or other things about you

when clearly that’s what you wanna keep private

that being said, he’d do so many streams with you

wether it’s gong against each other, or being on the same team

you always have so much fun together

even if you're literally in the same room together

if his face cam is on, he’d look over at you every now and then and send you a smile or some shit like that

there’s some pretty cute moments - expect a compilation

badboyhalo:

bad would be really proud to have an s/o who did youtube/streamed

and he would for sure help you out if you ever needed him to!

like with coding

or just general growth in your channel

wouldn't really care if you showed your face or not - whatever you're happy with makes him happy

he would just make sure that you never felt pressured to show your face

he knows people out there can be meanies

and come for you just because you don't show your face

and he’d always be there to talk to about it if it ever stressed you out

he would also make sure that you didn't hide your face because you didn’t like it or something like that

and if that was the case, you bet he’d be reassuring you

calling your all kinds of sweet things and show you lots of love

he takes lots of pictures of his two favourite girls

you and rat, of course (without showing your face, obviously)

technoblade:

he actually really likes that you're a faceless streamer/youtuber

like, he doesn't notice how much he likes it

before he realises all of the times you'd sneaked some hand-holding while streaming, or shared little kisses when on mute wouldn't have been possible if you both didn't show your faces

you’d share these secret glances when streaming/filming together

and no one would even know about it

sometimes his chat hears a little talking in the background from you

but techno just brushes it off like you weren't sitting right next to him the entire time

and vice versa

he also just stays with you when you're working

sharing small touches and words

chat also notice eventually how much you gush over each other without noticing

it happens A LOT more than you realise

especially from his side🤭

wilbur soot:

okay so

I think wilbur would have a hard time not showing you off to stream every second of the day

he would just always talk about you and want you there with him in his streams

and miss your touch after 5 minutes of being apart

but would be totally respectful of you wanting to remain faceless

he would just talk to you from an angle where chat couldnt see you

but yeah, he loves that you do the same type of job as him

and most of all, you motivate each other on days where you can't be bothered to even get out of bed

you’re definitely that couple that everyone makes cute compilations of

and that everyone strives to be

chat loves you, what more can I say

corpse husband:

ANOTHER FACELESS COUPLE

the power you two hold over everyone is actually immaculate

you stream/film together all the time

just having fun and being yourselves

he would definitely ask if you could join the games he plays with others when streaming

and if that wasn't possible, he’d just get you to come into his room and be part of it that way

he teases you a lot on stream

both cutely and mischievously

and your viewers are like👀

while his chat is just going crazy

you share lots of giggles

like, seriously, the majority of the videos/streams consists of you two laughing your asses off

you two will forever be known as the faceless couple

even if you both face reveal, that’ll always be your title

skeppy:

zak will find a way to show you off no matter what

he just can't resist

the way his heart is always beating out of his chest because of you is just too much for him to not ever show you to the world

but of course with your consent only

he wouldn't ever pressure you or anything

but since you're only remaining faceless

you can expect LOTS of matching outfit pictures taken in the mirror

and just lots of pictures of you in general

with your face blocked out or not in view, of course

you'd always be helping each other with your setups or videos

and he’d want to introduce you to literally everyone he knows

especially bad

you don't necessarily stream/film a lot with each other

but you're always in each others’ company in some shape or form

he always mentions you in his streams

just small stories or conversations

chat can tell he’s head over heels for you

karl jacobs:

he's the most support person everrr

he’d always be celebrating even the tiniest achievements with you

you hit 2k subs? he’ll treat you to an expensive ass dinner

you hit 1 million subs? he’ll buy you a whole room full of filming gear to improve from your previous ones

you managed to finish that one video you've been struggling with? he takes you on a weekend trip to somewhere you’ve always wanted to go

he’ll beg you to join him in is streams

just so he can hold your hand :)

or laugh with you every once in a while

he doesn't need you to face reveal at all

your company is all that matters to him when it includes the rest of the world

I mean, he’s the one able to see your beautiful face all the time, so he can't really complain even if he felt like it

always tweets about you or tweets things at you that only you two understand

and everyone is like ?????

