#feedback is always appreciated but like its ur life

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[starsstuddedsky]

Needles and Knives

red hood!jeno x doctor!reader

...

“Don’t you dare die,” you say, gripping the scalpel.

“Already did that,” Jeno mutters, eyes fluttering. “Didn’t agree with me.”

...

summary: Jeno’s plans never included you yet somehow you worm your way into his life. Being a vigilante isn’t easy - but neither is loving one.

genre: angst except i can’t stop them from making jokes so like fun angst. little bits of fluff here and there

warnings: gore, mentions of death, violence, cursing

wc: 16k

a/n: dc fans i am so sorry. my knowledge of these characters comes from wikipedia. medical workers i am so sorry. the medicine in this is NOT accurate. if ur neither maybe you can fully enjoy this fic. i hope you do :) this is as proofread as its going to get..... as always i appreciate any sort of feedback you can give. i hope this story leaves you as delusional about jeno as i am <3

Not for the first time, you open the door to your apartment to find a man covered in blood on your couch. At least he managed to keep it off the floors this time. 

You can just see the back of his head from the doorway, black hair sticking up from where he slouches on the couch. The head seems to be intact, which is a bit of a relief—being a surgical intern means you’ve become numb to gore, but not fully immune to the nastiness of patching up a tear in his scalp. 

“Still alive?” You ask as you kick off your shoes. Your feet ache from standing for the past eight hours. 

Jeno huffs a humorless laugh. “More or less.” He twists to look at you, holding up a very sad looking plant. “Which is more than I can say for this poor thing.” 

You drop your bag behind the couch and cross to stand in front of him, his head swiveling to follow you. He sets the dead succulents down on the side table. The tuft of white that hangs over his forehead bounces with the movement, stark against the rest of his black hair. 

 His shirt is already off, discarded to the side. At work, you’ve become just as numb to bodies as you have to gore. You haven’t quite managed that with Jeno despite seeing him shirtless on the regular since he seems to find himself covered in blood on your couch at least once a week. Still, you can’t really be blamed for being a little flustered when he looks like… Well, that. He’s got more abs than ribs and broad shoulders that give way to thick arms of pure muscle. But you can never truly ogle because he inevitably is covered in too much blood for you to ignore. 

“I think I just popped the stitches,” he says, referring to the wound on his stomach that is once again bleeding. “No new shit. I think.” 

“I don’t think that’s actually any better,” you say. “You know we usually tell patients to refrain from strenuous activity after they’ve been stitched up.” You retrieve the medical bag you definitely don’t keep stocked from the supply closet at Gotham City Hospital. 

“They usually get pain meds, too,” Jeno grumbles, even though he’s never once complained about the actual pain of being stitched back together. 

You kneel in front of him, focusing on what was once a deep gash. He showed up with it a couple days ago, spewing more blood than he physically should be able to produce. It’s already half healed, though the new stitches will still help. 

“They usually aren’t getting blood on my couch either,” you say. “We can do this all day.” 

Jeno doesn’t answer, staying quiet long enough for you to peek at him and make sure he hasn’t passed out from some injury you don’t know about. Instead you find his dark eyes, filled with an intensity that wasn’t there when you were children. You still find it hard to believe the kid that walked with you to school every day for three years has grown up into this—all hard lines and guarded expressions. Every time you look into those eyes you are reminded how little you know about him. 

Here’s what you do know: Jeno and his family disappeared when you were twelve. Vanished in the middle of the school year, leaving the house next to yours half full of their belongings in the flight. And then you didn’t see him for another twelve years, long enough for you to graduate high school, and then college, and then med school. Long enough for you to get a prestigious internship in the surgical program at Gotham City Hospital, which had you moving three states over into an apartment you had to rent without even doing a walkthrough. It’s this apartment—the one that he sits in now—that brought Jeno back to you. Again, he’s become the boy next door, though you still can’t reconcile your memories of the little boy with this man, who never smiles. You barely recognized him. But he recognized you, and even though he didn’t seem all that interested in having friends, he found out you were a med student and just happened to need stitches. And then he needed help with a broken wrist. And then a black eye. And then, and then. 

It didn’t take you long to figure out he’s Red Hood, one of the newer vigilantes of Gotham City. Or, more accurately, it didn’t take you long to figure out he’s a vigilante. It did take a while to figure out Red Hood, but his eyes eventually gave it away. One look told you he’s cold on the inside. One look told you he’s a killer. 

(Plus you’ve seen the now-iconic leather jacket hanging in his entryway.) 

But though you can’t call his eyes warm now, they aren’t cold either. He regards you with a softness you’ve never seen before, or maybe just never noticed. You duck your head and turn back to the stitches. 

“If you pull these again, you’ll be sewing them up yourself,” you mutter. 

“Well, how else am I supposed to see you?” Jeno asks. “You only ever make time for me when I’m bleeding.” Despite his earlier complaints, he doesn’t flinch as you begin the sutures. In fact, he doesn’t show any sign that he’s even noticed. 

You roll your eyes. “That's because I took an oath. Something about saving lives, and something about ‘no matter how much I want to take a hot shower and pass out for the next twelve hours, I’m legally obligated to keep my weird neighbor alive when he shows up begging for help.’” 

“Who said anything about begging?” 

You pause, needle in hand. “I can leave you like this, you know. You can finish it yourself if you really want to.” And you know he can. You’ve seen the scars. So many scars, which tell the story he hasn’t told you: the oldest on his forearm, perfectly straight, the result of a real surgery; the thick ones on his back that look like they were never stitched up; the cut on his arm that looks like it tore through muscle yet was carefully stitched up; the scar on the back of his neck that looks like it should have broken his neck; and the angry red scar on his left knee that he said he stitched up himself a couple months before you moved in next door. 

You open your mouth to tell him he’s really on his own now, but Jeno says, “I guess I can beg.” 

You pause, then say. “That’s just terrible.” You have to look away so you continue the stitches. “You can do way better than that.” 

“Oh, YN, great saver of lives,” Jeno says, “please do me the great honor of stitching me up. Again.” 

You hum. “Better but still room for improvement.” 

“I would die without you. I would get on my knees if I could. Please, please, do not stop stitching me up.” 

You grin at him and almost get a smile back, his eyes truly warm. You take it as a win—or at least a vast improvement from how he was two months ago. You finish the stitches, sitting up straight. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll sit still long enough to let these actually heal, will you?” Not that you know how long that is. You noticed a while back that most of his injuries heal far faster than they should. He shouldn’t need to come to you for minor injuries yet he does, over and over again. It doesn’t make any sense, but as long as he keeps showing up on your couch, you’ll keep taking care of him. 

Jeno looks at you like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. Maybe this is it. He’ll finally tell you exactly how he gets his scars. How he became the Red Hood. 

Instead, he says, “Nah, probably not.” 

You sit back on the couch beside him, sighing. “I watched a seven hour surgery today, and you know what I learned?” 

“Hm?” He turns, cheek resting on the couch. For a moment you see the boy again, cast in gold from the afternoon sunlight. You can just picture his smile, the way his whole face melts into a gooey happiness. You blink and he’s gone. 

“Surgeons are dicks,” you blurt out, forgetting what you were going to say. “They never want to believe patients, and I get it, sometimes they’re annoying and think they know best, but this girl came in three months ago complaining about pain and Dr. Park called her a junkie. She came back in today and collapsed in the waiting room because he never actually examined her. 

“She was having a heart attack, and if he just listened the first time, it might have been salvageable, but the second one ripped her heart to shreds. Dr. Nakamoto said he’d never seen someone survive a heart that looked like that.” 

“But she did survive?” Jeno asks. 

“Yeah,” you say. “For now. She needs a heart transplant, though, so it’s a waiting game.” 

He nods. 

“I don’t get why Dr. Park or any of the other doctors couldn’t run a simple EKG. It’s not difficult and it would have saved her life but they took one look at her and assumed she was a junkie,” you say, “and I can’t even complain about it because Dr. Lee will just say some shit like ‘medical decisions are more difficult than you think’ because that’s easier than actually checking if his surgical team gives a shit about their patients beyond death rates.” 

You sigh. “The worst part is, they aren’t even bad doctors. They know the medicine, and the procedures they can do—it’s really incredible. I don’t know, sometimes I worry you can only be good at medicine or good with patients, and it’s impossible to be both.” 

“You really think that?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I’m just tired.” 

Jeno nods, letting silence settle between you. It’s far too comfortable to just sit with him like this, a peaceful solidarity you’ve only ever felt with him. You won’t give it meaning, won’t think about it any more than another afternoon on the couch together. That’s all this is. 

“I should take a shower,” you say. 

“I should get back to my place,” Jeno says. Neither of you move. 

.

.

Lee Jeno doesn’t consider himself to be consumed with rage, despite what the headlines say. Yeah, the mask is intense, but he doesn’t use it to incite fear among all those who look upon his face. He just needed to keep his face hidden from Bruce (and, as much as it pains him to admit Bruce might be right about anything, he can’t deny that keeping his identity hidden is ultimately the right move). 

He tosses the magazine on his desk. He’s got to stop reading the tabloids. They’re rotting his brain. But somehow they’re the only reliable source on the current crop of Joker’s little worshippers. Jeno still can’t believe it took him six months to realize the ads were calling for new recruits to the cult. 

He feels the pit of anger, deep in his stomach, writhing at the thought of that man. Revenge would be too kind. Jeno will take him down, no matter what. 

Maybe he’s a little consumed with rage. 

But he can’t ignore the recent distractions. He’s spent the past week sitting behind the computer doing whatever investigative work he can, any excuse to avoid pulling the stitches again. You really didn’t seem like you were joking about making him do it next time, and it was a bitch to stitch up his knee on his own. The angle alone would make his ribs pretty much impossible. 

Jeno sighs, tapping on his keyboard to bring the computer to life. Three monitors light up, the far left screen featuring the feeds of all the security cameras that show the apartment building that he very legally tapped into. The far right screen shows three different news feeds, local to Gotham, national news, and an international broadcast, volume off, subtitles on. The middle screen remains blank, ready for him to pull up whatever information he needs. 

Hunt Joker. Get revenge. 

It was simple when he first got his memories back. Those were his only goals. But then he had to train, become a better fighter, establish some sort of half-life in the city–which meant figuring out how to pay rent, which meant figuring out which billionaires he could reasonably steal from without them noticing. He admits it’s foolish to have Wayne Enterprises on the top of the list, but the bastard owes him. 

Six months passed by before he finally set this place and a couple other safe houses up. And then another six passed, and Jeno is still no closer to revenge. He is supposed to be better than before, but all he’s done is steal some lunch money from people too rich to notice and take down a couple men who liked to pick on the weak. He hates that he did more in tights than he’s done becoming Red Hood. 

He let his life become too simple. Day after day of hunting criminals and keeping them from hurting anyone ever again. It was freeing, no debriefings with idiots that would tell him that he should have acted differently—should have acted with more mercy. He makes his own decisions and no one is there to judge him. It’s proof he never needed anyone, even if hunting Joker is taking a little longer than it would if he had Wayne Enterprise resources. 

And then you showed up. 

He leans back in the chair, the joint squeaking. Jeno still doesn’t know what to make of you popping back into his life. He hasn’t been the kid you knew for so long he almost forgot about him. That kid died the day his parents yanked him out of school and moved to Gotham city. His parents worked back breaking shifts in one of the factories, while Jeno lasted a month in school before he realized he could stop going and no one would care. He learned how to survive Gotham quickly, and pretty soon he thrived. He barely even noticed when his parents died. 

You bring back memories of suburbs and eating ice cream before it could melt onto his hand. He remembers this one time you were walking back home after school and you tripped and skinned your knee. There was so much blood, Jeno freaked out and thought he’d have to carry you (which he definitely couldn’t do back then), but you just stood up and gritted your teeth and walked all the way back. It didn’t surprise him at all to find out you’re a doctor now, not when you were always so hardcore. 

It came in handy pretty quick, too, though he’ll at least admit to himself that his powers probably won’t let him die. It just turned into a routine for him, a nice way to end his day (though his work “day” generally ends at dawn). 

But nice is for a boy that doesn’t exist, not for the justice he seeks. He can’t keep pretending to be someone he isn’t, and someone as smart as you can’t keep pretending to believe his lies. He focuses on the security feed, watching a dark sedan roll past. 

He can keep avoiding you. It would be easy to clear out of here, especially when you spend most of your time at the hospital anyways. He could do it now—you’re in the middle of one of those endless shifts where you sleep in the hospital. You complain so much about being exhausted that he doubts you’d notice that he left, at least for a month. You’re not friends with him, Jeno doesn’t have friends. You just took an oath to save lives, and he forced you to save him. You wouldn’t even miss him. 

But even as he contemplates it, he knows he can’t do it to you again. Even if all you are is the person that patches him up every other night, you deserve some explanation. A goodbye. 

Rain begins to fall, slow at first, then a steady patter, the gentle wind strong enough to send the rain against the window. 

He hears the truck engine rattling down the street before it finally comes into view on the top left camera. Strange, the bottom right camera covers the opposite side of the street but shows nothing. He keeps an eye on the truck, which rattles by, frowning at the bottom right screen. 

Not just an empty street. Though the sky is dark in the background, the pavement and sidewalk are still dry. Jeno curses, getting to his feet and grabbing his belt. He loads the pistols, clipping on the extra ammo to his belt alongside the gadgets while keeping an eye on the other cameras, trying to see if he missed anything else. Two more screens play on a loop, the transition more obvious with the rain. He pulls on the mask, grateful he made it waterproof. His jacket is last, riddled with holes he never had the time to sew back together. He keeps his knife in his right hand, checking the cameras a final time—all showing empty loops—before ducking out the window onto the fire escape. 

The jacket is thick enough to keep the rain from actually soaking him, but the cold seeps through. It brings an ache to his bones, an empty feeling like his body doesn’t quite belong to him. He presses a hand to his heart, the pressure bringing a new ache that reminds his body his heart still beats. 

He jumps the rest of the way down from the fire escape, landing in a puddle of water that splashes beneath his boots, sending water up to his knees. He needs eyes on the situation. Ideally he’d go to the roof, but there’s too much daylight to be out in the open like that, turning him into a sitting duck. He opts for the alleyways instead, looping around the back of the building to where he can see the street without being seen. Whatever is going on, he needs to drive the action away from his place. 

He scans the road, settling on the dark sedan parked in front of the corner store. It wasn’t on the security camera feed when he left, and as he watches, two tall men with dark hoods pulled over their heads slip out of the back seat. They approach the apartment building with the confidence of residents, though Jeno can tell from here they don’t. He memorized his neighbors a long time ago, but even if he hadn’t, Jeno has seen enough gangs to know bruisers when he sees them. 

But who do they belong to? Who knows where Jeno lives? The people he’s been skimming from? He hasn’t been stealing enough to warrant this kind of a response. No, his life as Jeno couldn’t have attracted these men. 

So it’s Red Hood? Anyone that knows about Red Hood should know better than to send two goons that could be taken out this easily. Jeno switches the knife to his left hand and pulls out a pistol, turning off the safety and cocking the hammer. 

Before he can squeeze the trigger, he senses something, the rain behind him falling on something other than pavement. He drops to the ground and rolls until his back is against the wall and a dumpster protects his front. A bullet buries itself into the pavement where he had been standing a moment ago. 

He moves again, vaulting over the dumpster, catching the man holding a pistol at the end of the alley by surprise. Still in the air, Jeno squeezes the trigger, hitting the man in the stomach. He lands on his feet and crosses the alley in two quick strides to kick the man as he falls. His hood falls off as he lands on his back, revealing an assuming face. Like the other men, Jeno has never seen him before. 

Jeno kicks the gun out of his hand and snatches it from the pavement, slipping it into one of the extra holsters on his belt. He glances between the front of the building and the back. The two goons out front had to have heard the noise, which means he doesn’t have much time before they make it to the alley. But he’s got no idea what might be around the other corner. 

He crosses back to the dumpster, keeping an eye on the man behind him as he waits. The man at the other end groans but doesn’t call out for his buddies. Rain overflows from the gutters, falling in spurts rather than droplets. Thirty seconds pass and Jeno only hears the rain. Are they waiting for him? Circling around to trap him between them? 

He adjusts his grip on the knife in his left hand, holding it so that the blade is nearest to his pinky finger, his thumb wrapped around the bottom of the base. He keeps the blade facing out, stepping to the front of the apartment building. Instinct guides him to the left, giving him enough time to block the bat with his right arm, sending a shock up his shoulder. 

He steps closer, letting the man—one of the goons from before—pull the bat back for another swing. Jeno swings the knife up, catching the man’s jacket but missing blood. He drops the knife and twists, turning so that the man is behind him and ducking to catch the arm still swinging the bat and flip the man over using his momentum and the bigger man’s weight. He hits the pavement hard, sending water splashing all over Jeno.  

The second man catches up from the other end of the alley, firing wild shots that don’t come close to hitting him but force Jeno to step back. Jeno pulls a throwing star from his belt, sending it cutting through the air to knock the gun out of the man’s hand. With his right hand, he takes a shot at the man struggling to get off the ground, catching him in the back. He falls again and this time he doesn’t move. 

The second man charges out of the alley, the throwing star gone from his hand, though it still drips blood. He has a crowbar in his other hand, like these guys want to be stereotypical goons. He moves about as well as the other man, all power and zero agility. Jeno dodges him easily, letting him take a couple swings before he shoots him in the head. The man drops a couple steps away from his buddy. 

Jeno glances around but the dark sedan has left. No one else ventures out to investigate—probably because Jeno still holds a gun. He retrieves his knife and the throwing star, going back to the first man that he shot who still groans at the end of the alley. Blood mixes with the iridescent swirls of run off, red overtaking the blended greens and purples. 

He kneels on his chest. Rain falls on the back of his mask“Who sent you?” 

The man gurgles a laugh. “What’s it to you?” 

Jeno pushes his knee a little harder. “I asked you a question.” 

“Fuck you,” the man says. He tries to spit but the mix of blood and saliva ends up splattering on his own face. The man suddenly turns, moving with more strength than Jeno expected. At the same time that Jeno points his gun at the man’s head, the man pulls a gun from inside his coat, pressing it straight into Jeno’s stomach. Neither of them hesitate to pull the trigger. 

.

.

Caution tape is up in the alley next to your apartment, but the rain seems to have washed away any sign of the crimes committed. It pounds into your head relentlessly, soaking you through your coat. 

Though you’ve been living here less than a year, Gotham’s reputation has held true. Working in the hospital has given you even more experience with the diversity of types of people the city attracts—good, bad, and everything in between. You even worked on a guy who apparently turned out to be a Batman villain a few months ago. 

Between working at the hospital and living in the city in general, you’ve gotten used to dissociating crime scenes with the sense that you’re actually in danger. Besides, you live next door to a vigilante. Who are you to say this is even a crime scene?

You don’t think anything of it until you open your apartment door and catch the unfortunately familiar scent of blood. Wind and rain crash through the open window, pulling your stumbling feet forward to find the source of the blood. 

Jeno didn’t make it to the couch this time. He lies just inside the windowsill, barely sitting up with his back against the wall. One hand clutches his stomach, red blood spilling over the black shirt. His head hangs low, hair soaked by that rain that still falls on him through the open window. The red mask sits in his other hand.

For a scary moment, he doesn’t move. 

You drop your bag, rushing to him. You can’t stop your voice from shaking. “Jeno?” 

He groans when you shake his arm. “Ow.” 

You curse as you slam the window shut and lay him out on his side, keeping his hand over the wound until you can get a better gauge on what it is. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” 

He doesn’t answer, only groaning as you try to reach your medical bag while keeping pressure on the wound. You finally get it to the ground, pulling out the scissors and slicing through the shirt so that you can see the wound—a gaping hole framed by bullet fragments  where his stomach should be. 