but you don't care :)

fundy:

fundy actually doesn't talk a lot about you in his streams or videos

mostly to avoid people leaving bad light on you in the chat

unless he’s in the same game as you, of course

which in that case, the first thing he’d want to do is find you and talk to you in the game

he’s very respectful of you keeping your face private

and tries his best to keep the pressure of a face reveal off your shoulders

especially if it’s happening in his or your comments

if it gets really bad, he’ll eventually talk about it on twitter or something like that

does tiktoks with you

only with your voice though

and posts manyyy pictures where you’re tagged, but only slightly in view

he doesn't really care about your face being a secret

as long as he gets to see it, he’s happy

quackity:

alex has so much fun making videos or going live with you

and obviously you have the best collabs

you’re the funniest couple on the platform and it shows

he would talk so much about you - like, telling embarrassing stories about you or some shit like that

or saying how clingy you are with him

and chat would be like AWW HE TALKS ABOUT THEM

and he's like “no”😤

but alex can't fool anyone

he’s in it for real with you🥴

and at times, he doesn't even try to hide it

especially when he speaks up about ho proud he is of you

and how people should respect your choice of remaining faceless to the world

but then he quickly moves on to his silly self again

with blushy cheeks ^w^

punz:

has you on his lap constantly

even when his hand-cam is on

nothing will stop him from making you sit on his lap while he’s streaming

he loves that he can rant to you about the problems he faces sometimes concerning his streams

because you get it

he’d teach you the games you didn't know of

and you'd teach him the games that he didn't know of

and then you'd stream/film together after learning the basics

he doesn't talk about you a lot on stream

but chat eventually figures out it’s because you're literally in the same room as him

and how do they find that out, you may ask?

well, your snores coming from his headphones made it very obvious to say the least

awesamdude:

sam knows what it’s like being a faceless streamer

so if you wanted, he’d give you all of the advice you needed

and if you ever considered face revealing, he'd totally help you!

you guys have matching setups 

you sometimes talk to each other across the room as you're playing the same game together

because it’s funny to tease chat that way

you’d be posting pictures on social media

that give off hints that you're with each other a lot

like, in one photo he’s wearing a hoodie

and the next day, you post a photo of you in that exact same hoodie

stuff like that

he also celebrates big and small achievements with you

wether it be you achieving them or him, you always celebrate together

eret:

matching. outfits.

STRAWBERRY DRESSES

PLATFORM HEELS

ahhhh chat would be going absolutely crazy at the fits you guys have sometimes

and you're always matching

as in always

he tells their stream that you have a matching crown like his

but that chat obviously can't see it on you because you don’t have a face-cam

she likes telling stories about you

like, memories they have of you two together

and he just always compliments you and praises you for your hard work on her streams

telling everyone how happy you make them

she also always invites you to join his streams because it means a lot to them that you're there :)

jack manifold:

jack is so excited about the fact that you're also a streamer/youtuber

it makes it easier to open up about your relationship online

because some people already knew you before you revealed you two were dating

though I feel like jack would kinda like the secrecy of your face online

just to brag to his audience about how he gets to see your face every day

but also because he likes that there’s more privacy for you

sometimes he’d pop into your room without knowing you were streaming/filming

and would just start talking to you while you giggled about how you were “kinda in the middle of something”

when jack realised what you meant, he’d hurry out of the room in an instant

you’d always be in each others chats/comments

showing what a supportive couple you were

he always raids you at the end of his streams if you’re streaming at the same time

tommyinnit:

tommy always forgets that you're a faceless streamer/youtuber

and is sometimes sooo close to blurting out something he shouldn't

because he’s so used to seeing you, he just kinda forgets that no one else can

you always have to send him a text to “sToP TalKIng AbOUt yOu” so he doesn't accidentally reveal something

that being said, he literally talks so much about you

again, I’m bringing up that time he said that tubbo is so clingy

he says the same thing about you

but he’s really the clingy one, and it’s pretty obvious

you catch him saying things like “yeah, y/n is really cool”

or “guys, please don't say stuff like that to y/n”

getting all serious and shit🥺

he asks you constantly if you can join his vc

even when you're busy, he’s like “pay. attention. to. me😤”

it’s really entertaining sometimes

especially when his streams just consist of you two bickering the whole time

calls you his favourite woman

tubbo:

ahhh tubbo is so sweet when it comes to you

like, when anyone mentions you he just starts smiling

and wants to tell everyone about you

even if they already know you from your channel

he just can't help but ramble on about you

especially to tommy

he replies to all of your tweets

and you reply to all of his

you always feature each other on your channels/streams

and share a celebratory cake when reaching subgoals

sometimes chat notices similarities in your layouts

like a colour change

or a similar pattern

posts a photo of your pinkies intertwined

wearing matching bracelets you made yourself

and everyone finds it super cute<3

ranboo:

he would encourage you so much to join his videos

and wear the same type of outfit to cover your face with

but with a sense of yourself in it so you'd look similar, but not exactly like each other

you'd be matching outfits so often

doesn't talk a lot about you on his streams

apart from mentioning how short you are

but on TWITTER

that's a whole other story

his twitter has practically just become a fan account of you

he’s always in your comments

just to leave a :)

or a supportive comment

if you ever wanted to do a face reveal

he would do it with you if it meant making you feel more comfortable about it

or less nervous

you’re just very lowkey and cute

___________________________________

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[milfgyuu]

Lovers & Friends [M] Pairing: Wen Junhui x Fem!Reader x Kim Mingyu Tags: 3.2k, fwb to lovers, smut.  Summary: Blurred lines gain sudden clarity when you propose a little, experiment, with your lover’s best friend. 

Warnings: Explicit sexual content 18+, unprotected sex, (m/f), threesome (mxfxm), oral (m), undertones of power dynamics, very soft dom!Jun, light bondage, language, Jun is a simp, and Mingyu is just a himbo happy to help, jealousy, praise mixed with dirty talk, overuse of ‘baby’.

A/N: Thank my muse for having such a spicy dream that I had to write it. Also, I hope this is not terribly edited but I’m exhausted and typing with one eye open at this point.

Jun is a patient man. He’s a giving man. He prides himself on the fact that he always remains calm and cool, no matter what.

So, why in the hell is he so agitated right now?

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s only half an hour into the movie and he can hardly focus what's happening on screen because of the incessant giggling to his right where you’re seated between himself and his roommate, Mingyu. Perhaps it’s the fact that Mingyu’s paying more attention to you than the movie itself. 

Or the fact that you’re just as guilty.

Jun invited you over, per usual, considering you’re his friend. Well…friends was what you told everyone else you were because it was more socially acceptable than ‘friends who sometimes also sleep together because you’re both kinky fucks who understand each other better than anyone else’.

He attempts to ignore you both, turning back toward the television with his arms crossed. You suddenly jolt against him and he looks down at you but you’re looking at Mingyu who’s quietly chuckling at earning such a reaction. He’s about to look away when he sees the blanket on your lap shift and he follows along the ripples to find Mingyu’s hand buried beneath it.

Scoffing, Jun rolls his eyes, adjusting his posture to prop his elbow on the back of the couch behind your head. The muscle in his bicep twitches in irritation. He knows Mingyu wouldn’t do something as stupid as trying to get in your pants, literally, sitting right next to him but he’s still got his hands in places that are pissing Jun off. The way you giggle and shuffle around does nothing to soothe that either.

The movie is a moot point which sucks because Jun actually wanted to see this one but now he’s stuck watching you fuck around with his friend while completely oblivious to the fact that he’s side-eyeing the absolute hell out of you.

Mingyu dips his head close to yours and whispers something in your ear. You both dissolve into muted snickering and you hide your face in his shoulder, stifling the noise as Mingyu’s hand grips your thigh. Jun gets to his feet and the two of you look up at him curiously.

“I’m grabbing a drink,” He says in a flat tone, holding out his hand to you, “Come with me.”

It’s not a question nor an offer. It’s a command. Plain and simple.

You furrow your brow and take his hand, “Everything ok?”

Jun just turns away and pulls you along toward the kitchen. Mingyu calls out, “Do you want me to pause the movie?” and Jun doesn’t even turn around.

“Leave it on,” He says, “ No one’s watching it anyway.”

Now secluded in the kitchen, Jun presses you up against the counter, crowding into your space until you suck in an uneven breath. You chuckle awkwardly, “I thought you invited me over for a movie,” your fingers find purchase on his chest and he flicks a brow up, “Was that supposed to be code for something else?”

“Since when are you and Mingyu so close?”

You touch falters and you look up at him with big doe eyes, “Huh? Me and Gyu? I m-mean…we’ve always gotten along. Why?”

Jun’s hands come up to grip the sides of your waist. He flexes his fingers attempting to reign in some sort of control over his emotions. You watch him closely, the muscle in his jaw clenching and relaxing as he thinks of that to say.

“Do you like him?”

“What?” You’re genuinely surprised by his question, bracing your hands on his biceps to push him back a little to really look at him, “You know I don’t. I’m not interested in him like that or anyone else for that matter. What’s gotten into you?”

“So you don’t want to fuck him?”

Well, that’s just about enough of that. You shove Jun back but he hardly moves and you glare at him. 

“You’re being an asshole right now. Just because we sleep together does not give you the right to dictate who I hang out with and quite frankly, who I might be interested in fucking. Besides, we agreed to be exclusive and if you honestly think I would risk our friendship for dick,” You reach between you and grasp him in your hand, squeezing enough to make him bow over you with a groan, “Which I’m already getting plenty of from your dumbass, then that sounds like a you problem.”

Jun wheezes out an apology and you release him, still thoroughly pissed off. Mingyu is hot, sure. He’s fun and probably a fantastic lay but you’d sooner shave your head before hooking up with Jun’s roommate for crying out loud. Sure, you started this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing one night when you were both a little too far gone, but you had other reasons for maintaining that relationship and not only because Jun was open to trying new things with you.