“Fuck.” He needs a hospital, a surgeon that’s done more than assist on an appendectomy, but you can’t bring yourself to dial 911. It would bring too many questions on Jeno, who has clearly avoided hospitals for a reason. And he came to you. He trusts you, even if you don’t trust yourself. You have to save him, if only because you’re the only option. 

 You set out the equipment, spraying them with alcohol to sterilize them and get ready to cut. 

“Don’t you dare die,” you say, gripping the scalpel. 

“Already did that,” Jeno mutters, eyes fluttering. “Didn’t agree with me.” 

You gape at him but he seems to have slipped back into unconsciousness. You force yourself to look back at the bullet hole. You can only yell at him if he’s alive, so you push away the thoughts and get to work, replacing any insecurity with arrogant belief that you know what you’re doing.

.

.

Death is nothing like falling asleep. For one thing, it fucking hurts. Jeno supposes the method might have played a factor. He used to think getting shot point blank might be better than being beaten for hours and then blown up (he now has the experience to decidedly answer that question: marginally better). But death itself. It hurts. 

And resurrection? All the pain of death with none of the peaceful end. Jeno remembers crawling out of the ground, forcing his muscles to work even though his body still suffered from the wounds that killed him. 

But it was the pain that forced him to keep moving, the pain that still fuels him now, a never ending ache deep inside that no time will heal. 

Joker may have held the bat, but Batman didn’t stop him. He never stopped him. Jeno remembers the look on his face, the shadowed glimpse of it that he could see. He remembers dying, hearing the Joker cackle, and Batman calling out to him—calling him Robin. 

He remembers the pain. Pain he can live with. Pain makes him who he is. He can’t let go of the pain, not when it is all that he is. 

But the pain ebbs away when you’re around. And for the life of him he can’t convince himself that it’s a bad thing.  

.

.

You manage to get Jeno into your bed after you finish patching him up—which was six grueling hours of pulling bullet fragments from the hole and praying he didn’t bleed out. No one should have been able to survive the amount of blood that seeped out of him but by some miracle (though maybe it’s a curse), his heart keeps pumping. 

He woke up just long enough to let you sling an arm under his shoulders and half carry him into the bed. You spent the entire time praying he wouldn’t pull apart the stitches and bleed out for real, but it seems like luck was finally on your side. 

You should get up. You should clean up the blood, or at least wash it from your hands. You can only find the energy to drag your armchair next to the bed and sit beside him. His chest rises and falls with even breaths. 

Still alive, for now. 

He mumbles again, voice too low to make out any words. His eyes flutter but remain closed. Does a man like him dream? 

“What happened to you?” Your voice cracks. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t show any sign that he can hear you. “You disappear for weeks at a time. You rarely show up when you aren’t bleeding. But you never talk about it, and you don’t smile anymore. I don’t think I know you anymore. I don’t know if I ever did.” 

You managed to hold back your tears, push all the emotions away to keep him alive but they come flooding back now. Tears spill over as you watch him breathe. 

“Your heart keeps beating but are you really alive?” You ask. 

He doesn’t answer. 

.

.

You moved to Gotham in August. The heat was so bad that crime rates were down–making it miserable to carry box after box up two flights of stairs since the building didn't have an elevator. You’d only been here twice before, both times on school trips, never on your own. 

But your friends all live back in your college town, and your parents were busy dealing with a lawsuit against your neighbor for the mailbox war, so you were stuck moving on your own—which wasn’t all that terrible since the apartment came half furnished. Still, you had to figure out a way to get a mattress up the stairs, along with a car full of clothes and all the rest of your belongings. Between the heat and the prospect of stairs, you weren’t exactly stoked about living in the city. 

Two trips had you wheezing for air, leaning outside your door to catch your breath. The door to the apartment next to yours swung open. You hoped someone wasn’t already complaining about the noise you were making. Instead a tall, broad shouldered man stepped out, wearing a simple black t-shirt and cargo pants. 

He turned around, revealing cold eyes and a face that looked like it spent most of its time frowning. But behind it all something familiar called to you, buried deep behind the bitter front. You remembered a boy who cried because he stubbed his toes, a boy who would fight you to make a wish on every dandelion that lined the sidewalk on the walk home. 

He froze, a tiny frown in his brow. “YN?” 

“Jeno?” 

You set down the tote, stepping around it to get a better look at him. Your eyes jumped between his, trying to decipher the hardness behind them. Though it had been over ten years, you still thought of the sweet boy who lived next door often, always wondering what happened to him. 

It seemed that the years had not been kind to him. Though he grew taller and filled out considerably, he had an emptiness behind his eyes, the kind that comes from too much hurt. He looked like it had been years since he last smiled. He barely seemed to react to you, guarding every expression as if you could be some sort of threat. 

“You’re taller,” you finally said. 

“It has been a while,” he said. 

“I think ten years qualifies as more than a while,” you said. 

He just nodded. “You’ve moved here?” 

“Just today,” you said, gesturing to the boxes. 

“You’re on your own?” 

You shrugged. “My parents are bringing a load later in the week, so it’s really not that much stuff.” You paused but Jeno didn’t run away, so you figured it was safe to ask, “How long have you been living here?” 

“In Gotham since I left.” He pauses, eyes flicking between yours. For a moment you think he’ll tell you everything. Then he says, “Here specifically, only about six months.” 

You should have asked. Maybe it would have made things simpler, maybe you wouldn’t be dancing between fantasy and reality, balancing a tedious act of ignorance. 

Instead you asked him if he’d help you move your mattress and what the pizza delivery situation was like. 

.

.

Jeno wakes up sometime in the middle of the night. You snap awake from your dozing as he shifts. 

“Sit still,” you say. “I don’t think I can put you back together if you fall apart this time.” 

Jeno blinks. Even in the darkness you can see eyes are still glazed over in confusion. 

“You were shot,” you explain. “Point blank from the looks of it.” 

“Ah,” he says. His soft voice carries in the quiet hours of the night. “That’s what hurts.” 

“Never make me do that again.” Your voice shakes despite your best attempts to steady it. The tears from earlier try to weasel their way back out of your eyes. “You should have died.” 

He reaches out, except he really must be feeling weak because his hand barely makes it to the edge of the bed before it hangs limp. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t want to get shot.” 

You blink back the tears as anger courses its way through you. “I don’t think anybody gets shot on purpose,” you snap. 

He tries to snort but it ends up sounding like a short exhale through his nose. “Fair enough.” 

“I’m not a good enough doctor for all of this,” you say. “This isn’t a hospital. I don’t have sterile equipment, or a blood bank, or an extra set of hands, I mean, if anything worse happens, you could be in real danger and there’s nothing I could do about it, and I can’t—” You pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t like when I have to admit I can’t do something, but with you, it feels like that’s all I can do.” 

“You saved my life,” he says. “It doesn’t really feel like you couldn’t do it.” 

“It was a pretty fucking close call,” you say. “Gunshot wounds aren’t particularly easy, and you had to go and get shot in the stomach.” 

He shifts, hand running over his torso beneath the blanket. “I didn't pop the stitches, though,” he says. “I gotta get some points for that.” 

You glare at him, though he probably can’t see it in the darkness. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m trying to be serious.” 

“So am I,” he says, “it was not easy. I sat still for two full days. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve done that?” 

Ask. Get a real answer from him. Stop shying away from who he really is. You have to talk about it. 

“Well, get used to it,” you say. “You’re staying in this bed. I don’t care if I have to tie you down.” 

Jeno actually smiles. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen that smile, softening the hard lines and curling his face into something sweet. “I could be into that,” he jokes. 

And maybe it’s because there are blood stains on your shirt that will never come out and you haven’t slept in about thirty hours and you came far too close to losing the only person you really care about, but you laugh. “Just shut up and get some rest.” 

“You should rest too,” Jeno says. “You look terrible.” 

“Yeah, well it’s your fault,” you say. 

He pauses then says, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Well, don’t apologize.” You sniffle. “It’s harder to be mad at you.” 

He smiles again, and you can’t even pretend to be mad at him anymore. It’s too hard on your heart, which has been through far too much for any more lies. You smile back at him. 

.

.

After a day, Jeno can walk around on his own. You called out sick from work, despite his insistence that he’d be fine on his own. He had to bribe you to convince you to sleep on the couch, since you would barely let him go to the bathroom, let alone move back to his own room. He won’t complain too much, though. He forgot how nice it is to wake up to someone. 

He sways on his feet, holding a hand up to stop you from helping him. He forces even breaths, determined to make it to the couch without any help. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat for the thousandth time. 

“I told you I’m fine,” he grunts. Two more steps and he’s there. He takes a deep breath, ignoring the way his entire lower half screams at him. One more step. 

He collapses onto the couch more than anything, but he makes it. He lets himself slouch a little, head resting against the back of the couch. How many times has he sat here like this? So many hours spent waiting for you, watching the sun inch across the room. But most of the time it’s been like this—you at the opposite end, always a cushion separating him from you. 

The fake wooden floor is stained deep red, pooled around where he laid while you worked on him. He wonders what would have happened if you weren’t there. When he first came back he thought he was invincible, and his healing has saved him from a lot–but he’s never truly put it to the test. Could he have survived without you? 

His mask still sits where he pulled it off underneath the windowsill. He peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, your head turned towards it. Say something. 

You stare at the mask, clearing your throat. “I hope you didn’t pay too much for that shitty costume,” you say. “You don’t even have armor.” 

“YN,” Jeno says but you refuse to look at him. 

“Seriously, walking around dressed like a vigilante is going to get you killed.” 

“YN. You know it’s not a costume.” 

“What, you made it yourself? That’s even worse, I mean, it’s one thing to dress up like these guys but trying to be one of them, that’s just plain stupid. I can’t believe—”

Jeno shifts to the center cushion and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist, forcing you to look at him. “I am one of them.” 

He lets go of your wrist and watches you process the words, trying to figure out any other meaning. Your eyes dart between his, panicked and desperate. For whatever reason, you don’t want to admit it, and it’s been fine. But Jeno is tired of feeling like he’s lying to you. 

“I know,” you finally say, sighing and looking away again. He hates that it feels like he’s let you down. But he won’t apologize for who he is. 

“Why didn’t you ever ask about what happened after I left?” He asks. 

You’re quiet for a long moment. “I think I was afraid. It didn’t take long to realize what you were—or at least that you were wrapped up in something twisted—and then it was obvious whatever happened to you here wasn’t good, and I wasn’t sure if I should know that.” 

Jeno nods, gaze traveling to the window. He can see some scattered rooftops, mostly shorter residential buildings of the area. Farther in the distance, skyscrapers stick out. He’s spent more years in this city than not, grown to love it like family. But unlike family, the city doesn’t love him back. It’s not capable of it. No matter how much of his blood lines the streets, Jeno will only ever be one of millions that call the city home. 

Yes, what happened to him here wasn’t good. But it wasn’t all bad, and it’s not over yet. He won’t give up on the city just because of the past. 

And there’s you now. He has these moments where his heart beats so hard it feels like his chest will burst in the good way. He no longer ceases to exist when he isn’t fighting. Jeno worms his way back into reality, not separate from Red Hood, but no longer overshadowed by him. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think these past couple weeks,” Jeno says. “Time to figure out what I want. For the longest time, it was revenge. It didn’t matter how I got it, how many people had to die. I would avenge myself no matter what. 

“And then you came into my life, and I would catch myself wondering what would have happened if I could have stayed back then, how different my life would be. I even wondered what would happen if I took off the mask, permanently. 

“But this is all I know how to be, and, I think even when I get my revenge, I won’t be able to leave this life behind.” He pauses, tilting his head away from the window and waiting until you meet his eyes.  “I don’t want to die again. I don't want to live this miserable half life where all I think about is getting back at the people who wronged me. I want to live, and when I’m with you, I feel alive.” 

You stare at him, eyes adorably wide. Maybe he's been a little too good at keeping his feelings hidden. It’s alright. He can wait for you to work it all out. It’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. 

“I like being with you,” he says. “I like who I am when I’m around you, and I like you. I mean, you’re stubborn and you always have to have the last word.” He smiles at your bewildered eyes. “But you care so much, not just about me, or your patients, but about everyone, and everything.

“Like your little houseplants that keep dying no matter what you do. I mean, it’s hilarious that you can save my life but you can’t keep a succulent alive. Or the way you talk about the street cats, and even the rats. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had sympathy for the cockroaches.” He finally manages to cut the rambling off. For a long moment you’re too quiet, and he begins to feel the inklings of fear worming its way up his stomach. 

“I don’t know about that,” you finally say, voice soft. “I think they might be radioactive here.” 

He waits but you don’t say anything else. He knows he shouldn’t ask, that he already has his answer. Still, he can’t help it. “That’s all you have to say?” 

Your eyes slide to the floor. “I… I don’t know.” 

“You feel something,” he says, reaching a tentative hand out to rest on top of yours. You freeze beneath him, eyes darting between his hand and his eyes like you can’t decide which you’re scared of more. 

“Tell me I’m not crazy,” he pleads. “Tell me you feel at least a fraction of the way I do.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “I do care about you,” you begin slowly, “I care about you too much. You have this life, and I know you need it, and I want you to have everything that you want, I just don’t think I can be a part of it when it inevitably destroys you.” 

He squeezes your hand. “It won’t destroy me,” he says, “I won’t let it.” 

“You died.” Your voice shakes. “I don’t think I could handle that.” 

“I won’t let that happen again!” Jeno says. “Things are different now, I’m not the same person I was when I died.” 

He won’t die again. He’s sure of it, not just because he’s learned from his mistakes but because he has something else to live for now. He has more than the family that pushed him to be more than he could, he has his own life, goals outside of revenge. But grounding it all is you, the first person he thinks of, always. He won’t die when it would hurt you this much. 

“Even if you could promise that, it’s not enough.” You look away from him. “I don’t want to die either, and it seems like that’s inevitable around people like you. The loved ones always die first.” 

He opens his mouth to say he would never let that happen but the words die in his throat. He can’t guarantee that, and one look at you proves even if he could it wouldn’t matter. It’s not enough. 

“I think I love you,” he whispers. 

You smile sadly. “I think I love you too. I wish it was that simple.” 

He sighs, resting his head against the couch cushion. “I don’t suppose supreme embarrassment is a good enough reason to let me go back to my own apartment, is it?” 

He watches you purse your lips out of the corner of his eye. He pretends not to see the tears threatening to spill over. 

“I have to go back to work,” you say, voice steady. “I suppose sleeping in your own bed won’t be a problem.” You turn stern. “As long as you swear you’ll actually rest.” 

Jeno winces. “I don’t think I can do anything else.” 

“And yet you will,” you say. Jeno knows it’s worthless to argue, especially when he really can’t promise he won’t do anything. He goes where he’s needed. 

But until then, he’s perfectly happy to wallow in the embarrassment of getting shot and shot down. 

.

.

(please enjoy a brief interlude until i figure out how to fix thing shitshow)

The city always smells cleaner after a good storm. You enjoy walking to work, though the piercing wail of sirens makes it harder to appreciate the way the city almost smells like spring. Green has returned, sprouts of grass and early flowers blooming. You can walk and breathe and pretend like your heart isn’t dragging along behind you. 

Jeno haunts you. You dared to check on him before leaving and found he has reverted back to the one word answers and solemn expressions, a shadow of a person. He barely even looks at you, and you can’t even blame him. You’ve done more than break his heart; you can bear the consequences of doing so. 

Because it doesn’t really matter. He will keep getting hurt and you will keep patching him up. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. 

Even if you can’t stop dreaming about him. 

An ambulance wails past, turning into the hospital. You try your best to push the Jeno thoughts away, preparing yourself for the inevitably grueling day. You push open the doors, the security guards now familiar. You smile at them, the movement of the muscles feeling foreign, and take the elevators to the fourth floor, heading to the locker room for the surgical interns. 

You’ve barely changed into your scrubs when Jaemin appears. 

“Wow,” he says, biting into an apple. “You look terrible.” 

You glare at him. “You look worse. How long have you been here?” 

He shrugs. “I got a whole six hours of sleep in an on-call room, so I’m actually doing great. You, on the other hand, look like you spent the two days fighting guys who wear pinstripe suits and call their henchmen goons.” He eyes you for a moment. “And you lost.” 

“That’s pretty much how I feel,” you say. “Though I still think you act like the criminals in this city are cartoon villains.” 

“The aquarium was attacked by a crocodile-man last week and the guy that stopped him cosplays as a bat,” Jaemin says. “I don’t know how you take any of this seriously.” 

It helps when you have a melodramatic version of the bat guy bleeding out on your couch every other week, you think. 

“I don’t know, being afraid for my life helps,” you say. 

“Oh the crocodile guy just wanted to free his people,” Jaemin waves his hand. “He wasn’t going to hurt anyone.” 

“His name is Killer Croc.” 

“Semantics,” Jaemin says. “But seriously, you’re okay? Nothing happened?”  

You shrug. “I just haven’t gotten enough sleep, I’ll be fine. Why are you acting so weird?” 

“You haven’t heard?” Jaemin asks. “Dr. Moon and Dr. Jung were both attacked three days ago. Dr. Jung is in the ICU and Dr. Moon is still missing.” 

“What happened?” 

“Police don’t really know yet,” Jaemin says, “but it’s connected. These big guys in suits with these weird black hoods were seen around both of their places before the attacks. They found Jaehyun in his apartment, beaten pretty bad, he’s been in a coma ever since.” 

“Wow,” you say. You’ve worked with both of them quite a bit. You spent a week learning about skin grafts with Dr. Moon, a star plastic surgeon. Jaehyun gave you an extra shower curtain when you mentioned you tore yours when a cockroach crawled up your shower brain while you were in it. They’re both good, nice people, not the type to get involved in trouble—definitely not trouble like this. 

“Is Jaehyun going to be okay?” 

Jaemin purses his lips and shrugs. “Still not sure. He had some pretty serious injuries, most of which were patched up but apparently he had some bad head trauma. They called in the Lee Taemin from Central.” 

“You didn’t shit your pants meeting your hero?” 

“YN,” Jaemin says sharply, “a good friend of mine was in the hospital, and the best neurosurgeon in the country, the guy I will one day convince to be my mentor, was called in to save his life. Of course I was shitting my pants.” 

“Did you get to meet him?” 

“I thought it would be weird to introduce myself to him, but I did happen to visit Jaehyun while he stopped by, and happened to mention I wanted to pursue neuro when he asked.” 

“And?” 

“And he said it was a smart decision. Or said only the smartest thrive. He’s very confusing.” 

“So basically you’re obsessed?” 

“Yep.” 

You lean against the metal lockers, letting the cold press against the back of your neck. You think about Jaehyun, hooked up to machines with a whole team of doctors, including a star doctor, all working to keep him alive. How long will it be before that’s Jeno, except no machines, no team, just you? How long before you won’t be enough? 

.

.

Jeno has discovered all there is to know about his ceiling. There’s eleven cracks, tiny fissures in the paint that’s at least ten years old. The color is off white, not cream, though in the corner above the door, they did a touch up with a paint that has slightly more blue. He can tell what time it is from the angle of the light coming through the window. 

He’s beginning to run out of things to learn. 

He misses you, so much. He wonders what your ceiling looks like, if it’s got its own little galaxy of cracks. He misses sitting on your couch, knowing that he’d see you soon. 

 He can’t remember the last time he got out of bed, and he can’t even blame it on the gunshot wound. He's not fully recovered, but he doesn’t need to lay in bed all day. He should be up and moving, keeping himself in shape, or at least hunting down the guys who attacked him. All he managed to do was set up an alert with the license plate of the car he saw, feeding it through all the security cameras he could get access to. 