The little lightbulb in your brain flashes repeatedly and you think you may have the best idea you’ve ever thought of. Two birds, one stone. 

Or...two cocks, one...well, let’s just say the end goal shall be met.

“Jun,” You suddenly grasp his arms, “Let’s have a threesome.”

Jun’s jaw clenches shut and he looks down at you with a calculating gaze though with much less heat. Probably due to the fact that you had him literally by the balls a minute ago. “Why him?”

“Because he’s your friend, he gives me the impression that he’d be down, and he probably won’t tell anyone,” You reason and Jun listens with a straight face, “I’ll make this worth your while, I promise.”

It does mark off a few kinks you’ve both been tossing around and that reason alone is why Jun concedes, huffing out a long sigh and shaking his head. You squeal, pushing up on your toes to kiss him hotly on the mouth and it's enough for Jun to fall under your little spell, slipping his tongue past your lips like he hasn’t been fuming with jealousy for the past half hour.

Like he didn’t just agree to watch you hook up with his roommate of all people.

It’s hard to care when your lips detach from his and trail down his throat. Even harder when your fingers slip beneath his underwear. He groans when you wrap your hand around him lightly, teasing your thumb over the head of his cock.

“You’re evil,” He grunts when you giggle and give it a little squeeze.

“Mhm,” You smirk, abandoning him in favor of sinking lower and pulling his pants down around his thick thighs, “How long until he gets curious and checks on us?”

Jun buries his hand in your hair, taking back a little control, “Who knows? You’ll be too busy to notice though,” and with that he guides his length into your hot mouth. You sigh happily feeling the weight of him on your tongue.

Giving blow jobs has never been at the top of your to-do list until Jun because having a cock carelessly crammed down your throat sucks. No pun intended. 

Jun is different.

“Pretty baby,” He hums and strokes his thumb over your cheek with a grin, “Can’t take all of me but you look so good trying. You want me to fuck your mouth baby? Yeah, I know you do. I got you, hold my thighs.”

Jun is different because he’s a giver, even when he’s the one taking.

The praise goes straight to your pussy and your thighs flex on instinct making Jun chuckle because you know he was looking for it. He thrives on your physical and emotional reactions. To praise and command. He especially loves when he knows exactly what you want without asking.

Your body melts under his gaze, relaxing your jaw for him to push in and out at his leisure, fingers digging into his supple thighs when your throat constricts around his length. Your eyes close for only a moment but Jun’s tapping your cheek with his free hand and then sliding it into your hair as well, pulling you onto him instead of thrusting himself forward.

“There she is,” He grunts in pleasure, “You wanna touch yourself so bad, don’t you? Ah, Ah, don’t talk with your mouth full, baby.”

Slight chastisement but it feels right in the moment and you attempt to store that thought for later. Jun’s pace increases, his fingers tighten in your hair, and he doesn’t have to tell you to keep your eyes open because you wouldn’t miss the sight of Jun cumming in your mouth for anything in the world. He holds you still, head tipping back heavily on his shoulders until he’s fucked your throat raw and coated the back of it like an sore attempt to soothe the ache.

He pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants, leaving you panting with the effort to regain oxygen. Jun leans down, your face between his big hands and he kisses the top of your head before pulling you back up and supporting your weight against his chest.

Jun was right when he said you wouldn’t even notice Mingyu’s arrival because he’s been standing in the doorway for the last three minutes, slack jawed with a semi-hard erection that he’s not prepared to explain.

“Yeah,” Jun laughs at his friend but he can’t take his eyes off you, “I can’t stop looking at her either but I already did something about it. Are you?”

Mingyu is so fucking aroused and confused. Nothing logically forms in his brain for a response and so he just stands there and says, “Huh?”

“I asked if you’re going to do something about the way you keep staring,” Jun clarifies, arms around your body, hands clasped comfortably at your lower back. “Don’t act like you haven’t been flirting with her all night.”

Your head is laid on his chest, turned to watch Mingyu’s every reaction, to read every transparent thought in his face.

“Is this a test?” Mingyu scrunches his face up, almost in pain. 

You look up at Jun for confirmation that this is still okay. That he is still okay with this because regardless of whether you’re ‘together’ or not, he’s still your friend and you won’t cross any boundaries that might hurt him in the end. This is meant to be mutually beneficial for all parties. 

He nods and unwraps his arms, letting you go over to Mingyu with a watchful eye.

You look up at the giant of a man, eyes round and fucked out, and he doesn’t stand a chance…

“Mingyu,” You grab a hold of his large hand between both of yours, “Think I can convince you to let me sit on that big cock of yours?”

The head rush that follows your words leaves Mingyu swaying in the doorway but he manages a ‘yeah, totally’ and you’re leading him back to the couch and pushing him against the cushions in no time. Jun follows behind, much slower as he tries to rationalize the irritatingly possessive thoughts that keep trying to slip through.

He clears his head with a shake and pushes off the counter.

You’re already on your knees between Mingyu’s legs stroking and suckling at the head of his cock to coax him to full hardness when he steps into the room. Mingyu’s a bit thicker where Jun has him beat in length but similarly, you won’t be taking either without some sort of prep.

Jun moves quietly as he comes up behind you and squats down closer to your height. He gathers your hair in one hand and pulls you up gently, kissing the side of your face, “Mingyu likes visuals,” He whispers loud enough for the other man to hear, “Stand up for me, baby.”

He helps you to your feet and Mingyu’s hand takes the place of your absent one, watching the pair of you closely. Jun lifts the hem of your shirt and tugs it over your head and onto the floor. His hands softly graze the bare skin of your back as he unclasps your bra and pushes it to the floor.

His lips move to the side of your throat and he kisses you tenderly as he reaches for the waistband of your joggers and underwear, pushing them down until they’re both pooled on the floor. Hands wrap around your naked body and you turn in Jun’s arms, his lips dipping to yours almost immediately.

Jun walks you over to the couch and pulls you into his lap, knees bracing his thighs. He keeps enough distance to slip a hand between you, coaxing his fingers through your warmth before dipping two inside. You mewl into his mouth, forehead dropping against his while he works you open, long fingers lighting your core on fire.

“This is what you wanted all along,” He smirks at the way your mouth pops open with a soft moan, “Attention. Mine. His. You just want to be put on display.”

“Want you to watch me,” You sigh, body twitching with an impending orgasm, “Want you to think about why you got so jealous of Mingyu in the first place.”

Mingyu huffs out a little laugh at your determination. The fact that you’re challenging Jun to measure out his feelings while he’s two knuckles deep in your pussy, stretching you out to fuck another man right in front of him. He’s not sure what the dynamics of your relationship involve but after this…he’s respectfully bowing out.

Key word, after. He’s already hard and incredibly invested. 

Jun’s jaw twitches at the comment and he flexes his digits, burying them deeper than before until you’re coming apart with a cry. Head lolling against his shoulder, you blink a few times, trying to rid the stars beneath your eyelids. Jun’s lips kiss the shell of your ear, “If you want me to watch,” He grunts, shifting you in his lap, “Then go put on a show.”

Moment of truth, you suppose.

You slowly climb off Jun’s lap and he moves to sit in a chair across from Mingyu who’s looking up at you, curious to see if you’ll still go through with it. You look over your shoulder and meet Jun’s eye, waiting one last time to see if he’ll change his mind but if anything, he looks smug, like you looking at him for permission is some sort of confirmation that you’ve also got something to confess.

You roll your eyes toward the ceiling where neither of them see it and straddle Mingyu’s lap, with quite a bit of effort, but the second you aim to brace yourself against his chest, Jun’s voice cuts into the silence, sounding more serious than ever and you freeze, “No touching.”

Jun loves to be touched. To have your hands all over his body, wrapped around his neck, his shoulders, braced against his warm chest when you ride him. For him to so adamantly forbid you to touch Mingyu…

Mingyu takes over, helping you adjust your position to get comfortable and he whispers to you over the soft sounds from the television, “So, you're using me to make Jun jealous?”

You meet his eyes honestly, “Yes and no. Do you want to stop?”

Mingyu looks at Jun over your shoulder and smirks, “Nah, I think it’s a great idea. He doesn’t even know what to do with himself right now. Hot and bothered, literally.”

“Are you going to fuck him or not, baby?” Jun huffs out in agitation, “I’m already bored.”

He’s actively trying to not be jealous now and that makes it all the more enticing to sink down on Mingyu’s cock, both of you groaning together in a way that conflicts Jun to no end. On one hand, you look and sound incredibly sexy and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by watching you. On the other hand, he so badly wants to be the one beneath you.

After a moment of accommodating a little extra girth you’re soon rolling your hips finding a rhythm that works for the both of you. You’re so good at first, keeping your hands on the back of the couch over his shoulders while his remain glued to your hips to keep you steady while you ride him.

That lasts all of... six minutes?

You can only take so much of Mingyu’s unabashed moaning and the way he thrusts up into you with desperation before you lose yourself in the moment, hands falling first to his shoulders. Jun remains patient, trying to focus on the way your body moves, on the delicate sounds pouring from your pretty lips. He wishes so badly to see your face but then your hands press against Mingyu’s chest and his tether strains all the more.

Eventually, one hand slips down against Mingyu’s flexed abdomen, your head tipping back in that telltale way that let’s Jun know you’re close but he can’t stand your hands on someone that’s not him. He grabs your shirt off the floor to use as a makeshift bind and pulls both arms behind your back, the sudden movement forcing you to look up at him in surprise.