But otherwise he lays in bed and stares at the ceiling. 

Getting this dejected over a rejection makes him feel like a teenager—not that he ever went through this during his teenage years. He can put on the mask and be Red Hood, but Jeno? He doesn’t know how to be Jeno alone, he doesn’t want to learn. He had his parents when he was younger, then Bruce, and Dick, and the family that began to grow among them. Despite all he used to whine, he’s never truly been alone. 

Will he be alone now? Will Jeno even exist without the people around him to keep him going? Or will he truly become Red Hood, letting the man behind the mask cease to exist. 

He knows what Bruce would say. The mask can’t exist without the man. But Bruce is the reason he put a mask on in the first place. He can philosophize all day long, it’s his fault Jeno ever died. He doesn’t have to listen to the man’s words. 

Jeno rests his hand over the wound. He hardly feels the ridge where the stitches are. He wonders how the wound will scar. 

It doesn’t make any sense but even though his body heals unnaturally fast, the scars remain. It’s like his body remembers dying and wants to remind him—even though he came back once and he’s stronger than ever before—he’s still human. 

And there’s nothing more human than a broken heart. He should be grateful it’s only metaphorical. 

Jeno sighs. The worst part is he knows how dramatic he’s being. But it’s only been 28 hours. He can allow himself a little bit of time for the dramatics. Bruce takes like a month off when a civilian dies under his watch. 

He pulls his blanket closer, wondering if it’s too far to put on some music—something loud, maybe. 

Instead he hears a ding, a notification from his computer. He sits up a little too fast, feeling a tug on his stitches, though they don’t fall apart. 

He can’t spare too much thought to them, not when his screen lights up with feed from a security camera, zoomed in to show the license plate of a dark sedan, the numbers he remembers. It rolls past, camera shifting down the block as Jeno drops into his chair, typing rapidly until the screen zooms out. The larger screen reveals the sedan is one of many, traveling in a line together. 

He sets up the second monitor to plot their movements across the city, a bright red line tracing the few turns they take. 

The windows of each car are tinted, concealing those within. But, with his previous encounter, it’s safe to assume there’s plenty of hired muscle in the six cars. It could be anywhere between fifteen and thirty men, headed this way. 

He watches them draw closer, tapping his finger on the desk. They caught him by surprise last time. On a good day, he wouldn’t sweat odds this bad, but it’s not a good day. He can still feel his insides healing. 

It’ll be a tough fight, but he’s planned for this. He’ll rig the place, take down as many as he can and get to one of the other safe houses. 

The Jeno that lived here will disappear. And it will be for the best. 

He changes into his suit, moving as fast as he can without hurting himself. He stuffs as many weapons as he can into his pockets, his belt weighing extra heavy around his waist. 

Then he gets to work on the bomb. A smaller explosive, more of a popper than a true bomb, but enough to take out his computer and all of the evidence he’s left behind here. 

He wonders if the police will come. Will they question you? Surely someone has noticed he spends a lot of time with you. You’d never give him up, but would you defend him? Would you go on television, tell the world Red Hood is just a man? You’d look good on television. 

You wouldn’t though. You wouldn’t say a word, not to the cops, not to anyone. 

He’s really going to miss you. 

He checks the map. Still five blocks away. Except… The cameras first picked up the sedans in the upper east part of the city, by the Sprang River. They mostly traveled west from there, they’re still north of him. 

They stop at a light, just two blocks away. He watches, waiting for them to turn. 

The sedans roll straight ahead, passing the apartment. He frowns, staring at the screen but the cars keep going, one block, two, and then they pull to a stop. 

Jeno curses, grabbing the keys to his bike. It was never about him. 

.

.

The sun peeks through the windows of the hospital, the only sign time passes. The setting sun casts the parking lot in gold, making even the ugliest cars shine. You pause to peek outside, for once not in a rush. You have to scrub in with Dr. Qian in twenty minutes, but until then, you have a rare moment of freedom. 

Because you’re standing at the window, you see the exact moment the cars pull up. They form a line, like a row of beetles, stopping in front of the entrance, blocking the parked cars. As soon as they roll to a stop, the doors fly open, men streaming out all wearing black hoods. They line up in front of the car closest to the entrance, whose doors had remained closed since stopping. The driver exits first, another hooded man, though considerably smaller than the rest. He opens the door to the backseat, head bowed low. 

The man in the backseat takes his time. Pale hands peek out of the carefully fitted suit, the only open skin you can see. He steps out from the car and the line of men bend into sharp bows. He closes the door and you finally get a full look at him: from the suit to his shoes, he wears all black, but most striking is the black mask that covers his face. It melts into his suit, keeping every inch of his skin hidden save for his hands. 

He must say something, because the men straighten and vanish from your view, streaming into the hospital. 

Is it too late to alert security? There has to be twenty men, and with how Jaehyun looks, you doubt they’ll be able to hold them off. 911, then? It’ll take the cops forever to respond, and it’s too late. They’re already here. 

You could call him. He’d come. 

Despite all your instincts screaming at you to hide, you turn around. The lobby is packed with the final rush of visitors, and 9-to-5 staff getting ready to leave for the day. It’ll be safer to pack in with them than be caught on your own, and maybe you can warn security before mass panic breaks out. You rush down the hall to the large open space in the front of the hospital. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, but everything feels too normal. A father holds his child’s hand as they walk to the bathroom. A nurse whispers furiously into her phone. An elderly couple hold hands, clipboards to the side of them. You scan the small crowd, looking for a security guard. 

Instead you find a brute of a man, black hood tipping back as he raises a gun above his head and fires it a couple times. 

“Everybody quiet!” He growls. “On the ground!” 

You drop into a squat, hands automatically coming above your head as screams echo. Someone yanks on your coat, knocking you off balance. Your heart nearly stops but it’s just Jaemin pulling you to sit beside him with a wall at your back instead of the open hallway. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. You slide into a seated position, back against the wall. Jaemin crouches next to you, keeping one hand on the wheelchair of the patient he must have been with before all of this. You peek at him and recognize him as Yoon Jeonghan, the guy that got hit by a truck while biking. He looks like he’s trying to decide if he’s included in the “on the ground” order. 

The goons pick on a couple people, shoving them to the ground. 

“Hands above your heads!” One of them orders, pointing his gun at random. You raise your hands again, Jaemin following more reluctantly. 

Ten minutes pass as goons escort people from all over the hospital, the lobby quickly becoming packed. Half the patients are in wheelchairs, clinging to IV drips while the doctors and nurses glare at the men. Finally, it seems they have collected everybody, and a quiet tension falls over the room. 

Then the man in the black mask strolls in. 

“What’s the saying?” He asks, muffled voice carrying in the open space. “If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.” He clasps his hands behind his back, strolling along, peeking at the cowering hostages. 

“He doesn’t have a pinstripe suit,” Jaemin whispers. 

“I don’t even think he’ll call the henchmen goons,” you whisper back. 

Jaemin shakes his head. He’d probably tsk if he didn’t think it would get you both killed. 

“I bet they’ll still beat us up,” you whisper. 

“If you don’t shut up, they definitely will,” Jeonghan mutters. 

Jaemin rolls his eyes and makes a face at you. You bite back a smile. You’ve tempted fate enough. 

“The name you all will know me by is Black Mask,” he announces. 

This time you can’t help the smile, turning away from Jaemin to prevent yourself from laughing out loud. Even Jeonghan mutters, “Very creative.” 

“I have a list, you see,” Black Mask continues, “people that owe me. They know what they’ve done. I promise if your name is not on that list and you don’t make a fuss, no harm will come to you. I’m a reasonable man.” 

Reasonable men don’t play dress up and shoot up hospitals, but you figure he’s due for a dramatic speech. At least he’s explaining why he’s here. 

Black Mask pauses in front of one of the nurses—Shotaro, a good nurse who you’ve worked with several times. He grabs him by the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the floor. 

“This one,” Black Mask announces, waving at his goons to pick Shotaro up. They half drag him away as Black Mask continues to make his way through the crowd. 

“This is more efficient, you know,” he says. “I’ve tried other methods, but there were some complications. So, I thought to myself, if you’re all in one place, why not just go to the source?” He points at another nurse, Sehun, but Dr. Bae steps in front of him. Black Mask pauses, tilting his head to peer at her before gesturing to the goons to drag them both away. Dr. Bae puts up a fight, trying to twist out of their grip, but one of the men tosses her over his shoulder and carries her out. Sehun follows, stumbling behind. 

Dr. Moon, Jaehyun, Shotaro, Sehun, and Dr. Bae, though it seems like she wasn’t originally a target. All good, hard workers, not the type to make mistakes, definitely not collectively. You watch as Black Mask creeps closer and closer. 

You’ve worked with all of them. Only a few months ago, a case of a man with terrible burns on his face. Your blood runs cold as Black Mask stops in front of you. You stand up, a heartbeat before he points. 

“You,” Black Mask says, venom seeping into his voice. “You owe me.” 

“I remember you,” you say, keeping your voice soft. 

“You remember what you did to me,” he says. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, “and neither did anyone else in this hospital.” 

He raises a hand and smacks you, and before you can react, two of his men grab your arms, dragging you away whether your feet move or not. You try to think of something witty or smart, but all you can think is how much you don’t want to die. 

They take you to the stairs, carrying you up two flights of stairs before depositing you in an empty patient room. One of the men stays with you, guarding the door, while the other vanishes. 

You glare at the man, face stinging. Jeno would tell you not to provoke a psychopath. 

But Jeno’s not here. You shouldn’t want him to be, because even if he could be here, he would only get himself hurt, and you won’t be responsible for causing him any more pain. 

He said he loved you, even after all he’s been through. He wasn’t afraid. 

You don’t want Jeno here, not to save the day. But it’d be nice to apologize to him. And if there was only one person you could say goodbye to before you died, you’d want it to be Jeno. 

Maybe you do want Jeno to save the day. Just so you can apologize. Just so you can tell him you were wrong. Just so you can finally admit the truth. 

.

Jeno’s bike screeches to a stop a block away from the hospital. He parks it in an alley, covering it with a tarp and trusting that the locks will prevent anyone from stealing it. He hopes he’s swiped it from the impound lot enough times for the police to leave it alone too. 

He climbs to the roof of the nearest building, moving painfully slow, between the pull of the stitches and the exhaustion of healing such a large wound. But from here he can see the line of black cars in front of the hospital, the setting sun reflecting on the metal, making it difficult to see. He switches to infrared, the mask buzzing a couple times before picking up on the mass of bodies in the main lobby. Majority of the building is far too empty for a place of medicine. 

From his memory of studying the schematics on an off day, he remembers the west facing wing houses the operating rooms, which explains why the infrared picks up a couple small masses. But with the rest of the hospital empty, the four rooms on the third floor stand out. Each holds two bodies, one significantly larger than the other. 

That’s where he’ll start. 

A better fighter would get a better gauge of the situation. Maybe spend more time determining which are civilians and which are hostiles, or figure out exactly where they’re holding people. But Jeno has always worked best flying by the seat of his pants. He still doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but these must be the hostages important enough to separate from the main group. 

It would be safest if you were on the first floor, just one of many in the crowd, but the selfish part of Jeno wants you to be where he can see you. Where he can save you. 

He can’t waste any more time. He shoots the grappling gun, pulling on it to build momentum even faster and angle himself directly at the window. It shatters beneath his feet, and he tucks into a tight ball, rolling once before springing onto his feet. He ducks as the big man swings a crowbar at him, wincing at the sharp pain near his stomach. He takes a quick strike with his knife, slashing up across the stomach first, then across the throat, finally driving the knife into the man’s heart. He crumples to the ground and doesn’t move. 

Jeno pulls the blade out, wiping the blood from the knife on his pants and sheathing it. He turns around to find a figure in a white lab coat, cowering in the corner of the room, hands over their head, glass shards scattered around them. 

He crouches down in front of you, brushing the glass off your shoulder. You peek up at him, eyes softening as you recognize him even though you’ve never seen him in the mask before. There’s a small cut on your cheek. His thumb moves on its own, swiping at the blood and doing nothing but spread more on your face. 

“Are you okay?” Jeno asks. The modulator of the mask twists his voice into an unrecognizable beast. It’s perfect for protecting his identity and intimidating low lives, not so great for comforting the scared victims. Maybe he should tweak that part of the suit, make it adjustable. But you don’t flinch, standing up and shaking the rest of the glass off. 

“I’m fine,” you say. “How did you get here so fast?” 

“These are the same guys that shot me,” Jeno says. “I had a tracker out on the car, which led me here.” 

“Sionis,” you say. Jeno frowns. He knows that name. 

“Roman Sionis, that’s the guy doing all of this,” you explain. “He was a patient three months ago, really bad damage to his face. He’s targeting the team responsible for his care, doctors, nurses, everyone he blames for what happened to his face.” 

“Which includes you,” Jeno says. 

You nod, eyes tight. “Which means they weren’t after you when you got shot.” 

“Hey,” Jeno says. “I’m fine. You patched me up, and I’ve got the super healing, so if either of us was going to get shot, I’d rather it be me. It’s not your fault.” 

“I know,” you say, though you don’t sound like you believe it. “Should you really be jumping through windows, though?” 

He shrugs. “Didn’t pull the stitches. I swear.” 

You purse your lips but let it go. He wishes you would just say what you’re thinking but you look away from him, glancing at the door. 

“They took three more of us up here, and they probably know you’re here by now.” 

Jeno nods. Resolve the situation, then talk. 

“I’m going to clear out the rooms one at a time,” he says, “then work my way downstairs.” He unholsters a gun, handing it to you. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ve never used one of these.” You reluctantly take the gun out of his hands. 

“Point and squeeze the trigger,” he says. “It’s semi-automatic, you don’t have to do anything to reload. If they’re close enough you won’t even have to aim.” He forms your hands around the gun, teasing your fingers into the right position and turning off the safety. He lets his hands linger, waiting for your eyes to meet his, though he remembers a moment later that the mask conceals them. 

“Get the rest of the hostages and stay together,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” He forces himself to let go of your hands but doesn’t step away yet. 

He should say something else. Maybe apologize for what he said. Take it back. But he meant every word of it, even if you did too. He’s said all he can, and if that’s still not enough then at least you’re still alive. 

“Go save the day,” you finally say. “Then… I’ll see you after.” 

He nods, turning away and striding to the door, stepping over the body. “Wait for me to clear the rest of them, then get the hostages out of here.” 

He pulls the door closed behind him, trusting that you will be fine on your own. He doesn’t have time to worry, ducking to dodge the knife that flies toward him. He doesn’t let the man get a second chance, sprinting as fast as he can and burying his knife in the man’s heart. He’s turning a second later, using the man’s body as a shield against the second man in the hall, who doesn’t hesitate to fire a couple shots. Jeno throws the first man’s body on him, his knife following quickly after, burying itself in the man’s forehead. 

Like always, his pains melt away when he’s fighting. He barely feels the tug of the stitches, or the exhaustion he felt earlier. This body was made to kill, and that’s what he’ll do. 

He ducks into the room next to yours, knocking the guard to the floor and stabbing him. The hostage, a woman wearing a white lab coat, stands. 

“Wait here,” he says. “I’ll clear the rest of this hall. Don’t go outside unless you want to get shot.” 

She nods slowly. 

Jeno clears the other two rooms similarly, quick and far too easy. He hesitates at the stairwell. He should clear the rest of the civilians if he wants to resolve things quickly, but it feels wrong to leave these hostages to you—you were a hostage yourself only a few minutes ago. But it’s irrational. He knows you’re capable of protecting yourself, and smart enough not to get yourself killed. He has to trust you and do his job. You were the one that told him to save the day. 

He doesn’t bother with the stairs, jumping in the open space between the flights and using his grappling hook to control his fall. If he wasn’t hurt, he’d just drop the three stories, but it’s only a little slower this way. He retracts the hook with a button and sticks it back into his belt, pulling out his knives. 

He makes it halfway down the hall before he sees the first figure, raising his knife on instinct. He drops it a moment later, picking out the scrubs from here. The nurse sprints past him, barely glancing at him. More and more people follow, until a stream of people flood the hall. They part around him, allowing Jeno to make it to the lobby as it clears. Only a few people remain, mostly patients that struggle to move on their own and the people that stayed behind to protect them. 

Where is Sionis? Where are all of his men? Even in the flood of people, they would have stood out. Did they hear the commotion upstairs and run? One of the men fired his gun a couple times, maybe they went to investigate. 

No, they wouldn’t have let the hostages go if that were the case. He curses himself for not trusting his instincts, turning around to get back to the stairs, but the hallway is still blocked by all the people clamoring to leave. 

It takes painfully long to get to a stairwell, but he finally makes it. That’s when he hears the gunshot—different from the pops before, no this is a sound he recognizes. This is his gun. 

.

.

You wait until the hallway is quiet, peeking out the window for good measure. Nothing moves, the bodies on the floor limp. Blood pools around the three, puddles bright against the white tiles. You wait for another heart beat, holding your breath but the only movement comes from the blood, trickling down the hall. 

The door creaks open beneath your fingers. It feels like your footsteps echo as you hurry to the closest door. You make it to the first door, hand on the doorknob when you hear it—footsteps echoing from the stairwell, the opposite side of where Jeno left. They thunder up the stairs, at least ten men. 

You open the door a crack, whispering a sharp, “Stay hidden!” 

You don’t give whoever is behind the door a chance to argue, closing the door and sprinting to the stairwell as fast as you can. You hear a shout just as you cross into the stairwell, sprinting forward. You take one step toward the descending flight but see dark heads bobbing in the space between the stairs. You curse, turning and heading up. 

Shit, shit, shit. You can only go up. The men from the other end of the hall burst into the stairwell, your heart sending another shot of adrenaline through your body and pushing you to take steps three at a time. Even as you feel your body working harder than ever before, you know it won’t last. You have to find somewhere to hide. 

You burst onto the fifth floor, cringing as the door slams against the wall. No chance they missed that. 

You run as far as you dare, ducking into a storage closet and curling into a ball in the farthest corner, hiding behind a wall of bedpans. You shove a hand over your mouth, trying to cover your heaving breaths. Bile rises in your throat as the sprinting catches up to you but you swallow hard, closing your eyes and praying. 

Jeno’s gun rests in your other hand. The cold metal helps calm you down, your breathing evening out as you hear a door bang open. A moment later then there’s another bang. You hear footsteps in the hall, then another. They must be checking room by room. 

You’re about halfway down the hall, maybe five rooms in. You don’t have much time. 

You raise the gun, letting go of your mouth to hold it with both hands. Your finger drops to the trigger. Point and squeeze, Jeno said. You can do that. You aim it at the door, bracing your arm on your knees to keep them from shaking. 

You flinch at the next bang, feeling the wall shake. They’re in the room right next to you. They trash the room, sending vibrations through the floor, until it suddenly stops. 

You’ll have to move fast, you can’t give them any chance. 

Light cascades around as the door is thrown open. You squeeze the trigger, keeping the gun aimed at the large mass in front of you. There’s a loud bang and the gun slams your shoulder back but the man stumbles backward. You squeeze the trigger again and this time he goes down. 

A second man dodges the falling body, taking a step inside but you squeeze the trigger again and again and again and he falls too. 

Shit, how many shots was that? You clench your teeth but they seemed to have learned the lesson for the moment—nobody follows. 

“Alright, that’s enough fun.” You recognize Sionis’ voice from behind the mask this time. “Come out on your own or get dragged out. Your choice.” 

“I’d really rather stay here,” you say, voice shaking. You force yourself to your feet. 

“Fun way it is,” Black Mask says. This time two men push their way through, one blocking the other. You shoot and it hits the front man in the shoulder but he doesn’t go down. You squeeze the trigger again but nothing happens. 