“I told you,” He says in a low tone, “No touching.”

Still rolling your hips with Mingyu‘s strong hands keeping you in place, you drop your head back against Jun’s stomach, locking him in with hazy eyes while you take pleasure from another man.

In that moment, with you not taking your eyes off of him, he doesn’t even care. If feels like its more for him than anything else and he wraps one hand around your throat, keeping you still while Mingyu fucks into you from below, his tongue lavishing your exposed breasts until you’re nearly sobbing.

It’s filthier and far more erotic than you imagined it would be and when you come apart, staring into Jun’s eyes while Mingyu practically impales you on his cock, cumming hard and deep inside you, you’re pretty sure the earth tilts on it’s axis.

Jun’s hands are so soft, gently stroking your cheeks, your throat, the tops of your shoulders. “That’s my girl,” He whispers, ignoring his friend harshly panting in recovery, “My good baby. You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all fucked out and full of cum. Gonna take good care of you.”

You’re dizzy with exhaustion, arousal, adoration? You’re not even sure if the words leaving your lips are coherent as Jun presses kisses to your skin, untying your shirt while Mingyu rubs soothing circles into your thighs. With two sets of hands, you’re lifted off Mingyu’s lap. You wince at the empty feeling but Jun immediately scoops you up without another word and carries you off to his bedroom.

Mingyu could figure his own shit out.

“You couldn’t wait... to whisk me away, huh?” You giggle tiredly, stretching your stiff limbs the second he lays you in his bed.

Jun rolls his eyes, stripping off his clothes in a millisecond before he’s in the bed with you, hovering over your naked body, your arms wrapped delicately around his neck and shoulders. “It was an experience and we experienced it,” He kisses you chastely, “Let’s never do it again.”

“You sound jealous,” You smirk as he frowns, yet laces your fingers together all the same.

“So what if I am?” He asks quietly, one hand stroking over your bare thigh under the covers, “Do you hate it?”

“Depends…” You play with his hair, “Is it because it’s me or do you just not like sharing your toys in general?”

“You’re only my toy when you beg me to use you like one,” He smarts, nipping at the soft skin of your throat, “What do you want to hear from me baby? That I’m yours? That I am whipped beyond belief? Obviously…since I’d rather punch a brick wall than watch you flirt with Mingyu but then agreed to watch you fuck him because you asked nicely. Maybe deep down, subconsciously, I have a big fat crush on you. What about it?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the look on his face, “Mmm,” You steal another kiss, and perhaps another after that, “Sounds like simp shit.”

Jun scoffs, laughing incredulously as he pushes your thighs apart, “I’ll show you simp shit.”

“Oh, my god!” You gasp out when he fills you once more, sensitivity sending an electric pulse through your body, “You wanna be my boyfriend so bad!”

“I think we’ve established that already!” He groans, smile hidden in your hair, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a point to prove.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” You drag your fingers through his hair, listening intently. 

He pulls back to smirk, “The fact that you wanna be my girlfriend even more.”

SVT M.List | Main M.List 

→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Bubblebeom, 2020. ©️

[phantomrose96]

Old Wounds

Danny’s secret is not a secret anymore.

The lines between Fenton and Phantom have long since blurred. And it’s a common occurrence for news reporters to trip over their tongue when flagging him down, mid-transformation, for a post-fight interview. “Phanton.” “Fentom.” So often that, to most now, he is just Danny.

When Danny wants upgrades to his gear, he comes to his mother. When Danny learns a quirky new element of Ghost Zone lore, he brings it to his father. When the Amity Park Ghost Alarm is raised, he’s first on the scene with the Fenton RV right on his non-corporeal heels.

When he’s injured, Danny comes only to his friends and sister.

Jazz notices the pattern. How it is only her, or only Sam, or only Tucker who receives the late-night knock at the window glass, with her brother on the other side, corny sheepish smile on display and arm or leg or shoulder held up in explanation.

Jazz notices how hushed Danny remains, day or night, when he comes to her for first aid. How he speaks in that same hesitant muted tone as he did when all of this was still a secret. How he quiets himself in the way injured prey animals do.

Jazz doesn’t feel it’s her place to ask. Not yet, at least. Eventually. But not yet.

The window is open. Honeysuckle-sweet gusts of late-spring air swirl through Jazz’s room and tease away the sheen of sweat that has collected on her brow. She cannot wipe it away herself, not with both hands meticulously occupied in tweezering out the singed fabric from her brother’s arm.

Danny winces, and hisses, and Jazz frees another thread from its embedded hold in Danny’s burn wound.

“It’s kind of like… summer vacation when we were kids and we’d get splinters visiting Aunt Alicia’s lake house,” Jazz remarks with another careful tug. “…If we can call it a lake house.”

“Lake shed,” Danny replies, grinning through the sweat shining on his pale face. “And I think every part of that dock was an OSHA violation.” He laughs through another wince.

“Dad was the king of tweezers. I think he got out every splinter that dock ever gave me.” Jazz pauses. “I wonder why that was. Think it’s the needlepoint?”

“It’s definitely the needlepoint,” Danny agrees.

Jazz hesitates on the question lingering behind her tongue. Just a little too long. Just a little too obviously.

“What?” Danny asks.

Jazz’s hand falters. She puts the tweezers down. “Danny, I will always always be happy to help you like this. Same goes for Sam, same goes for Tucker, I know. I’m positive. But I wonder why… not Mom or Dad?” Jazz eyes the tweezers, glinting in the moonlight. “I’m just… I’m thinking how much cleaner this might be if you got Dad to do it. And Mom’s got like, wilderness survival level first aid expertise. I can’t help thinking I’m hurting you more by it being… me, you know?”

Danny looks at her, and looks past her a moment. His grin slips a fraction into discomfort as his eyes leave hers. “Maybe I just like the excuse to invade your room.”

“Danny…” Jazz waits until he looks at her again. “Are you afraid they’ll make you stop if they realize you’re getting injured?”

Danny lets out a puff of air from behind his lips. “No, never. I mean, maybe if I got really really injured they’d say something. But just getting a little roughed up? I think it’s about on par with a kid coming home from football practice with a few scrapes, at least, in their eyes. They get more banged up than me these days. I’m not worried.”

Jazz reaches for the bottle of disinfectant. She unscrews the cap to a biting alcohol smell. “…So will you tell me why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you won’t ever go to them with injuries? Ever?”

Cotton swab, pure silver under the moonlight. Jazz douses it gently, a muted glug-glug from the bottle.

“…I’m that obvious about it, huh?”

“You’re obvious about most things. This’ll be cold.” Jazz applies the swab to the open wound, and Danny hisses in turn.

“Yeah. Cold. And stingy. Cold and stingy.” After a few seconds, the tension eases out of Danny’s body. He droops a little, shoulders slumped, and Jazz pulls the cotton swab away.

“Are you ashamed of your injuries?”

“No.”

“Are you worried Mom and Dad’ll make them worse?”

“Nah. You said it yourself, those two are weird, unconventional medical experts.”

“Then why not?”

A beat of silence follows. A moment of trepidation. Awash in moonlight, Danny looks up at her, and the glow in his green eyes has a life of its own. “I don’t want them to see the injuries that have already healed.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Jazz looks again. Danny’s suit covers most everything, save now for the one sleeve that’s been rolled back. She sees what she already knew was there – what isn’t obvious to the eye not searching – threads of white ridges, puckers of skin, a faded rashy texture of what had once been an ectoblast burn. Old injuries. Long healed. Faded and fading further. “Those are all healed now. Just some scars, right…?”

Danny hesitates.

“I don’t want them to figure out how many of those scars they caused.”

A gust of wind steals the antiseptic smell from the room. Jazz sits with the silence. She thinks, and she processes.

“Oh…”

Danny straightens. “They kind of… live in this world where hunting ghosts is all fun and games, you know? Like it’s a sport, like they can just get into go-mode and jump into the fun. I don’t think they’ve figured out yet that they can—could—did …cause damage.”

Danny adjusts himself on Jazz’s bed, one leg pulled up, body angled to face her directly. He doesn’t let his eye contact wander now. “They both apologized. Definitely. Like that definitely happened, back at the start of this. But it was kind of like ‘We must’ve given you so much trouble Danny! How’d you come home every day and not bite our heads off over that?’ Like. Again. Like it’s a game. Like they’d been knocking my chess pieces over for a year and not—”

Danny falters. He raises his uninjured arm and tucks the hair away from his face. “And I don’t… want it to click for them. What I have right now with Mom and Dad is so nice… It’s so much better than I even imagined. I want it to stay like this. Forever, if possible.”

“Danny…”

“And even that actually—maybe I’m actually wrong about that. Completely wrong. About their reaction, I mean. It’s possible maybe they’d see everything and just go,” Danny deepens his voice, “‘Wow! We did a number on you, huh? Man Danny I don’t know how you didn’t just smack us over the breakfast table every morning.’ you know? Like that. Like this was all just always a game. And they—and I-- …I like how relaxed ghost hunting is with them. I actually like that it feels like a game. I don’t ever want to go back to feeling how scared and afraid and unsafe and hurt I was that first year. ...But I’m afraid of how it would feel to know that maybe they’d see that, look at it all, everything they did and the scars like the actual proof and it—if it wouldn't ever be real to them. If they'd never get that it was like that. If they still wouldn’t realize—you know? That they—if they—I don’t uh…” Danny drops his eyes, and he shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know how to explain it…”

“No I—Danny I know what you’re saying. Don’t worry. Danny, I—”

“Either answer. Any answer. I don’t want to know… I don’t actually want to know.” Danny angles himself away again, feet dropped over the side of Jazz’s bed, staring down at the hands in his lap. “If it would horrify them, then I’d be ruining all the good things I have with them right now. And if it wouldn’t horrify them—” Danny falls quiet. The breeze has stilled. The room is colder now. “…then I think I just don’t ever want to know.”