You throw the gun at him, hoping to catch him in the head but he just knocks it away. You start pulling things from the shelves, throwing as hard as you can. It does nothing to stop them, grabbing you by the arms and heaving you off your feet. You twist and kick and try to bite but they don’t seem to notice. They hold you up in front of Black Mask in the middle of the hallway. 

“You are a feisty one,” he muses, watching you thrash. 

“Let me go,” you say. You try to growl but it comes out more like pathetic begging. 

“I’d like you to calm down a bit,” he says. 

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off but apparently that was some sort of signal because one of the men raises a fist and brings it down hard on the top of your head. 

It sends jitters down your spine as your teeth clang together. You blink tears away, your head lolling forward a little. The floor blurs beneath you—no it’s your eyes, struggling to focus. 

“Now, on with business,” Black Mask says, clasping gloved hands together. “I—”

You nearly fall to the floor as one of the men holding you—the one you shot in the shoulder—falls to the ground. You tilt backward as the second man goes down but a tight hand around your arm yanks you backward. 

Black Mask pulls you into a patient room, the bed pushed against the wall next to the bathroom. He pulls you away from the door until your back is against the window. He keeps his hand tight around your arm, pressing something hard and cold against the side of your head. Your brain still reels from the hit but you don’t have to think hard to figure out it’s a gun. 

There are a few shouts from the hallway but it falls quiet quickly. Only one pair of boots echo in the hall, solemn footsteps that pause by the door. Then Jeno appears in the doorway. 

Blood splatters cover the shirt, concealing the bat motif. It seeps into his leather jacket, though Jeno himself seems to be unscathed. He holds a gun in one hand and his knife in the other. 

“That’s close enough,” Black Mask says when he tries to step inside. 

Jeno’s mask covers his eyes, but if it didn’t, you’re pretty sure he’d be glaring. “Let the innocent go. Settle this like an adult.” 

“Innocent?” Black Mask cackles. “Sure, I’ll let the innocent go. I already did that.” He grips your arm tighter, pressing the gun harder into the side of your head. “But this one isn’t innocent.”

He taps on the mask. “I don’t wear this for fun, I’m sure you know. But I’m not like you. I don’t hide to protect myself or my loved ones—I don’t even have loved ones, and you know why? Because this idiot and the idiots at this hospital don’t know how to do a simple facial repair!” 

“They were third degree burns, you’re lucky to have a face,” you say. 

“Shut up!” Black Mask screams, shoving you. Jeno takes a step forward but freezes when Black Mask turns back to him. 

“One more step and you’ll be cleaning some brains off your mask!” He takes a breath, lowering his voice. “I’ll be the first to tell you, that’s no easy task.” 

“Let the hostage go.” Jeno sounds cold through the modulator.  

“And you’ll let me go?” Black Mask huffs a short laugh. “I don’t think so. Your reputation precedes you.” 

“Then you know what will happen if you pull that trigger.” 

“Leave now and I’ll leave this one alive,” Black Mask says. 

“What, half mad after you spend a few hours with your tools?” Jeno says. “Your reputation precedes you, too.” 

Black Mask sighs. “Then it seems I have no choice.” The gun presses hard against your head. 

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Black Mask says. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the shot but the pressure on the side of your head vanishes. 

There’s a loud bang, and for a moment you’re sure you’ve died, but then you feel a hard shove on your chest. Your legs hit the wall but it’s not enough to stop you from tumbling out the window, nothing but air beneath you. 

You barely raise your arms out before something tackles into you, an arm wrapping around your waist. You wrap your arms and legs around whatever they find, clinging like a baby monkey to Jeno’s side. 

He raises the other arm, shooting the grappling hook and pulling hard. You snap in the air, swinging up higher than you had fallen until you’ve crested the roof. 

“I got you,” Jeno says, arm wrapped so tightly around you you’re crushed against his side. 

He takes all the weight as you fall onto the roof, bracing the landing with his legs, somehow remaining upright. 

You can only cling to him, waiting for your brain to sort out what happened. You aren’t dead. Black Mask threw you out the window. Jeno caught you. You repeat the words over and over in your head until they almost make sense. 

“We’re back on solid ground,” Jeno says. 

“Mhm.” You don’t let go, keeping your arms tight around his neck. 

“You’re safe now,” he says. 

“I know.” 

He pauses. “You can let go.” 

“Not ready yet.” 

“Okay.” 

For a long moment all you can hear is the pounding of your heart. It lessens and you start to hear tires screeching on pavement down below, people shouting, sirens wailing in the distance. 

“Black Mask is getting away,” you say. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeno says. “I’ll get him when I get him.” His hand ghosts over your back. “All that matters is you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine,” you say. “Physically fine, at least. Just trying to sort out my head.” 

He hums, second arm wrapping around you in a true hug. You let yourself linger in the moment, breathing in the sharp scent of blood on his jacket. It smears against your scrubs as you press closer to him, turning them slimy against your skin. The jacket hides the warmth of his body, a hard layer separating you from him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

You lean back, letting go of his neck to rest your hands against the side of his mask. Whatever it’s made out of is hard, a thin metal that curves around his features yet doesn’t bend beneath your fingers. It doesn’t look anything like Jeno, the pale eyes concealing the most human part of him. He reaches up, pulling the mask off. 

Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead, which is creased with concern. His eyes flit between yours, dark and full of everything. For too long when you first ran into him, he would look at you with cold emptiness. Though you can’t read everything behind them now, he doesn’t bury all his feelings. He lets them shine through. 

“It’s not your fault,” you begin, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “Too much has happened, and that guy hit my head, and I thought I was going to die, so it’s hard to tell what I want to say. What I’ve been meaning to say.” You take a deep breath, looking at his forehead instead of his eyes, at the white streak of hair that clings to his forehead. “But if I don’t say it now, I think I’ll chicken out and never say it. 

“I’m kind of a coward,” you say. “I don’t want to get hurt—I mean, like, don’t let anybody anywhere near my heart to keep it safe, and it works. I’ll find an excuse, any excuse to push them away. 

“I did it to you. Yeah, I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to think about you dying because it always sends me into a spiral, but those were all excuses. It doesn’t matter that you wear that mask. That doesn’t change anything, and I won’t hide behind it anymore. 

“I love you,” you say, “so much. So much that it’s making me brave. I don't want to be a coward anymore. I want to love you. I’m sorry it took me so long, but I love you, I really, really do.” 

Jeno doesn’t say anything for a long moment, looking back and forth between your eyes. He doesn’t frown or smile, his face a mask itself. 

“Oh,” he says. 

“Apparently near death experiences lead to radical reflections and revaluations of life values.” 

And then he smiles, a real smile that curls his eyes and sends your stomach hurtling in somersaults. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands still resting on his shoulders. 

“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” you say. You brush his cheek with your thumb. “Save your applogies for real fuck ups.” 

He snorts. “Think there’s going to be a lot of those?” 

“Somehow I think I’m going to get stood up a lot,” you say. “It’s okay, though. That’s just what happens when you date a superhero.” 

“I don’t know about that,” he says. “I’m no superhero.” 

You kiss his nose. “Whatever you want to call it. But you’re a good man, Lee Jeno, through and through.” 

Jeno brushes his lips against yours, barely a kiss. He moves hesitantly, like he’s scared you’ll crumble in his hands. 

Well, you’re not going to die, he made sure of that. You are here and alive, and so is he. You grip the neckline of his jacket, pulling him into a crushing kiss. You press your lips harder against his and his arms tighten around you, finally kissing you back. 

It’s terrifying, how much you trust him. Like jumping off a cliff and knowing he’ll catch you—which basically he just did—you have to let go of the fear. Even when his arms are wrapped around you and you can feel him with every atom, it isn’t easy—a part of you will always want to run away, protect yourself. But you’re done running. Jeno put a gun in your hand and told you to fight. You can do that for him—for yourself. 

You will hold onto him and you will love him and he will do the same for you. It’s all you can do. 

.

.

Bonus: 

Jeno doesn’t know how you slept on this armchair. The back is stiff against his back and he can’t hang his legs off the side without the arms cutting into the back of his knees. He can tuck his head against the wing but it leaves his neck at an awkward angle. 

It’s for the best, though, since he needs to stay awake anyway. He shifts the chair until it’s against the side of the bed and sets his legs back on the edge of the bed, crossing one over the other and resting his elbows on the armrest. You raise your eyebrows at his feet but don’t tell him to move. He’ll give it a good twenty minutes before he tries to sit on the bed. He wonders if you’ll kick him out if he just asks outright if he can curl up next to you. Better to ease into it. 

You look radiant, wearing a big t-shirt curled under the blankets. Your lips curl into a little smile every time you catch him looking at you (which is pretty much always). 

“I’m going to invest in a big ass taser,” you say, still listing out your plan to keep yourself safe. “And some heavy duty pepper spray.” 

“I can teach you how to shoot a gun,” Jeno offers. 

You make a face, nose scrunching. 

“No?” 

You shake your head slowly. “No thank you. My arms hurt.”  

“How about some hand-to-hand?” He asks. 

“Are you going to be able to keep your hands to yourself?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

You look pointedly at his hand, which has found yours, fingers tapping on your knuckles. Huh, he didn’t realize he was doing that. He raises both hands, holding them up like a criminal waiting to be arrested. 

“My bad,” he says, setting them in his lap. Your bottom lip juts out for a second but you’re too proud to ask him to hold it again. He bites back a smile at the little war behind your eyes. 

“How’s your head?” He asks. 

“Concussed,” you say flatly. 

“You want to sleep?” He asks. 

“Not yet,” you say. You finally concede, reaching out a hand for him. He puts his feet down, slipping out of the chair to sit on the edge of the bed, clasping his hand over yours. Your shoulder rests against his hip. You blink up at him. 

“What?” He asks. “Is this okay?” 

You nod slowly, studying him with piercing eyes. He gets the feeling you see right through him, so he turns his gaze to your intertwined fingers. 

“What did you think of me when you first saw me? When you moved here, I mean,” he asks. 

You pause for a long moment. “Honestly?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I thought you were unemployed for at least two months.” 

Jeno snorts. 

“I mean pretty much every time I knocked you were wearing sweats and half the time you looked like you had just woken up!” 

Jeno scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “I don’t wear sweats that often.” 

You pause for a moment and he doesn’t dare peek at your face. “When you asked me to sew up your scalp, I figured it was either vigilante or something worse, and then I saw Red Hood on the news and I just knew.” 

He looks at you, head tilted down to see the top of your head. “Really?” 

“It looks like you,” you say. You pause before adding, “Plus you’ve got that leather jacket hanging in your entryway. What’s up with that, by the way?” 

“What?” 

“Your ‘suit.’ A leather jacket and cargo pants?” 

“They’re functional,” he says. 

“Your name is Red Hood and you don’t even have a hood. It’s a mask.” 

“Well a hood doesn’t exactly protect you,” he says, “and it strikes fear into my enemies.” 

You snort. “Does the black t-shirt help with that?” 

“Yeah, I can’t defend that one,” he says. “It’s cheap and easy.” 

“No wonder you died,” you say. 

“I take personal offense at that,” Jeno says. 

You yawn. “Okay buddy.” You scoot over a little. “Just lay down already.” 

Jeno grins, shifting to pull the covers up and slide his legs down them. He stretches out, rolling as close as he dares to you. His arm hovers over you until you shake your head and pull it over your waist, shifting until he all but lays on top of you. Your shoulder presses against his chest, his head resting on the same pillow only a breath away from you. 

“If you wanted to cuddle you could have just asked,” you say. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

You turn your head to meet his eyes, nose brushing against his. He could melt into your eyes, so warm and full of a happiness he hardly recognizes. He hopes he looks a fraction as happy as you do—and he hopes you know it’s only a fraction of how he feels. 

He didn’t think he’d ever feel happy again. Even if he finally got his revenge on Joker and Batman, it would be bittersweet at best, the end goal of a bitter fight that started when he dragged himself out of that grave. 

But he is happy. It’s the warmth that courses through every fiber of his body, the way his heart pounds every time he looks at you, the hope he feels when he thinks of the “after.” 

“You know it’s been years since the last time I smiled?” He says. 

“Yeah, I could tell.” Your eyes soften impossibly more. You rest your hand against his cheek again, fingers soft and careful as they trace the lines of his smile. They work their way to his lips, ghosting over the soft skin. 

“I think that part is over,” Jeno says. “Hating the world.” He presses a kiss on your thumb. “I’d like to be happier now. 

“Red Hood is a part of who I am, and it always will be. But Jeno is too, and I won’t let go of that.” He tightens his arm. “I’d like to hold onto you, too, though.” 

You grin. “I’d like that too.” You press a short kiss to his lips. “But my head hurts and right now I’d really just like to go to bed.” 

Jeno nods, shifting away only to turn off the lamp on your bedside table. He curls back around you, tucking his head against your neck and pulling you as close to him as he can. He is Jeno, he is Red Hood, and he isn’t alone anymore. 

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

[goldfades]

𝐨𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧, 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐨 | delicate au, jack hughes

౨ৎ ─ summary | leon gets picked by new jersey devils & a new rumor develops from photos taken at a draft afterparty. libby gets a dm from someone unexpected ;)

─ warnings | playful insults, more libby hating :(, stupid usernames lol i was running out of ideas, rumors idk if theres anything else!

─ ev's notes | im so excited hehehheheeheh, i hope y'all like this as much as i do! yall know how much i love feedback so PLS GIVE ME ANYTHING, im living off crumbs 🙁

leontf96 yost ice arena

Liked by jackhughes, lhughes_06, umichhockey and 62,404 more

leontf96 | best 2 years of my life this far, don't even know how to begin to thank everyone on this team & the lifelong friends i've made 💛 thank you, michigan #goblue #96 signing out 🫡 april 8th, 2023

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lhughes_06 | not leaving me just yet 🥳

↳ leontf96 UGH the only downside of this

↳ lhughes_06 love u too 🥰

jackhughes | welcome to jersey brother 👀

↳ leontf96 thank you brother 🥹

umichhockey | NOO NOT THE #96 OUT😪

↳ leontf96 i'll always be a wolverine

↳ lhughes_06 okay cheesy🥴

markestapa | legend ✊🏼

↳ leontf96 love ya bro 😤🥹

ethanedwards | 🫡🫡

↳ leontf96 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

adamfantilli | i'll miss you and ur clammy hands forever 🥲

↳ leontf96 i'll miss ur greasy mullet hair forever 😣

↳ lhughes_06 oh... 😟

↳ adamfantilli its the way we show our love luke u wouldn't get it😭

libbytf | you'll be closer to ur fav sister now!! yipee 💅🏻

↳ leontf96 YAYYAYAYAYAYYA (help me someone) 🤗

libbytf nashville, tennessee

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libbytf | proud sister moment!! couldn't have been prouder of my baby brother 🩷 june 30th, 2023

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leontf96 | coolest little brother ever (me) 😎

↳ libbytf okay someone has a big ego 😑

leontf96 | love you 😣

↳ libbytf love ya 💁🏻‍♀️

njdevils | are we gonna get a turner sibling duo?

↳ libbytf i cant skate to save my life so you'll just have to deal with the hughes 😶 love ya!

lizturnerfallon | growing up way to fast 🥺

libbytfnews

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libbytfnews | libby spotted in nashville at a NHL draft afterparty! maybe with a new man? 👀 july 2nd, 2023

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hearts4libs | omg she looks so happy!! YAYAYYAYA

libbytf96 | idc ab her new mans i just need a heartbreak album pls 💳💥💳💥

jhughesluvr | I KNOW THAT SIDE PROFILE ANYWHERE.

↳ hugheshockey86 dude its definitely jack, he liked this post?!?!?!?

lukehughesleftarm | THATS JACK FOR SURE OH MY GODDDDDDD

puckbunny33 | no fucking way

user545 | good 😭😭 for😭😭😭 them😭😭😭😭😭😭

Accept message request from jhughes (jackhughes)?

jhughes: have you seen twitter? we're trending 🤣 jhughes: looks like i'm your bf now 🤷🏻🤷🏻

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[lollipopliccer]

𝔄 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔢 ❦

❦ warning lollipop chaos ahead! proceed with caution… ❦ light angst , happy ending , ex getō suguru , tattoo artist suguru , set in a tattoo parlour , soft dom geto , praise , cunnilingus , masochism , light sadism & impact play , ig semi public and i guessss office sex

the descriptions of this tattoo experience is not accurate, i dunno shit abt tattoos (even tho i rlly wanna get one). so don't bite my fucking dick off with the technicalities! lets just b happy that i acc posted this hehehe

word count ; 5k ish

black fem reader (still all can read)

lollipopliccer’s love letter ❦ … hiiiii lollipops 🪷 i just wanted to say thank u sm for the love on my debut fic i rlly appreciated it. i’m rlly excited for y’all to read this new one EEEEE. this one was also long as helllll (¬_¬), shit has just been ridiculous in my life rn so sorry abt the delay, i don’t even know y it took me this long just to write 5k ugh anywayyy. i’m excited, cus i always eat up geto tattoo artist head-cannons, mmmm they’re just so mm mm mm tasty. anyway this is my first time writing some angst, i usually stay clear away from any typa angst, i’ve already got enough of that in my life plss haahaa, i don’t even know what possessed me to dip my toe in it, but don’t worry it’s very light. okayy enough of the babble, pls enjoy my fic, and i’d appreciate all ur interaction, reposts, comments, feedback blah blah… mwah mwah mwah ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

'i'm so excitteedddd' you squeal, as your best friend nobara parks her car, beside the tattoo parlor. you both had been planning your tattoos together for a few weeks now settling on the most beautiful matching heart design on both your bikini lines, whilst individually having unique patterns going through the (tatted) hearts.

"you better not fucking scream when you're actually under the gun" nobara chastises laughing.

"fuck you bitch, you already know i'm bad like that, not even gonna flinch" you taunt, as you both get out of her car.

you decided on wearing a fitted, short black dress, that accentuated your curves and hips but would also be easily manoeuvrable for your tattoo placement. shoko Ieiri your tattoo artist made sure you were comfortable with your design and placement.

underneath your dress, you wore bikini bottoms with side ties, for the same reasons as the dress - paired with some white trainers with pink embellishments. you complete your outfit with jewellery. including your pandora bracelet with silver and pink charms, a necklace, and stud earrings.

you both walk into the parlour, it's decorated all over its dark blue walls with a myriad of paintings, sketches, and different artworks. nobara leads you to the front desk as she had booked the appointment. you're greeted by a raven-haired girl with a short pixie cut.

"hey, are you guys here for your appointment?" she asks, as you notice her name tag- 'maki', and her tattoos and scars peeking through her top.

"yeah, um we had an appointment for 6:30 pm" nobara states, you can see her start to blush at maki.

"cool, yeah i'll check that out for you, umm..." maki responds

nobara so obviously interested in maki, decides to flirt, while you absent-mindedly look at the artwork placed across the shop. it's truly captivating, the deep dark hues and colours, so beautifully drawn, depicting what you could only describe as demons. they were more abstract than the stereotypical depiction, but these works somehow gave more meaning and conveyed more torment.

"so how long have you been working here, maki right?" nobara asks

"yeah, i started some months ago."

"that's cool, i love your tats”

“thank you, i um did some of em myself, nobara right?” maki responds getting nobara’s name from the booked appointment slot

“yeah…” nobara smiles shyly

“…are those your sketches up there? nobara asks, pointing to one of the sketches you've been staring at, there's a familiarity to the work displayed. but you can't put your finger on it.

"no um that's actually from another tattoo artist's, geto." maki answers.

you almost freeze, just from the mention of his name "who?!"

"uhh geto suguru, he owns the place, his artwork is all over these walls" maki responds to you.

a shiver runs up your spine "oh..."