Jazz nods, and nods harder.

“I get it. I get it. That’s a good enough answer for me, Danny, I promise. I’m your first aid person, okay? I won’t ask again. Thanks for… thanks for telling me, Danny.”

"Can always trust you to bring up the difficult conversations huh? Of course that's always been your thing. Talking to you is--well I'd say it's like pulling teeth, but maybe it's more like pulling ecto-demolished hazmat suit fabric out of a burn wound."

Danny offers a sheepish grin - it's an olive branch, a request to lighten the mood. Jazz meets it with her own small grin that does not touch her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I'm your older sister. It's my job to be a pain. Now sit still, I need to be more of a pain if we're gonna de-hazmat suit your injury."

She picks the tweezers back up. The silence rings with an echo in her head now. Jazz focuses her attention back on her task, and she finds something she was wrong about before:

There is nothing faded about the scars that web up and down her little brother’s arm. They are stark streaks of lightning, glowing silver under the moonlight. And Jazz wonders how many others—how many that flaked away and melded back with healthy skin—how many of those might still be living, lingering, a permanent part of her little brother, buried well beneath the surface…

[hellsdogs]

Kimura knows sign language. It’s an old tale, one he has never shared. Back in the days at the foster home, there was a kid—silent, isolated, because he couldn’t speak. Sato was his name. No one talked to Sato, not because he wouldn’t listen, but because they couldn’t understand him, the little boy was mute. Kimura never knew if it was a disability or if Sato went something so horrible he decided not to speaak anymore. Friendship, they say, sometimes springs from the smallest moments. For Kimura, it started with silence. As a boy, he found peace sitting next to Sato. They didn’t need words; they didn’t need much at all. Slowly, Kimura learned what Sato was saying with his hands, and they found a way to talk. Since then, silence became a constant companion for Kimura. There’s a certain peace in it—an inner quiet that has followed him through life. From his youth, through the cold, empty luxury hotel rooms paid for by his clan, to this lonely quest at the edge of the world. Even now, when the world explodes around him—when bullets fly and lives are taken—inside his head, there’s only silence. When he strangles a man to death, the quiet remains, as if violence itself cannot disturb the calm within. The woman faces him fully now, and Kimura meets her gaze. People with sad eyes... she says. He can’t help but smile faintly, a dismissive curve of the lips. It’s strange, to have a complete stranger read your eyes better than the ones who once knew you, it's oddly intimate. Kimura kept the reputation of a cold serious man, cruel. Nobody truly knew how wounded he was. That thing she said, it reminds him of Sato for a minute. Kimura always believed that those who cannot speak, see more clearly. ** I don’t know about sad, my eyes have always been like this. ** He signs as the only response he could give. Honest. He doesn't know about sadness, he mostly knows about anger. His attention are on her eyes too, wondering what's in hers, but he’s never been good at reading people. His emotional radar has always been a bit off. * You are... *Kimura starts signing, his hands hesitant. He wants to ask her if the one she's looking for is important to her but he doesn't remember the sign for that. It isn’t as good as it once was. “Mmm... Is it someone you lost? Someone dear?” He speaks out loud instead. This place, a bar in the middle of nowhere, is far from where people should linger so that Someone she's looking, it must be important. In any case, he finds her company oddly comforting, as if her presence balances his isolation. Her next question catches him off guard, and he lets out a small, scoff out. "That’s a very smart question." His words are meant, but then he considers the bartender. There’s no need for that man to hear this conversation. One never knows. Kimura starts signing again. ** I am looking for bad people. The bad people who made me a bad person. Like a snake eating its tail. ** The thought slips out, and as soon as he finishes the sign, he realizes the weight of what he just said. After all, he looks the part—well-dressed, clean-cut, the tattoos underneath his black shirt almost visible at his collar, the glock hidden under his blazer, in his belt. The classic yakuza silhouette. ** I will not harm you. ** His hands move quickly. Hoping she knew that, from his posture only. Then, with a subtle bow of his head, he introduces himself. "I'm Kimura." There’s a quiet vulnerability in the air, in between them, two strangers on a quest.