"on that note, i'm sorry for the inconvenience girls, but shoko, your tattooist she had to take our other colleague gojo to the hospital- broke his arm doing some dumb shit. so she won't be able to actually give you your tattoo’s today, however we're able to swap her in for geto suguru, he just got back into town and is just as talented"

"shit" nobara turns to you, already knowing the issue from just his name alone, "yn i had no idea omg, i should've checked better, we can leave"

"nah there'll be no need for that, right yn?" you hear his voice. his silky deep voice, it always had that raspy quality that made your knees go weak. another shiver runs down your spine. you whip around.

"why tf are you here?" you sneer.

"uhh i work here…" he answers deadpan.

you turn back around, after giving him a lethal sneer, "hey um maki is there any other artist today?"

"no, i'm sorry, everyone else is booked." she apologises

"and anyway, it'll be a hassle for you guys if you were to reschedule," geto states

you simply stare at nobara refusing to even glance at him.

"come on yn" geto insists gently, leaning closer to you. your back to him. your name on his lips has you reeling, how softly he calls to you, like no other.

nobara waits for what you want to do, and if you're comfortable being tattooed by your ex in such an intimate area?

"let's get this done", you tell nobara, you turn around to face geto who has that enticing smirk.

as you follow him to his workspace, nobara hangs back reassured that you're comfortable being with your ex. you get the chance to truly take him in since last you saw him. his tattoo’s have grown, as he's painted a whole-sleeved dragon across his left arm, slithering out of his tight-fitted black t. your eyes roam all over his body, soaking in his confident stride, his height, taller than you remember. the way he ties part of his black, luscious hair in the bun is similar but different from the way you remember, leaving the rest of his hair to hang past his shoulders. but his right-hand tattoo is as you remember. a rose’s stem covered in thorns, wrapped around his hand, you can't help but still have your heart swell from that.

as he opens the door for you, you strut past him in silence, he of course responds with an eye roll to your petulance. his workspace is decorated with more of his works, some unfinished, yet so mesmerising you can't look away from them, they seem to depict a greater depth, too intimate for the outer world. the deep hues of dark royal blues, blacks, and green meld together, casting an otherworldly aura. the demons here have this eerie elegance, their features subtly tormenting, evoking such sorrows.

"if you're not comfortable with me tattooing you, we don't have to, i will let you reschedule free of charge-" "i know." you state, without hesitation. and with that, the silence returns as geto smiles slightly, he then grabs his equipment, lining them up, his needle gun, ink, etc.

"why did you insist on me not rescheduling then?" you taunt

"i wouldn't say i instisted" geto defends.

"mmm really? cus i'd even say you implored" you smirk. seeing you smile… he wonders how he could’ve forgotten how magnetic it is.

"i just wanted to see you…”

a pause.

"you broke up with me." you interrupt coldly, both of you are reminded of your separation...

… you begged him to stay. the pain you felt completely consumed you, leaving you empty…

geto holds your gaze. your eyes filled with anger, but also longing. you try to conceal your feelings by turning around.

"yn..." he calls out to you, but you ignore him, seemingly too entranced by a random splotch on the wall, while trying to hold it all in "...yn look at me", geto approached.

you turned around slowly. almost stubbornly, you made sure to look him in his eyes, those deep dark orbs that never failed to suck you into a world of intensity and sensitivity. you both hold each other's gaze, so much said between each other, longing, and regret.

"i am sorry yn, i-" in his attempt to express his apology, you immediately stride past to sit on the tattoo bed, too overwhelmed.

"-right so like from a scale of 1-10, 10 being i'm gonna need to b fucking sedated, how painful is this tat going to be" you ramble, trying to divert the conversation.

you ignore his sigh, as he walks to his chair. he then chooses to focus on preparing his equipment, sterilising them, all that shit. "the tattoo shouldn't be that painful, especially as you requested numbing cream."

"cool" you respond curtly, you follow his actions on focusing on the task at hand, and lift up the side of your dress, to expose the side you were getting tatted on.

when geto looks back he sees your pink bikini bottoms with string ties, he looks away trying to keep his composure "just want you to give me an idea where you want your heart and thorns”.

you clear your throat a little, to try and calm your nerves, “um just around here, i trust your um artistic inclinations. have some freedom with it, i know its kinda simple but i um- the thorns i want them to wrap around, please.”

“of course, yn”

geto trying his best to make this experience as comfortable as possible begins applying the numbing cream. he looks you in your eyes, to see if there were any remaining apprehensions, finding none, the gun comes to life.

“you tell me how you’re feeling throughout this process, if anything feels off with what i am doing, you tell me, do you understand?” geto instructs, his firmness, and apprehension to cause you any unnecessary harm stirs things in you. things you’ve tried repressing, tried to move on from, evidently unsuccessfully.

you nod in response adding a “yes”. and so begins the process, as geto brings needle to skin, his art begins to mark you. the initial twitch of pain you feel is subdued by the numbing cream generously applied. although you can’t help the slight yelp that falls from your lips, which geto catches onto and immediately soothes “shhh it’s okay, the cream will kick in soon won’t feel a thing hun”. his words soothe you, as they always used to, leading you to simply whimper in slight pain. you can’t help but look at him, at how he’s completely focused on your brown skin, that he marks by his hands.

…

as the hours go on, you slowly see geto’s work, his art come together, the red hues of the heart mixing together with slight pinks but also contrasted shades of black, to provide it with such depth, teasing the later depictions of darkness the thorns will add. you are in complete awe of this man, of his work, as you watch him work completely zoned in, despite any dull pain mumbling under the numbing cream.

as your focus lays on him- memories, old feelings of pain, sadness, and confusion begin to bubble again, and you blurt…

“why did you leave?”

a pause…

followed by silence… your demand for answers hanging over you both, while he still remains focused on your tattoo, you remain waiting. you know he heard you.

“i found myself in darkness again, yn, but that time it was even more challenging.. my hallucinations, my night terrors all came back, i was in it deep…” he pauses trying to find his words, and you give him that space “… i knew you were there for me, holding me when i woke up screaming. you stood by me…” he paused

“…however i couldn’t let you do that, i couldn’t bring you there with me. not when i couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world. i needed to find myself again, my purpose. and i know the way i left you, was cold, and confusing, and i am truly sorry, but i had to do it for myself.” as you listen attentively, watching him intently, he slowly gazes at you, pausing his work. your eyes meet with such intensity, such ache, and you start welling up, finally understanding everything, no longer being left with nothing but a cold departure.

“i’m sorry- m’so- ‘m so so sorry geto” tears cascade down your face, geto is quick to wipe them away, softly holding your precious face.

“sshh, ssh baby, don’t be silly mmm, you did nothing wrong, and i’ve been doing better. so much better. finding new channels to express how i feel, what i see.” referring to the intricate art that decorated his walls.

you sniffle, you feel so guilty and ashamed, for the resentment you harboured against him when he was out there trying to fight his way out of such a dark mental space. “they’re beautiful.” you sniffle

“not a day goes by that i don’t think about you, that i don’t regret the way i left. i would’ve come back but i thought you would move on...”

“i didn’t.” you respond

“neither did i.”

with your admissions to one another, a comforting silence fell, filling the room with sweet serenity, and you both found yourselves tethered together once again, holding each other’s gaze, filled with yearning.

you were the first to break, averting your gaze, feeling like it was the first time meeting, how your butterflies bloomed and fluttered, riddled with carnal hunger for him. the paradox of your feelings for him always consumed you, almost driving you mad, only geto could set you so ablaze.

the needle resumed its course, mechanically piercing your skin. both your attentions returned to their original positions.

the only difference being the shift in the atmosphere, the reignition of your feelings for one another, but this time at a tenfold from the time spent apart, wanting no other.

“ahh it’s getting a little sore geto” you whine in slight pain

“sorry yn, we’re moving onto the thorns now, we’ll soon be done, why don’t you take a look at it for me, tell if you don’t like anything?”

as he wipes over the completed heart, filled with colours and dimensions, so deep and beautiful, truly depicting more than you could imagine, it’s medium-sized maintaining a slight cuteness to the art, but still depicts chaos within, which geto clearly understood about you, and so was best to depict it.

“i love it.” you squeal, looking into his eyes, as he looks for reassurance from you. his vibrant smile brightens his face, you hadn’t seen it in so long, and it warmed you.

“good, we’re going to move to the thorns, wrapped down your thigh, why don’t you tell me about your choice of thrones?” geto asked so he could understand your thought process behind the tattoo.

you were apprehensive to reveal your thorns, largely from a place of embarrassment. you didn’t want to show how much he had affected you, and still did, but you did not want to lie to him especially after, he revealed himself so intimately to you.

the thorns, um, i got them from you…” geto halts at this, looking at you in slight confusion “they stemmed from me just wanting to have a piece of you still with me, something that i remembered, that reminded me of you… the thorns, the ones you have on your rose.” in explaining, you feel bold enough to touch the inked rose on his right hand, grazing your fingers over the thorns

suguru can hardly conceal his feelings. “i missed you.” geto states. his dark, sleek eyes told you how he burned for you.

“i missed you too suguru.” you whisper. your feelings flood your body, making you tingly- his intensity holds you in place. you’re both focussed on one another, suguru begins to smile feeling the warmth of your fingers touching him so delicately.

"lets continue your tattoo, i don't wanna fuck it up" suguru states, slowly bringing his hand away from your touch, even though he wanted nothing more than to let you touch him all over. to feel how those pretty acrylics, decorated in bows and charms along his skin, but he didn't want to mess this up, he wanted to tattoo you perfectly.

"okay" you respond, almost dissapointedly. wanting to feel him under your fingertips. you'd settle for now to feel his hands on your thighs, holding them to get his angles right, you were beginning to realise that you wanted more than just to stroke his hand. you want him to mark you all over, with more than just his needle gun.

"you've gotta try and stay still for me yn, i know it hurts, but it'll be over soon" suguru soothed, as his eyes narrowed around the curves of your thighs, the way they flexed and trembled slightly as you whimpered due to the numbed pain.

"okay... can i hold onto you?" you ask. he responds with a nod. you grip his arm, wanting to feel tethered- you don't remember him being so well-built, his biceps feel thick and powerful, almost hard to the touch as he flexes per his movements.

...

you're now a few hours into the tattoo, suguru’s taking his time, to add such beautiful details. the tension between the two of you is palpable, but the air is no longer filled with animosity, but rather intimacy. knowing you though, and how impatient you are suguru already sees it coming when you-

"sug i'm fucking borreeddd" the numbing cream obviously doing its job to reduce the pain to something dismissible, suguru chuckles finding your impatience so familial and adorable.

"it's barely been two hours" suguru forever sassy, remarks, rolling his eyes at ur moodiness. "now stay still, you're messin up my work." suguru states, you huff and bite your tongue, as you don’t want to fuck up his flow, you already know he works best when he’s zoned-in on a task.

you decide to catch up with him, your curiosity building, you've both missed so much from each other's lives. "i like your parlour. i would've bet money you'd turn your art into tattoos, you were too talented to let your art hide in your sketches"

suguru smiles again, "yeah? it was either this or burning down the town", he jokes and makes you both laugh, due to the absurdity. however, you both knew, there was some truth to it, which honestly added to your laughs

"right, of course committing arson, and potential mass murder is an obvious alternative." you sarcastically quip

"what you don't agree, i know you're not much better at keeping your chaos in check," he teases, his eyes locking onto yours.

you feel yourself flush, feeling seen- so you try staying on track to your original plan to catch up with him, "when did you open this place?"

"well actually gojo was the one who invested in my passion"

"that's so sweet"

"yeah, he's a fucking asshole, always all up in my business," he remarks, with a small smile, feigning annoyance. you can feel the fondness behind his words.

you notice how suguru smiles, how he teases, just like he used to, & still has that assertive and confident allure to him, that natural dominance and assuredness in himself, that he almost lost. your conversation with one another continued, bantering off one another. you make each other laugh and snicker and your heart can’t help but swell.

...

your feelings for him set aflame once again. this time with a ferocity you could barely contain. only heightened by the dull pain that he controlled with his needle, marking you so prettily. the assured control suguru had over your body was so seductive, it made places other than your tatted thigh, start to ache, start to ache so badly.

finally, geto lays the finishing touches on your tattoo, clearing up the intricate lines, adding shadings and highlights, and then wiping over the tattoo.

"okay, it's done. you can go check it in the mirror, let me know if you hate it." geto keeping his gaze low somewhat anxious to see your reaction.

as you approach the full-body mirror attached to the opposite wall, you couldn't possibly understand his apprehension because when you lay eyes on your tattoo, you are completely awestruck. you fall completely in love with his markings, the way the thorns pierce through the heart and sliver down your left hip, and thigh, wrapping them gorgeously.

you are lost for words, your lips part with a gasp, and when you bring your eyes up onto suguru through the mirror, you see how he watches you. following from your thighs decorated in his work, marking your body so seductively. then he focuses on how your dress is bunched up on those hips, those hips he’s held, and soothed over for hours today, but his mind wanders... reminiscing about all those times he used to handle and caress all over your plump thighs. how he would mould your body any way he pleased.

he watched as you held the undone ties of your pretty bikini bottoms, it made him salivate. his eyes cast over your dress- the way it hugged your body so exquisitely, propping up your boobs so prettily. the way your butt peaks out of the bunched-up dress, and how your breathing picked up, flustered from his heated gaze.

"i love it sug." you whisper softly.

"yeah?" he smirks. growing bolder, he walks up to you, and you don’t dare avert your eyes from his, through the mirror. you love the way his top hugs his thick muscular shoulders. his broad upper back being so beautifully emphasised, and how his sculpted chest has his nipple piercings teasing through his top. you salivate at his slim waist. ugh he's such a slut. you love the way his body is perfectly decorated in his art, marking his skin; and adorning his arms, and his neck, which is wrapped with a chain, you remember gifting him.

when he reaches you, he has to crouch down, flexing his strong thighs and calves hidden under his baggy bottoms, but you still have to look up at him to maintain eye contact, which he demands with his own. suguru holds the bottom of your thigh just under where the tattoo ends.

"how does it feel?" he whispers into your ear, his sharp gaze still honed on you

you whimper faintly because of the dull sting and ache from the tat

"a little sore sug, but it feels good, i really like it." you say softly while you lean into him, wanting to be wrapped in his body, his warmth.

he smiles at your admission "that's good yn, i'm going to wrap it up now, don't want it getting infected." you love the way he says your name, the way he purrs, your name rolls off his tongue so tenderly.

as he wraps the tattoo you wince, he immediately soothes you, "i've got you baby, it's okay." your body relaxes in response. your eyes never leave each other. as the tension shifts you feel enthralled, wanting him to touch you all over.

"yn, do you want me to play with you?" suguru asks, having that condescending tone that never failed to make you falter. you almost shy away, but he holds your face, bringing his hand up under your chin, his fingers grip your cheeks slightly, making you look directly at him “i want to play with you, i want to help you forgive me baby...” he whispers into your ear. your breath becoming more uneven and flustered from his proximity, that you can practically taste his aroma, how he mixes his scents of minty, smoky notes and cinnamon, woody undertones - it intoxicates you.

“…do you want me to?”

geto waits for your response, not daring to touch you the way he wants, without knowing you’re aching for it. and you want nothing more than that, for him to take care of you how he once did, oh how you wanted to see if he still remembered how to make you cum so blissfully. you nod giving out a soft “please”.

suguru kisses the side of your head, sprinkling kisses down your face making you giggle and fawn, till he reaches your neck and you lose your breath. geto finds the sensitive parts on your neck, making you feel so tingly, it's almost ticklish. you almost forgot how much you loved when suguru kissed and licked across your neck, how he would bite and suckle, leaving you all marked up just how he liked. god he’d go fucking crazy for it too. to hear you whine and pant below him as he licked and sucked. it sent tingles all over your body, straight to your clit. you shuddered under him, leaning onto him- to give him better access to mark you. slowly he grips your hips grinding his bulge into you, he even bends you forward a little so that you can feel him, how hard he is for you- humping into you over your clothed body.

geto held you at an angle arched while both of you stood in front of the mirror so that he could have you grind right back onto his dick that was growing so achingly hard for you. the way he moved your bodies together was so disgustingly sensual, you had to look away moaning as you felt his clothed dick thrust into you, giving you that sensation you so craved. you were whining, you felt so depraved like you hadn’t been touched like this in so long- you just wanted him to rip you the fuck open.

“mmm nah baby look at yourself in the mirror…” he demanded, to which you stubbornly ignored, forcing suguru to grab your face so that you could look at how pathetically you had come undone for him, just from his dry humping. “… i said fucking look at yourself, mmm? you lost your manners baby?” he teases knowing exactly how to fix your attitude. he ends his command by giving your thigh (without the tattoo) a firm slap, making you cry out, you quickly try stifling it, remembering you’re still in his fucking workspace.

“you’re so mean” you whine and pout up at him, which makes him chuckle at you, his smirk unfurling so lewdly.

“i’m going to make it up to you mmm? you’ll let me make you feel good baby? gotta apologise for making my baby upset.” the way he talks to you feigning that concern, his fucking tone, makes you feel weak, and pliant for him. as you move your legs a little wider, and let go of your tied bikini bottoms so they hang down barely concealing a thing. geto watches how strings of your arousal are built up, clinging onto your pretty bottoms. showing him just how wet you are for him and you push your butt into him even more, nodding your head in invitation for him to remedy all the mess he’s made.

as suguru brings his rose-covered hand down to your aching pussy ready to soothe it. once he touches her, feeling your glistening folds, he hisses as his eyes glaze over, and lower so seductively. you see the way his hand flexes and his veins protrude. his long, adept fingers dip further, caressing and rubbing against your hard little clit. he can feel it pulse for him, making you whine as suguru increases the pressure of his fingers on your clit. circling around your throbbing bundle of nerves. his fingers collect the slick past your lips, down to your spasming, weeping hole, and brings them back to your needy nub.

his tight circles, pet your pretty clit so well, turning you into a mewling mess, you can’t help but move against and around his fingers, acting so bratty- but suguru couldn't give a shit, he'll mould you right where he needs you again holding you by your neck and continuing his strokes on that clit regardless of how you whine.

"sug- aaa-" such a petulant whine leaves your supple lips, begging for him to go further into your leaking hole, you needed him to be inside you, having your pussy drool on his pretty, tatted fingers.

"i know baby, you need it don't you? you need me to fuck you open mmm?" suguru whispers in your ear, kissing the outside of your earlobe so delicately, while saying such filthy things. you look at him through the mirror nodding your head so pathetically, and why would he deny you, his baby? nah never...

suguru brings his finger back down to your desperate hole. he eases around your pussy going around the edges of her, only dipping the tip of his finger. you can't take his teasing-

"sugu! stop teasin-" suguru immediately interrupts, plunging his fingers into you, making you gasp. he slipped into your soppy pussy giving off that mind-numbing squelching sound, having your pussy suck his fingers in so snuggly, has you moaning wantonly. the way suguru’s digits fill you, he’s able to add a finger, scissoring two fingers into your weeping cunt, the way he pushes in and curls his fingers to rub against your plush walls it has you mewling. as you feel him find and rub against that spot, that perfect spongey spot so easily, your eyes roll back. suguru was losing his mind, he rasped a soft moan right into your ear, he loved watching you buck on his fingers, the way you moaned and struggled to take him, it made him itch and drool to have you.

his fingers in your pussy stroking and pumping into your soft, wet pussy. his hand around your neck holding your face up to keep your eyes on everything he was doing. his deep, velvety voice right by your ear, whispering, and moaning sweet nothings. you were losing your fucking mind, you almost couldn't handle it.

"aaa- nngg, sug- sug!," you moaned shamelessly "f-ohfuck i can't-"

"sshh baby, tf you think you're doing mmm, whining like that in my office?" suguru whispers chastising you. your eyes look up at him, and the way you looked so doe-eyed, so pathetic- barely able to hold in your moans, gripped him.

"you struggling to take it for me baby, want me stop?" geto taunts, but you instantly shake your head needing him all over you.

“no please don’t stop sug”

"you can take what i give you princess?"

"i need you uhahh" you wanted him to have you however he pleased.

the way he moves has you humping and panting, you wine on him trying to get some friction against your slutty little cunt.

your moans grow louder and the pitch of your whines grow higher- you suck on your pretty fingers to try and get yourself quiet, your eyes glazing over as you watch suguru fuck you so good with his fingers and his hard bulge pushing up into you. the way he licks and bites all over your neck leaving a trail of his marks. suguru still never averts his dark eyes from yours. the purple glints in his eyes kind of sparkle in your head. all of it is bringing you right to the edge. your eyes roll back, your thighs shake, your knees buckle from the pleasure. so pliant and easy for him to manoeuvre you so he can hold you up and fuck you in just the right angles he needs, that he demands.

“fuckfuckfuc- aahh ohhhh sugie. daddy oh mmynghh” you whine and cry, your head lolling onto his shoulder.

right on the precipice of your orgasm, suguru watches how you get so close to cumming, he’s fucking salivating seeing how you become so undone, how you’ve gone fucking dumb on just his fingers, he can’t help but moan and groan right with you.

“mmm mmfuck, mine. mine.” he purrs, licking all up on you

but all too soon, it comes to a halt, and your orgasm gets snatched away from you. suguru wickedly decides to take his fingers out of you. you almost cry

“wha- no suguru fuck no don’t stop, mmmmnoo” you whine so pathetically gripping his arm, it’s fucking laughable trying to keep his fingers right where you needed them, gripping his sculpted arms so hard. your hands… the size difference makes him smile. no not smile, he’s fucking smirking. that little shit.

“fuck you, SUG HMPH!” you practically stomp your feet, pushing him away as you’re about to walk away, but of course suguru grips you against him, pulling you back so close, you are still as stubborn as ever refusing to look at him, while you’re face to face, which makes him snicker. he isn’t having any of that bullshit tho, he grabs your chin and cheeks squeezing as a warning. he pulls your face up to him again and kisses you on your forehead, the side of your head, and your cheek, and then he ghosts his plump, nude lips over your lips.

“if i decide you don’t get to cum on my fingers, you won’t. i don’t fucking care how close you are.” suguru states, locking his eyes with yours so intensely, while his lips and breath feel so close to your own, you almost feel faint. you want nothing more than for him to just kiss you, you want to feel his lips again, oh how you miss how soft they were, how you loved the taste of his mouth, the taste of the mint with his own unique feel.

suguru’s eyes flutter down to look at your lips so lushly plump and glossed he can’t help but lick his lips. he wants nothing more than to mess up your brown and pink lip combo. to bite, suck and lick all over you.

“tell me you understand.”

“i understand daddy, m’sorry i threw a tantrum, i just wanted to cum on your fingers so bad-”

suguru smiles feeling fucking delighted from your admission

“-can you please kiss me, i promise i’ll behave sugie” you whisper almost whining at the end, you rub your thighs together feeling how you made such a mess for him, as your slick trickles down your thighs.

suguru feeling so pleased with you, groans into your mouth, once your lips touch. he almost forgot how much he missed this. how much he missed you, your lips, those soft lips that melted against his. he loved the way you gasped and whined from your slow kiss, so sensual and intimate. but he knew you were such an impatient brat, his impatient princess.

demanding more, you lace your hands into his hair. you adored his long, luscious hair so much, (that you remember countless times joking about shaving it off at night and turning it into a wig. those playful moments would always have you both bickering and laughing together. it makes your heart swell remembering this).

you begged for more by stroking and tugging at the nape of his hair, making his body tingle, as suguru moaned into your kiss. he licked on your lips to get you to open up for him. he loves the way you whine and moan from frustration and neediness while running your fingers through his hair, it made him lose his fucking mind, so, of course, he had to express that by nipping at your bottom lip. his bite made you whimper and grind up against him but it wasn’t enough. you needed more. you wanted more. but suguru leads the kiss to hold that slow, deep and sensual pace, having your tongues dance together, lick against each other unhurried. which was mind-blowing but also so frustrating you wanted to just devour him, you couldn't get enough.

you moaned into his mouth as suguru sucked on your bottom lip, and then went back to your tongue, licking against each other. he spat in your mouth briefly separating your mouths from one another, and immediately resuming the kiss. at this, you snapped. whining wantonly, you gripped onto him and stubbornly clambered onto him so your legs wrapped around his waist. suguru was easily able to carry you. you were determined to make him fuck you.

“daddy” you whisper, opening your eyes to pout up at him.

“yes baby?” suguru answers, giving little kisses along your chin down to your neck. sucking onto your sensitive neck areas, he knew just the right spots to make you lose your fucking mind.

“i want you to fuck me…” you say grinding down onto the bulge you could feel through his sweats. you were sure you could feel a wet spot on them, but you weren’t quite sure of the culprit, as your wet pussy dragged and humped on his dick print leaking with pre-cum. you could feel his throbbing dick just aching to be inside you, pumping you full of his cum. suguru hissed from the feeling of your mess teasing his aching cock.

“… please baby, please fuck me again, i said i’d be good” you whined, moving closer to his ears so only he could hear how desperate you were for him. suguru moans, his voice breaks and rasps a little from you grinding on him and circling over his dick.

suguru fucking snaps, he closes his eyes while his mouth slightly hangs open, just taking in how your hips wined on him while he carried you.

he then cupped your face to him, “you’re such a fucking brat.” he moans, holding your face and caressing your throat, he watches how your breathing picks up, as you get so flustered. he brings you close, kissing you on your forearm, bringing his hand around your neck. then he carries you to his tattoo bed.

“i am not going to fuck you yn-.”

“-but su!” you begin to whine interrupting him

“be quiet.” suguru reprimands, gripping your neck just a little tighter after placing you to sit on the edge of the seat “i’m not gonna fuck you on my dick. when i have you like that, it’s gonna be on my bed, where i can have you screaming on it without any fucking interruptions. do whatever the fuck i wanna do without you getting all shy on me tryna muffle those pretty moans from me mmm, you understand baby?”

“yeah daddy” you answer feeling so giddy and light with him

“there’s my princess,” he smirks, “you’re really that fucking needy, want my dick here, right where my colleagues are downstairs mmm?” he says before kissing you again. “good girl” he praises while lifting off your dress and quickly bringing his lips back onto yours. slowly he brings you to lay back. he gets in between your thighs lifting one up over his shoulder while letting your tatted thigh rest over the edge of the bed. from this angle he could see your pretty glistening pussy, clenching around nothing.

“lay back baby.” he instructs, he sees how you wait in anticipation for him laying back on the bed.

he crouches down, kneeling in front of your exposed pussy, your slick brown lips he’s completely hypnotised by, they glisten from your wetness. you grow a little shy, you weren’t prepared to be eaten out today (૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა). you bring down your hands to try and cover her up, feeling a little embarrassed.

suguru immediately dismissing your nonsense, and swats your hand away bringing them to instead hold your plush thighs “don’t piss me off today yn, it’s fucking mine.” you almost squeal in response to suguru, he gets so intense sometimes.

suguru is completely enchanted by your scent, the way your hole quivers and weeps for him he has to have a taste. keeping his eyes on you suguru takes the time to separate your folds with his fingers, he licks your swollen nub revelling in the way you gasp and twitch from the sensation, you feel so sensitive from the way his fingers had you shacking.

he then delves in, lapping and sucking on your bud making you writhe and moan from pleasure. the movement of his tongue has such an effect on your pussy, it's marvelling. he takes his time, really getting you sensitive, flattening his tongue on your clit and then straightening it to add pressure, circling perfectly around your bundle of nerves, it makes you gasp and arch your back so prettily

“fuck! sug-daddy aaaahhh” you release a raspy cry, gripping his hair and pulling him into you to, so you can grind on his face, which makes him moan into you, muffling a-

“fuck baby” into your wet pussy, he has to hold your hips down as you begin moving around too much for him to control, so he holds your thigh and places his other arm on your hip, pushing you down, so you stay fucking still for him to play with you properly. suguru brings his tongue down to your leaking hole, thrusting his pointed tongue into your pussy making you mewl and cover your mouth to stop yourself from squealing.

the way you’re panting and moaning, suguru can tell you're going dumb for him, aching to cum all over him. he takes his mouth off of you as your moans get higher. you whine from the absence of his tongue on your needy pussy but he makes up for it by spitting on her, letting his spit slide onto your sensitive cunt. the way his spit glistens and slides down your pussy, he pushes it back into your hole, thrusting his fingers and spit back into you. you react by clutching your thighs together from the sensitivity which makes suguru look at you sharply.

“open.”

you whine, separating your thighs, so he can dip his head back down onto your clit which makes you shudder, bucking your hips into his face. he continues thrusting his fingers into you while his tongue plays and toys with your sore little clit. you can feel everything, it's all so much, your eyes roll back as your mouth hangs open letting out a broken moan while you tug at suguru’s hair.

the way his fingers scissor your folds open, cunt drooling and sucking him in greedily, while he laps and lightly nips on your clit letting his spit drool on you, just for him to suck on your juices. he eats so sloppily it has your eyes watering.

“s’good sug—so fuckin’ good,” hips grinding into the movement of his lengthy fingers, chasing that ecstasy knotting in the pits of your stomach, you’re so close you start seeing white, suguru knows you’re about to cum from the way your fingers tangle and tug at his hair, struggling to either push him closer or away from you. his dark piercing gaze never leaves your face.

“daddy m’gonna cum! shit hah aa sug please lemme cum oh please” you sob, which makes suguru groan into your pussy. feeling the way your hole clenches around his fingers, leaking out so much wetness. the way your hard clit throbs for him, your juices covering, adorning his beautiful face, he looks so pussy drunk. the only thing on his mind is making you cum all over him.

“mmm baby, you gonna cum for me.. that’s my good fucking girl” he says pumping his fingers into you while moving his other hand to circle your clit in tight circles, so he can talk you through your orgasm.

“oh fuck daddy! oh my godnngh” your hands immediately grip suguru’s hands as you squeal and moan wantonly. your body arches and bucks as you dig your nails into him leaving little crescents on his skin. your vision dots, as your body tenses, lips parting into a silent scream as your release flies through you, wetting the tattoo bed. suguru watches your cream flow beneath you, all over his mouth. he pushes your juices back into your leaking hole, drooling at the way your hole squelches.

“there’s my good girl, oh you did so good baby mmmm” he praises lapping at your excess juices spilling down, you’re so fucking sensitive it hurts

“sug-ahh it hurts, fuckk” you whine, purring up at him as you watch suguru’s desire envelop you, you can tell he’s not done with you, but you doubt you could even take anymore.

suguru slithers up to you, kissing and licking up your boobs, making you squirm. when he reaches you he holds your face so gently, mere inches away from you.

“you forgive me baby?” suguru whispers gently stroking his nose against yours, almost purring against you like a cat “mmmm?” he purrs stroking the side of your face and caressing your limp exhausted body. you feel so warm against him, so lewd and yet so protected.

“i forgive you, you’re such an asshole” you giggle feeling a little shy again, only suguru was able to make you shy, and flush so easily. suguru whispers back a thank you and captures your lips into a searing kiss, melting you both together so passionately. you clutch onto the nape of his neck and run your fingers through his hair, earning you a moan, as suguru’s tongue dances with yours sensually. he grips your hips, pulling you against him. you can feel his bulge pulsing for you-

“suguru, aye we’re back! and u’ve got another appointment waiting!” you both hear from downstairs at the reception, shoko calling out to suguru followed by gojo following suit making a ruckus, throwing a tantrum about his arm

“dudeee, where tf r u? i coulda died!” gojo shouts out. you can hear him coming up the stairs to suguru’s office

“mmm fuck suguru, they’re coming up” you gasp up to suguru who still refuses to take notice of them. he smirks, choosing to still feel all up on you

“mmmm don’t care c’mere” suguru states, you roll your eyes

“suguruuu c’mon” you smirk, pushing against him

“ugghh for fucksake” suguru huffs moving off of you, taking your hand and pulling you up to him making you yelp with excitement. you both come to your senses though when you hear gojo’s footsteps up the stairs getting close, both of you scrambling to put your dress back on and get you both presentable.

suguru then holds your chin, so you both look at each other

“what?” you nervously laugh at his intense look

“let me take you out yn? i’ve missed you so much baby” suguru pleads while stroking the side of your cheek with his thumb

“mmmm i dunno sug, dependdss on where you’re gonna take me” you smirk up at him

“let me worry about that baby, i wanna treat you, try and make it up to you” suguru implores and then kisses your forehead just as gojo barges in-

“sUgUruUuu!!”

♡ ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

[httpdwaekki]

bad day | s.c.

summary: you messed up at work, leading to an anxiety filled, draining day but luckily your beautiful boy is there to make it all better.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: not proofread, lots too many of pet names, nudity (nothing sexual), mentions of anxiety and dissociation, pure fluff. lmk if i missed any.

a/n: v self indulgent because i fucked up at work a few days ago and have been anxious and need some good ole binnie fluff in my life. i haven't written in a while so feedback is always appreciated. love u, drink ur water, take ur medicine and remember ur loved <3

*lowercase intended*

my library

(pictures not mine! credits to owner)

to say you were having a bad day would be an understatement. you were tired, you were grumpy, and didn’t feel good. but it all came crumbling down the moment you realized you had missed an important deadline for work. you misread the date for an important project, which meant you had to send in it yesterday and not today.

you were defeated. you wanted to go home and curl up into a soft blanket and shut the world out. but unfortunately you had to finish out an anxiety riddled work day, waiting for your boss to come in and berate you. luckily that never came but it didn’t stop the side comments from your coworkers, about how much of a headache you’ve caused. you finished your work day but the anxiety never left.

you’ve never driven home faster, just wanting to shower and cuddle with your boyfriend and forget about your day. as you opened the door to your apartment, you kicked off your shoes, threw down your work bag and leaned against the door, letting out a sigh of relief.

“jagiya?” you had to keep your tears at bay, just hearing his voice after the day you’d had, made you crumble. you make your way to the living room where you find your boyfriend in sweats and a t-shirt, hair in its natural, slightly disheveled state and glasses, slightly slipping off his nose. 

you couldn’t stop the pout from forming before dropping yourself next to him, shoving your upper body into him. “yah! jagi, what’s wrong?” he asks, confused by your sudden move and mood. you just shake your head, burying yourself further into him. he understands immediately, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your head.

“okay, jagi, okay, it’s okay.” he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on your back. you two sit like this for a while, him whispering sweet nothings, pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. once he felt you relax a bit,  he pressed a long kiss to your hair before pulling back a bit. “bunny?” he moves his hand to the nape of your neck. “can you look at me for a second please?”

you sniffle before wiping your eyes, moving so you were sitting in front of him on his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands drop to your waist, rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs. you start playing with the hem of his shirt, just collecting your thoughts.

“what’s going on, hm?” he taps your chin lightly, “ what’s got my jagi so upset?” you sigh, finally glancing up to meet his eyes. “i just had a really bad day.” you mumbled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt once more. “oh, bunny.” he coos, placing his hand on your cheek, wiping a stray tear because gently caressing the soft skin.

“do you wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. you shook your head, “i just want cuddles and maybe a nap.” he nodded, “okay sweet girl. come on then.” he slowly scoots to the edge, “ wrap your legs around me, sweet girl.” he whispered, tapping your thighs. you wrapped your legs around his torso, before wrapping your arms around his neck, shoving your face in his neck.

“good job baby, you ready?” he asks, placing his hands under your thighs. you nod against him, tighten your limbs wrapped around him. he effortlessly stands up, adjusting slightly before making way to your shared bedroom.

once in the room, he gently lays you on the bed. “i’m gonna get you something comfy to wear, okay baby?” you nod, reluctantly letting go of him. you grab a blanket, hugging it, waiting for his return.

minutes pass, you feel yourself dissociate before your beautiful boy appears in front of you with shorts and your (his) favorite hoodie. he places the articles on the bed before sitting in front of you, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. snapping you back to reality, looking at him, a small smile forming on his face. “hi my baby.” he whispers, thumb gently caressing your cheek. your eyes soften looking back at him, “hi.” you mumbled back.

“i’m gonna help you get changed, okay?” you nodded, gently grabbing the hand on your cheek, kissing the palm, a token of your gratitude. he smiles, rubbing your cheek, kissing your forehead, standing up.

“i’m gonna take off your shirt. okay?” you nod, putting your hands up. he grabs the hem of your shirt, bringing it up and over your head. “do you want me to take your bra off too, baby?” you nod, reaching behind to undo the clasp. he grabs the straps, pulling it from your body, giving each shoulder a peck.

“my beautiful girl.” he mumbled, kissing your cheek before grabbing the hoodie, slipping it over your head, letting you slip your arms through the sleeves. “do you want shorts or no?” he asked holding them for you to see. you pondered for a second before shaking your head no. he nodded, putting the shorts back on the bed, before lightly tapping your thigh, “stand up for me bunny.” you stand up, pulling the sleeves over your hands.

changbin makes quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping your itchy jeans, leaning down to pull them down gently. you place your sleeve covered hands on his shoulders to stable yourself as you step out of the uncomfortable material. he lays the jeans to the side for him to deal with later.

he places a soft kiss on each thigh on his way back up. he reaches behind you, moving the soft blankets, to give you space to slip under them. “come on, jagiya.” he says softly, watching you make home under the covers. he pulls the covers up to your chin, tucking you in before placing a callused hand on your cheek, stroking it a few times before placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

you let out a sigh of relief, feeling the anxiety leaving your body little by little. he pulls away, grabbing the shorts and your work clothes from the day, making his way to your closet, throwing the clothes in the laundry baskets and placing the shorts back in their place.

he walks back over to his side of the bed, repeating the same process with the blankets before pulling you into his chest. you relax into his chest as he wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on the top of your head. you place a soft kiss over his heart, as a silent thank you for taking care of you.

“i don’t know what happened,” he starts softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “but whatever it was, i hope you know how proud i am of you and love you no matter what. you put your all into what you do and i know you and i know you’re beating yourself about it but please don’t” he pauses.

“ i know it’s easier said than done but fuck baby, i hate seeing you tear yourself down. you work so hard, and you never give yourself a break and it breaks my heart.” you feel the familiar lump begin to form once more. you shake your head before covering your face with your hands, before shoving it back into his chest.

“i just feel so stupid and defeated.” you cried. you feel him tightened his arms around you, one arm around you back, the other cradling the back of your neck. “baby you’re not stupid, please never say that again.” he places a kiss on your hair. “you’re the smartest, most intelligent person i’ve ever met.”

you shook your head, pulling away slightly, before taking a breath. “what’s going on, what happened today?” he asked softly, wiping your tears. “i fucked up.” you whispered. “i thought i had another day for my project but it was due yesterday.” you explained, playing with strings of your hoodie. “my boss is upset, everyone’s mad at me, they keep making side comments about how i’ve caused a headache and it’s all too much.” you roll onto your back, looking up at the ceiling, trying to stop your tears.

“baby.” you don’t move, scared of what he’s gonna say next. “baby, look at me.” you turn head to face him, tears glistening on your eyelashes. “ you are not stupid. you are human and you made an honest mistake, okay?.” he paused, waiting for you to respond.

you nodded. “and you know what, fuck your coworkers and your boss, they’re all bitch made and complain about the stupidest things anyway.” you giggled, covering your face once more..

“shut up, bin.” you laughed. “no no no, i just got you smiling again, don’t hide from me.” he joked, grabbing your hands, revealing your smiling, tear-stained face. “there she is.” he cooed. you blushed looking up at him, suddenly tugging im down to you. “yah!” he exclaimed, giggling with you.

you hugged him tight, his arms coming to do the same. you shove your face into his neck, staying there for a moment before placing a kiss there. “thank you, bubba,” you murmured into his skin. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.” squeezing him one more time before feeling him pull away.

you let him go, arms resting on his biceps, looking at each other for a moment. he then starting smothering your face in kisses causing you to giggle once more. “binnie! oh my god, please.” you say laughing pushing him back. 

“okay okay, i’m sorry i just wanted to hear you laugh again.’ he conceded.”but seriously, you never have to thank me for that, it’s what i’m here for, okay?” you smiled and nodded. “good, now naptime for my favorite sleepy girl.” he said before giving you a kiss followed by a loud “muah!” laying down, pulling you into him again. 

you settle against his chest once more, feeling lighter and tired. “i love you so much my sweet, smart girl, never forget that.” you blush, kissing his heart once more. “i love you too binnie, more than you know..” a light smile, gracing your face once more as you feel yourself falling into dreamland, in the arms of your favorite boy.

a/n: ngl i got lost in the sauce and it was taking too long to finish this so i kinda rushed the ending but i'll try to revisit it when i proofread it to improve it :)

[stomach-bugg09]

heyyy, could you maybe write a fic with the entire sully family x reader, where she is part of the metkayina clan, and after they get to stay she has to introduce the family to everything (instead of tsireya and aonung). They get closer and she’s a good friend to them.

She is very sweet, loves children and treats tuk like her own (this is a key element hihi)

So one day, after she goes out with tuk to entertain her, they get attacked by someone you can decide (I’m sorry but I need something angsty😭) and reader protects tuk and saves her life.

But, and here comes the “plot twist”, the sully’s misunderstand the situation and think reader did it on purpose or was trying to hurt tuk and they’re all angry and furious at her, not letting her explain.

So she retreats and doesn’t leave her marui pod for days, until someone from the clan clears it up, and they apologise to her… YOU CAN DECIDE THE ENDING, WETHER ITS HAPPY OR SAD!!!!

Thank u in advance and I have to say, I absolutely love your writing, every time I finish one of ur fics I crave moreeeee!!!❤️

summary: [y/n] saves the life of tuk, but at what cost?

a/n: hopefully this turned out good !! i’m kind of bad when it comes to misunderstanding trope because i kind of hate it ( whoopsies ) but i think it turned out okay ?? i’m just glad i finally was able to publish something after a few days. reblogs + feedback are always appreciated !!

tags: @rafeslovergirl@wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass @nyotamalfoy @23victoria

warnings: mentions of blood, injury, fear, a monster-like creature pursuing tuk and [y/n], jake and neytiri being kind of mean, scars, almost dying, passing out, a lil angst, happyish ending

words: 2.4k

i would do it again

she hadn’t meant for it to go the way that it did. everytime she replayed the scene in her head, tears pricked [y/n]’s eyes. what could’ve happened—what should’ve happened. she continued to thank eywa that both her and tuk made it out alive and safe.

it’d been that morning when the youngest sully bounded up to [y/n] in the middle of her chores. “[y/n]!” she cried, joy evident in her voice.

[y/n] could not help but grin, looking up from the net that she was busy detangling. “good morning, darling tuk!”

the sully family had been in awa’atlu for several months at that point, but [y/n] had been friends with them since they first arrived. [y/n] was a former warrior of the clan, despite how young she was. she was only twenty years old, but after a former event resulting in a very severe injury, [y/n] was quickly deferred to a safer alternative that still allowed her to help her clan.

after the incident, [y/n] found herself working with the children. it was her job to begin teaching them the ways of the water, which included breathing, swimming, and free-diving. when they got to the age of learning to hunt, they were passed along to another teacher.

that was how [y/n] first met the sullys.

after tsireya and ao’nung toured the village with them, the future tsahik introduced them to [y/n]. “she will be helping us teach you our ways.”

and so she did. although her schedule was far too busy to always attend the lessons, [y/n] was there as much as she possibly could, rewarding each and every child on their progress.

[y/n] was also introduced to neytiri and jake sully by tonowari. the ole’eyktan was quick to tell them of her honorable history, especially regarding the injury. [y/n] didn’t miss the way the toruk makto’s sympathetic eyes flickered to the large scar that still burdened her up and down her right leg. but, for the first time in a long time, his careful stare did not cause her insecurity. instead, it made her feel safe, especially as she limped up and down the beach.

it did not take long for the sully family to entrust [y/n]. she was kind, caring, and she was always there to help them. a part of [y/n] drifted to the sully family once neytiri began treating her as if she was one of their own, often inviting her over for dinner.

for the first time in years, ever since the deaths of her parents, [y/n] felt like she had a true family again.

so, given their history, [y/n] was not at all shocked at the arrival of tuk on that sunny morning.

“[y/n]!” she yelled once again, stopping in front of the metkayina girl. “oh my eywa, [y/n],” tuk panted, hands clasping her knees as she caught her breath.

“oh, my!” [y/n] laughed, smiling up from where she sat on the dock. “what is the matter, dear?”

“it is so nice out today!”

[y/n] chuckled at that. “oh, isn’t it?” leave it to tuk to cause a panic only for her to exclaim that the weather was good.

“we should go out,” tuk decided, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she gave [y/n] a look.

[y/n] only raised the muscles above her eyes. “you think so?”

tuk nodded vigorously. “yes, i do! kiri is busy with mother, lo’ak wants nothing to do with me, and neteyam refuses to take me out ever.” once she finished her short rant, she stuck out her bottom lip and widened her eyes. “please, [y/n]?”

“tuk,” [y/n] groaned, covering her eyes with her hands. “that’s unfair. you’re too adorable to refuse!”

tuk grinned pridefully. “i know, isn’t it awesome?”

just like that, the two soon found themselves sharing a ride on an ilu through the reef. [y/n] smiled at the way tuk’s arms flew outwards, allowing her to reach out and feel the tingling sensation as they passed through the thick waters.

the coral was gorgeous that morning thanks to the rays of sunlight that beamed through the surface, lighting up the seafloor. “look,” [y/n] signed to tuk, pointing out a crab that waddled across the ground.

a chuckle left the sully’s lips as indicated by the small trail of bubbles that floated above them. [y/n] grinned at the way tuk raised her hand, waving at the small creature that strolled across the ocean floor.

of course, it could only stay perfect for so long, and unfortunately, the perfection did not last long enough.

[y/n] immediately felt something was wrong when the water turned the slightest bit colder. although the sully girl did not notice, the chills rising on [y/n]’s arms sent her panicking. when her ilu rumbled in dismay beneath them, she knew they needed to turn around.

“it is time to go back,” [y/n] signed quickly, the annoyance being difficult to ignore from behind her. before tuk could sign anything back, the older girl rose her hand and gestured for her to stay quiet.

just as she directed the ilu to turn around, [y/n] noticed how quiet it was. for once in her life, [y/n] could hear nothing. it was just them and the ocean.

the fish were gone, fleeing into their homes. the crab on the ground was quickly sheltered by his hole in the sand. not even the water swayed all that much. a chill settled deep in [y/n]’s bones.

she panicked at the feeling of tuk’s arms wrapping around her waist, the sully’s small face pressed into her back. it was when she felt tuk’s hand hit her that she was prompted to look up from where she observed the quiet reef.

[y/n] nearly choked on the salty water when the sight of large animal. it loomed overtop of them, a shadow cast on top of them from his mere size. it’s flippers were large, but not nearly as large as his teeth were.

although it was only split seconds, it felt like a billion years until either of them made their first move.

when the creature attempted to close the distance between them, [y/n] sent the ilu flying beneath the beast. she swallowed a yelp at the feeling of the water by her ear, his mouth nearly having chomped it off had they not moved so fast.

unfortunately, the monster was as smart as it was quick, and it was soon adjusting. with one last look over her shoulder, [y/n] sent the ilu shooting forward.

tuk’s arms clasped [y/n] desperately, her eyes hidden from reality due to the fear it brought. at that, [y/n] urged the creature they rode on to swim even faster.

as much as the ilu tried, it was nothing compared to the fins that carried the monster behind them. once [y/n] felt it catching up, the only thing she could think to do was unattached her queue from the ilu and grab tuk. as they rolled off the side, [y/n] choked back a scream at the sight of her ilu being swallowed by the beast in one quick gulp.

blood blossomed in the water. tuk stared aimlessly, her cries not going unheard. [y/n] grabbed her face, pressing a hand overtop her mouth. not only could the beast hear, but tuk was losing breath.

“hush, darling,” she signed, eyes attentive to their surroundings. “you must be quiet. it will all be okay, do you understand?” tuk only nodded.

they hid behind a large rock-like structure, and [y/n] carefully peeked out to catch an understanding of where they stood versus the beast. she instantly rolled back around, back pressed against the textured piece of nature. he was close. dangerously so.

and so, [y/n] began to hatch a plan. as she would swim out, tuk would start swimming towards the surface. [y/n] was a trained warrior and swimmer, she could outswim the monster if she used the coral to her advantage. tuk just had to get back to civilization.

just as she turned to tell tuk of her plan, it appeared that it was far too late. she only whimpered once she felt the cold temperatures of the shade once again.

[y/n] grabbed tuk’s hand, praying to eywa that tuk would stay strong and stay smart. at least one of them needed to make it out alive, and it had to be tuk.

with one last squeeze of her hand, [y/n] stood up and locked eyes with the creature. behind her back, her fingers moved gracefully to communicate to tuk.

once she was done, she brought her hands above her head, making herself seem bigger as a small attempt, although it was more of a signal to tuk. with her arms up, tuk launched herself out and up, and the beast launched itself directly at [y/n].

she dodged almost perfectly if it weren’t for the spikes that took over his skin. she hissed as her skin caught one of the thorns, flesh tearing quickly.

[y/n]’s plan was, unfortunately, not at all fool-proof. dread settled in her gut as the beast’s eyes broke away from her and instead watched the distance thanks to the sight of a swimming na’vi.

“no!” she tried to scream, although the words came out extremely muffled because of the quick water.

and so, she let every primal instinct she ever had take over.

[y/n]’d never swam so fast in her life. she let the water take over, let eywa bless her and her senses. for the first time in a couple years, she could not feel the injury of her leg. it was just her and the sea.

her eyes did not leave tuk once, not even when the swam side-by-side with the monster. not even when he nearly ate her. she was far too quick for him.

they were throat-to-throat, and yet, at the last second, [y/n] sped ahead of the beast and launched herself on top of tuk. she cradled the girl as the water seemed to burst in every direction.

and then she blacked out.

when [y/n] awoke, she found herself in the comforts of her own home. the sun blinked through the marui, a feeling that caused [y/n] to smile.

that smile was quickly gone once she remembered exactly what happened before she’d passed out.

when [y/n] shot up, tsireya was quick to attend her side. “[y/n]!” she calmed, voice quiet and gentle. “[y/n], it is okay. you are okay! you are safe.”

[y/n] couldn’t even form full sentences. “tuk.”

“tuk is alive and well. she’s been awake for an hour or so, waiting for you.” tsireya’s smile faded. “but.. the sullys are keeping her from visiting.

[y/n]’s eyes narrowed at the news, confusion clouding her head. “what? why?”

“they think you did it.”

days go by, and [y/n] was quiet. quieter than she has been in years, ever since her injury. ever since her parents death. the guilt was nearly the same, nearly just as heart-wrenching.

they did not trust her. they thought she would hurt tuk. the mere thought of it sent [y/n] spiralling.

the olo’eyktan’s family tried to visit her often, but she was cut off. even when they did somehow make it inside, she was dry, often not even answering them. it was as if she pretended they didn’t exist.

[y/n] didn’t look so good either. she was leaving her own health as the last of her priorities, as if they didn’t matter compared to the fact that they didn’t trust her.

it was only thanks to the trustful word of tsireya that the sullys finally had clear enough minds to come and visit.

it was a quiet night, the only sound heard being the crash of the waves against the shore. [y/n] was busy poking at the food ao’nung delivered just moments before. she couldn’t find an appetite to even attempt eating the food, despite what she promised him.

at the sound of two bodies walking into her pod, she jumped onto her feet. ever since the incident, she was on extremely high alert. even when she slept at night, all she saw were the jaws of that monster… and then the way that the sea exploded around her.

time froze when she saw the guilty faces of jake and neytiri.

“[y/n],” jake’s voice was quiet, broken. almost as bad as she felt. “[y/n], we are so sorry.”

[y/n] only blinked. “why?” she swallowed, putting her food down behind her before taking a step towards the couple. “why in the world should you be sorry? it was only like i risked my life for your daughter and you didn’t even have the kindness to come and talk to me.” she shook her head. “i had to hear it from tsireya that you hated me. you didn’t give me a chance.”

neytiri sniffled, eyes full of guilty tears. “we understand. and that is why we are here.” she attempts to step towards [y/n], but retracts when she feels the younger girl tense. with a quick sigh, she continues. “we were worried. worried about our baby. all we knew is that you washed up together, and tuk was hurt because of something out on the reef. you were the only one with her. and we just… we thought, since you knew the reef so well, there was no way you could have run into such trouble.”

[y/n] paused before shaking her head. “i don’t know what that monster was,” she whispered. “i have never seen such a ghastly thing in my life.”

jake nods. “we know. we know that now, and we should have never doubted you. for that, we are so extremely sorry, and we are so extremely thankful that you kept tuk alive.”

[y/n] paused. after the years she spent grappling for approval from everybody on the island, after gaining it through risking her life, this was the first time that she truly felt fulfillment.

when tears welled up in her eyes, she allowed the parents to hug her. at the warmth of their arms around her trembling body, she whispered, “i would do it again.”

[withonly-sweetheart]

Beast

He took you with him to his haven in the woods, against your will, but you've grown used to him. Betrayal falls from your fingertips, the glinting blade you've always held.

read part one here !! (wont make sense until you have)

a/n: mint anon ilysm i really appreciate the support and ill always love you !! i hope you enjoy this final part, ik its a bit rushed but im working on a lot of other things rn ! requests always come first tho ! <3 lysm would love ur feedback and take on this!

tw: angst, major character death <- thats literally me bro, non explicit nsfw? i think? idk anymore mentions of war and stuff

wc: 2.5k

They arrive the morning after, when you’re still numb with grief, forced to face the people that have Leon’s mystical sheen, the ethereal, otherworldly glow that you grew so used to seeing only on him. It looks strange, unnatural on the duo standing in front of you.

“It has come to our attention that my son,” the man, hands cupped in a somewhat whimsical manner, grits out, “is being held prisoner in your dingy dungeon.”

“More than what he deserves, the beast,” your mother scoffs into your ear, leaning back at a sharp glance from your king. His Highness turns back to your visitors, standing precariously at the edge of the drawbridge, as if entering is declaring things you should not speak of.

“He impersonated us,” he says, eerily calm. “You, of all, should understand how insulting that is.”

“And we formally apologize on his behalf,” he retorts. You can see Leon pass in shadows, in the way his mouth tightens when he’s irritated, in the fringe that covers his eyes, far older and wiser than the man you thought you knew.

“How would you like to apologize for the death of this maiden’s father?” The king nudges you forward with his scepter, and you stumble towards them. Their gazes are uncaring as they scan you, eyebrows raised as if to mock your expression.

"We know nothing of this," the man answers sternly.

"Our son would never harm an innocent," the woman clinging to his side, who you assume to be his wife, adds.

"And yet your boy wore our faces to deceive the people," your king reminds them coolly.

"If what you claim is true, justice must be served,” Leon’s father says slowly. "We wish only to see our son. If you accuse him of crimes, let him defend himself before you in a court of law."

“We are far past the court of law,” one of the knights bursts out, stepping forward. You recognize him as one of the men always surrounding the king, perhaps a member of his personal guard. His eyes are crazed as an identically dressed man pulls him back. “Your son deserves nothing but-”

“Child,” the king interrupts, turning to you and nodding thoughtfully, stroking the slight stubble growing on his chin. “You were there. You know him best. Tell us what you think.”

Leon’s mother sneers at you. “The nerve of your tyrant king, keeping innocents locked away under some false pretense no doubt. Mark my words, he will pay if any harm has come to my boy,” she hisses angrily. “Watch what you say around us, mortal.”

You shift uncomfortably, glancing at your mother. “Your son is not what he says. It is true, he killed my father in the woods. But… I do not believe him to be a bad man.”

You wince at the collective gasp that comes from your people. Your king steps away from you, as if you have suddenly caught a strange disease with your words.

“Nevertheless,” he remarks, as if you had never spoken. “If you want your son, you will have to fight for him.”

Whenever something like this has been declared, you have always seen anger flare to life in the opponent’s eyes, making them seem insignificant, not truly something to consider. But it is unsettling, the level looks on their faces.

Leon’s father cocks his head to the side, and you swear that it’s not him anymore, but his son, standing there in front of you, a taunting smile tugging his lips in the opposite directions.

“If that is what you wish.”

They didn’t look back.

Dinner that night is served with an awkward silence, as your mother’s eyes bore into you across the table, asking the silent question that you don’t wish to answer. Eventually she outright expresses her outrage, slamming her hands down onto the table.

You solemnly watch a blueberry roll down the tablecloth, plopping onto the floor with a sad squishing sound. “Ma, yes, I know. But you told me to be honest!”

“Because I thought I changed your mind,” she seethes, cold heartedly, fingers clenching into fists. You get the feeling she’s itching to mess up your face. “But evidently, I was wrong.”

“You’re the only one who'll never understand,” you mumble, reaching for the glass of juice near you. It seems strangely dark for apple juice, but you must’ve requested something else. Things seem to slip from your thoughts more and more often now, especially when your mom stares at you, looking down at you like you’re just a small child, confused, like it’s all your fault.

“There will be a war,” she calls out as you excuse yourself, storming as quietly as you can away from her, away from the sense of agony that floats around your mother, threatening to infect you as well. “I hope you realize you are the cause.”

Her words echo through your head, thoughts that swirl in a hazy mess, refusing to settle. Your head feels fuzzier than usual, dark shapes dancing at the edges of your vision even with eyes closed tight.

You toss and turn, kicking off sweat-soaked sheets as you abandon your futile attempts at rest, bolting upright, gasping, staring wild-eyed into the inky blackness that fills an area that you can’t see yet.

Dawn’s rosy fingers stretch across the sky, chasing the cotton clouds. Blinking your gummy eyes open, panic sets in when unfamiliar surroundings come into focus.

Rough wooden walls greet your bleary vision, the low ceiling beams dotted with bunches of drying herbs, their aroma lingering in the narrow bars of pale morning light that filter through a small window, doing little to illuminate the single sparse room.

Your frantic mind races to piece together how you've come to be in this place instead of your bedchamber. The last thing you recall is fitful dreams amidst the calm night.

A creak of floorboards causes you to start, snapping your head toward the noise. An old woman stands in the open doorway, regarding you with keen interest.

"Awake at last, are you?" she rasps, hobbling closer. "We’ve been waiting quite a while. Our prince must not know you as well as he thinks, hm?” She winks, the sunkissed skin around her eyes wrinkling. 

Alarm courses through you at her words. “Sorry, what prince?”

She laughs, a loud, booming sound you don’t even begin to expect from such a fragile looking woman. “Why, dearie, you know him quite well!”

Dread replaces the alarm, throbbing in time with your heartbeat as you shakily stand up, feeling faint, sunlight warming your skin quickly. “Are we in the forest?"

“Of course,” the old woman croaks. "The prince entrusted me with overseeing your recovery!” 

Shivering, you clutch your head, images from tortured dreams flickering at the edges of memory. "Recovery? Did he drug me?"

The crone cackles again. "Always straight to the point, that’s our prince! Yes, I've a potion or two up my sleeve. But fear not, it was for your own protection. Forces stir in these woods that seek to threaten the royal line, dear."

Unease coils in your gut like a serpent. "Then I must return at once. My kingdom needs its ruler in these troubled times." You stride for the door on unsteady legs.

”Not the human kingdom, dearie,” she chastises, tugging at your sleeve to maneuver you back to the simple bed. “Our kingdom.”

You pause, confused by her strange words. “Pardon?”

She beams, and for the first time, you feel fear. Her outwardly innocent appearance masks a mad woman, you realize.

“You aren’t too bright, are you? No matter, the princess requires little to no intelligence, yes?”

“Princess?” You frown. “Who’s the princess?”

Her grin grows, revealing crooked, uneven teeth sparkling in the gray dawn. She steps to the side, showing the open door, and the figure leaning against the wall.

“You.”

<><><><>

They have started a war. Fools upon fools sent into the forest, like they’ll find you from mere scouting. The forest is a dangerous place, but how would they know? Locked up behind their walls, deeming it safe, never truly understanding the beauty of nature without seeing it.

Nor its dangers.

“I demand to be sent home,” you say definitively, as if they would ever listen, scuffing your foot on the dirt, smearing it on the gnarled roots of the tree.

“You know I cannot allow that,” Leon murmurs, reaching up into his hair to scruff his already tousled locks, letting them fall back, shadowing his eyes. “I cannot let you go.”

“Can you not hear?”

"Why do you persist in asking when you know my answer must remain the same?" Leon replies, frustration creeping into his tone. "We've had this discussion many times."

"And I will keep having it until you see reason!" you retort. "I don't belong here against my will, lest be your bride." 

Leon sighs heavily. "If it could be different, I swear I would change everything. But fate is cruel, no?" A lopsided smile curves his lips.

"So I'm to be your prisoner forever?" Heat rises in your cheeks at the indignity of belonging to him for eternity. "Keep me locked up here while the rest of the world passes me by?"

"It's not like that and you know it," Leon says, worry lines creasing his brow. He paces a few steps before turning back to you. "I'm responsible for keeping our secrets safe. Forgive me for prioritizing that over your temporary discomfort."  

You bite back a retort, longing to wipe that sadly sympathetic look from his face. Carnations could not hold a melting candle to the flush that dusts his cheeks as he entwines his hands with yours, linking your fingers together.

“I promise I will make your life as perfect as I can,” he vows, sounding as sincere as you’ve ever heard him. Then again, how would you know? You believed him like a fool when he charmed his way through your carefully built fortresses, prodding at your heart like a madman, wanting to love you.

“I will hold you to that,” you mumble, biting your lip. He rests a hand on your chin, and tugs at the bottom of your mouth, gazing down at you with so much adoration it wells up in his peacock feathered eyes, irises the most vibrant shade of rainbow gold.

“You are fated to me,” he whispers against your ear, cupping your neck, hands dipping further down your back. “I should hope that brings you joy. I am still the same man you fell in love with.”

“Was the deception necessary?” you ask quietly. “Why could you not have told me, about my father, or of your true identity?”

“I am no fool,” he sighs against your skin. “I would’ve lost you. How you were when you had to leave me, I assume.”

“Heartbroken,” you admit, leaning back into him, melting into the whole of him, feeling separate from the world while the forest watches you, alone and not all at once.

“Well, it is good you have me to help mend it.”

His grin is the crescent moon that shines so brightly, reflecting off the sheen of sweat coating your skin, eyes the twin stars that sparkle around it.

And if his lips are the moon, and his eyes are the stars, then his mouth…

Oh, his mouth is the vast sky.

<><><><><>

You would always recognize those amber eyes, any day, any place, any time because they are the mirror to your own, depths of tar, emotions slowly dragging across the orange liquid, a fossil preserved in time.

And those eyes peer back at you on another nightly stroll, mere hours until the wedding at dawn, irises hidden in the bushes, and Leon doesn’t notice the soft rustling. You wonder how his keen ears have missed it, but perhaps your breathy whispers in them have muted it.

You grit your teeth when he tenses against you, sensing that you are not alone. He keeps an arm barred against your waist, pinning you against the chipped tree trunk as he twists over his shoulder to scan the clearing.

A flower waves goodbye to you, disappearing between the leaves, and some part of you hopes Leon notices it, grabs your hand and rushes away, vanishing into the thick, mysterious forest.

But he doesn’t. His eyes stay fixed on the bushes, trying to make anything out, and you wonder what’s got him so preoccupied, what’s got his mind racing.

The knife, your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, and you can hear it, truly, but Leon doesn’t, so you wonder whether it's true. The leather handle glints in the moonlight, shadowed by his broad frame. 

Your fingers snake around it, and for a few moments you aren’t even aware of your actions until the blade is buried deep into his skin. Warm liquid seeps from the intrusion as you freeze, dragging your eyes up, meeting Leon’s thunder lit eyes.

A broken sigh escapes his lips, through his parted teeth a torrent of ruby cuts off his air supply, sending him stumbling back from you. Instinctively you rub the area he had pressed against so roughly, already losing him.

He reaches out for you, fingers grasping at the air as he falls, however graceful as a little feathered fiend down on the dead foliage, where you had both tread mere hours ago, the bitterness you once felt towards him completely gone as he discussed your future.

Children. A boy, maybe two girls?

An empire. Anything you want, my princess.

Perfectly fine, in your eyes. You love him, don’t you?

But now here he is, lying on decaying foliage, strawberry-blonde locks spread out in a widening splash of red, a crown on his peaceful face. He doesn’t stir.

The air is thick with the earthy scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet, faint aroma of blooming honeysuckle nearby, sweet like your mother’s scent as she gathers you in her arms, a caring gesture, but the knife slips from your trembling fingers.

“You’re safe now, don’t worry, you’re with me now,” she coos, a gentle breeze whispered through the trees and past the shell of your too red ears, making the branches sway as if they were dancing at your demise.

And you’ve wished for this so many times over the weeks.

Wished to be back in her arms.

But in some cruel twist of fate, you don’t anymore.

Your eyes are stuck on Leon’s limp body, as it dissolves into feathers, paintbrushes coated in the crimson of his blood, that, just like you, are gathered between the wind’s caring fingers and swept away, just like that.

Your father was killed by his hand.

He was killed by your hand.

So it seems that there has always been a monster in you, too.

How would your mother put it?

A shaky smile spreads across your face as you tug her in further, imaging her voice in your head, just as you had with the knife.

A beast.

[hyunin]

hiiii everyone, this blog hit 1k followers the other day 🥹 tysm to anyone that has followed me here over the years! i'm sure at least a third of my followers are dead blogs from my suju (🤮) era in 2013 before i returned to gifmaking tumblr in 2020, but so many of you joined me once i returned and i'm so thankful for everyone that has reblogged my content and chatted with me and followed me up until this point! 🫶 i wanted to write some fun lil messages for my mutuals and pals below the cut, as well as shout out some people i don't necessarily speak to but like having on my dash also 💗 if u aren't mentioned on here and we're mutuals that doesn't mean i dislike u it just means i'm stupid and missed you 😭 before i get into the messages i also want to ask anyone who can to consider commissioning me for a gifset or writing by donating at least €10 to this fundraiser and sending me a screenshot of your donation! more info on that via this post. thank u so much again everyone!!! 🥳 (edit: i don't think half the mentions in this post are working so please check to see if you were mentioned even if you weren't notified!)

@redvelvetcult hi ele 🫶 i know we don't speak as often anymore but i'm always so happy to see u around and i love you <3 thank u for running yangjeongin with me even if it has been in spirit for 99% of its run LKJSDLFKJSJLKFD still wouldn't be the same without u @bataranqs hi kid! this is going to sound so lame but it's been rly fun watching u grow up over the years through awoo9, every time u use our weird ass humor it's so much funnier coming from u. thank u for hyping up everything we all do, especially my writing!! i really appreciate it and u @anyujins iwin...whew....LLKSJDKLFJLSKF i'm rly happy that we're a lot closer now than when we were last time i made one of these posts. i think we are anyway?? i forgor...but either way ilysm, thank u for your support when i've been going insane over the years and it would appear both of the stories of our love lives that we've been following for so long will have a tragic ending. LJKSDFJLKSLK but i hope we can be friends for many more moments of insanity to come and that we have more good news than bad news to share w each other soon. in the meantime it's always rly fun to talk to u and i am glad i have u in my life @miyawaki ver. i appreciate u v much if only bc u are a major provider of quality shitposts on my dash, u also being into kpop and giffing is a bonus. u are also so funny even if u are also MEAN!!!! it's funny most of the time. and u have also supported me a lot in ur own ver way over the years, and i can always count on u to give me feedback on giffing and such. i'm so happy for u that u are going to uni again and i hope u have so much fun but also don't forget about us 🔫 🫶 @seulggi gfx queen minya! u deserve a shoutout if ONLY bc u are carrying the gfx side of kpop tumblr on ur back fr. and i love seeing what u make on my dash. but u are also an awoo9er so i will give u a long AWOOOOOOOOO of appreciation ❣️ @meongppangz RI omg idk what account is best to tag u on so i tag u here. i rmr the last one of these i made i was like 'hope to talk more under better circumstances' and now we talk nearly every day LJSDFLKSDF i love that for us. thank u crazy person gc for bringing us together fr....love that we can bond over loving ggs and also hating collecting pcs and any other random shit of the day skz is doing. and giffing ofc. talking to u always makes me happy so i hope we continue talking and being friends for a long time to come 🫶 ily. also i'm going through my follow list for this in order of oldest blogs first and i just discovered y'all were one of the first skz blogs i followed. how cute @curiosityjams hi drea, we haven't spoken ages but i wanted to shout u out individually as well because i still enjoy seeing u on my dash and i still consider us friends 🫶 fellow eunbi stan...i will never forget waiting for the 2020 election results w you LMAO abt to do it all again soon...but i hope you're well and hope good things continue coming to u 🙇‍♀️ @hyunjinz agnes, backbone of stayblr that u are, i love u!! i know we don't Personally speak much at all i still feel like u are a dear friend of mine. you were one of the first ppl to support my skz content and i think you're that for a lot of people on stayblr and i think that is so sweet of u and also important for the community. u are so brave for going through the tags all the time and reblogging everything i do not have that kind of energy but i'm so glad u do!! i miss ur gifs but i'm happy that you're still around even when you don't gif. we're some of the last remaining pre-kingdom era skz ccs left 😱 so i will always appreciate ur company here <3 @innielove hi vi, i just want to say i love that u are giffing skz again. i've probably missed a lot of ur sets bc i'm bad at checking tags and dash but when i DO see them i'm like omg vi's gifs r really looking better than ever. thank u for returning to us 🫶 u have also actually been on stayblr for a long time so i'm always happy to see some of the oldies (can u believe we are oldies now...) back on the dash 😌

@kazuhas MS KALE it always makes me happy to see u on my dash here. ur gifs are so lovely and so are u!! i know we mainly know each other from off cc tumblr 🫣 but i wanted to give u a shoutout among all of my other tumblr beloveds bc ily. it's what u deserve @seo-changbinnies marie...another fellow stayblr hag at this point...u are still one of the funniest people on this site i swear. and i'm so glad u are still here and making gifs and blessing us w your funny tags. i hope u always stay just as insane, i love u for that <3 @seungs HI MIAAA we don't talk that much anymore but i wanted u to know that i still always love seeing u and your gifs on my dash 🫶 @felixies luna, legend of stayblr that u are 🙇‍♀️ i think ur work largely goes unappreciated by the fandom but u are an icon for keeping createskz running for all these years despite everything going on in ur life. tysm for your service 🫡 @huiracha marie huiracha...this is how i refer to u in my head btw. like 'huiracha' is ur last name. LKJSDFKLSKLD we have barely spoken but i want to give u your own shoutout just for surviving and continuing to gif on stayblr as long as u have. veterans' discount fr @hyunsung hi mona 🫶 we haven't spoken in a while either omg but i am still always excited to see u on my dash when u gif something or reblog something from me i'm like omg that's my friend mona :D SDKJFSJKLDF so thank u and i hope you're doing well 🙏 @hyunpic VILMA HYUNPIC...u know i am so glad we are better pals now. u are so funny and fun to talk to but also the sweetest ever!! thank u for always listening to me and being kind to me and also making me laugh. every time i feel like an rper named their hyunjin character something dumb i am glad i get to report it to u. some things only u will understand and appreciate. LKJSDKLJFSKLJFKLFD @sungtaro eri <3 we don't talk much anymore and maybe we NEVER HAVE??? but i have always felt like u are a dear friend and beloved mutual. i love seeing u on dash even if we don't have too many groups in common anymore. ur content is always lovely and so are u so we will always be pals as far as i am concerned 🫶 @exocean hi mo!! i must admit i don't have much to say but i wanted to mention you individually because you are so sweet and i love seeing u around and u deserve to know it <3 @hyumjim i don't even know what to say (positive) u know i am so glad ur squirmy wormy tag on one of my hyunjin sets brought us together. idr if we have ever properly spoken like via dm but bc u follow me on all my accounts i feel Seen by u....nd u haven't unfollowed me yet so god bless u. i always enjoy seeing ur thoughts and the posts u put on my dash whether they be a funny text post or someone's hot take getting dismantled or something Thought Provoking. my dash is definitely a better place because of u so thank uu 🫶

@wolfchans lau the Actual backbone of stayblr tysm for ur service fr. without u providing files for us i genuinely believe most of stayblr would be lost. not only do u do that but u are also genuinely very kind and make great content so i appreciate u so much!! thank u for making stayblr (and my dash) a better place @hyunebear hi adri i gotta admit i didn't even realize u were back on tumblr until i was going through my following and saw that u posted recently akljsdflkjdsf goes to show how much i'm on my dash...but i wanted to mention you individually even though it's been so long because you have genuinely touched my heart a lot and i will never forget ur compliments 🙏 ok maybe i did forget some of them word for word. but i will never forget how sweet u were to me. how about that. so thank you and i hope to see u around more!! i probably have to be on my dash more for that tho huh... @romanceuntold hi jen 🫶 i miss u on stayblr i'm ngl but i'm also still glad to see u on my dash through all your phases. you are such a warm and kind person and another person who i will never forget being so sweet to me. thank you and i hope you're doing well ❣️ @wearehappiness sidrah <3 the fact that we were both on stayblr but met properly on pc ig first is still so silly to me. me intending to wait on ur mail to get to me then being like 'stayblr perk i'll send ur mail rn' after i found out u were here LKJSDLKFLJKSF but you are suuuuch a sweet person who makes lovely gifs too. i miss ur gifs also!! and just you in general. wishing u the best in life always 💗 @mybodyfails hi oli 🫶 another person who has been soooo sweet to me, i'm so glad i got to help w leeknoween and i still have all the freebies u sent me from it preserved safely in my freebie photocard binder 😌 you are always lovely to talk to whenever we do, and thank u for reading my fic too despite zombies not being ur thing i appreciate u!! @strayklds / @facethesuns em i just think it's so funny that we like didn't speak before i invited u to the gif streaming server and i just did that on a whim bc u passed the vibe check and now i feel like we are good friends. despite still rarely speaking KSLDFLSDLKF but i love that for us and love ur gifs and seeing u around always 💞 @neohyune hi fae <3 i know us speaking is like a very recent development but i also wanted to mention u individually to thank u for your help 🙏 i need to write more of my fic tbh...but i Will be checking our conversation again for Notes. you also seem like a very sweet person so i would love to talk to u more in the future also 💕 @linoyes another very recent friendship (yes i am calling it that already) in my life, but thank u for your generosity, let's meet that fundraising goal together 💪 i hope we're also able to talk more outside of this context too. i just have a feeling i will have a lot more to say about u once i make another one of these!!

i'm ngl i don't know how many of you actually follow me here and i don't have time to check everyone's username individually so i'm just going to list a bunch of blogs i follow who may or may not follow me JKLSDFLKSDF but y'all make my dash a better place, thank u for all u do! 🫶 feel free to talk to me anytime too

@dazzlingkai @theseulgis @joytual @anyujin @cchuu @cherry-heartss @boynextdoors @hyunchans @ambivartence @minzbins @everglowz @chogiwow @ttathinker @minhosblr @minho-knows @yang-innie @leegahyun @bu99erfly

[shattersstar]

Bestie it is me, the anon from a couple of days ago, many mutual kisses for my favorite tumblr writer!!! I am a teensy weensy (read: very much) cross faded and was wondering if you would be willing to write just a little thing with the “desperate kiss in the rain” prompt from the list featuring Jason Todd or Adrian Tepes? I feel the need to be In My Feelings about fictional romance lmao

ghost of love

pairing: jason todd x reader

prompt: a desperate kiss in the rain

a/n: wrote this stoned lmaoo so twins <3 and thank u for the request ur so kinddd im actually p happy with this so here goes my first fic of 2023 besties. feedback is always appreciated!!!

—

Ghost of love bound unto your name

So it be running through my veins

Yesterday I fell out of grace

I made you feel bad again

I wanted all your reasons explained

Guess I wanted too much

Guess I wanted too much

—

Spring had made its way to Gotham, snow melting into slush and flooding the streets as the days grew longer and the winter chill started to recede. It crept into the past as singing birds and allergies were to come. It was supposed to be a time of happiness, of excitement for warmth before the general population complained about the heat plaguing the city in a few months time. But Jason watched the rain that had cleansed the city for a week already with certain disdain.

His apartment was silent save the rain’s ambiance—it hadn’t been this quiet in ages. Hadn’t been so hollow and empty since you came into his life. A presence to warm the space even when you sat in silence scrolling through your phone. Or when you cooked and hummed to yourself or when you took phone calls in his bedroom and didn’t think he could hear you sing his praises. It should’ve made his heart swell, flattered by your adoration of him, and yet it made Jason anxious. Nausea flowering in his throat at the sounds of your lies on his behalf, covering up the life he lead all while admitting how deeply you felt for him. He had heard that phone call so many times, a quick tangent usually, but it stuck with him nonetheless.

It was those moments—sweet and tender—he turned into something dark, twisted. The way you unabashedly reached for his hand at the grocery store, or called his name in a room full of people felt…wrong. You weren’t supposed to be like this with him, no one was. Jason didn’t deserve such kind words and outward gestures of love, and you didn’t deserve to be trapped with him. Stuck in something that could never really be anything. You were too good for Gotham and for him. He had always known it, tried to ignore it and just dwell in the bliss that came from being with you, but his guilt was stronger. More consuming than the feelings he had for you. It made breaking your heart painful, but a necessity.

He wasn’t yours to love, to have. He had said those words to you, “I’m not for you to love, or to be with. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep playing house anymore. This isn’t my life. You aren’t.”

His voice was cold, empty as he spoke. You couldn’t hide the hurt in your eyes, tears threatening to spill. “Then go.” It was all you were able to muster, standing in your apartment as he let himself out without another word.

He wanted to add it was because he loved you, but it felt cruel. He had to remind himself he wasn’t yours to love. Jason wasn’t for anyone.

And he believed his words, for weeks on end he told himself over and over again that he made the right decision. Threw himself into work and tried to burn you from his memory with violence and power. Jason ignored what headlines you might see—what you might think of him. He had never let himself care before, you told him what he did with that life was not for you to be apart of if he choose to keep you separate. You said it casually, with a shrug like Jason was supposed to know. Know that respect and privacy he could never ask from someone was being offered freely.

Jason supposed you’d keep your word, keep your distance from the bloody and chaotic side of his life despite him leaving you. You were good like that, honest and uncompromising when you needed to be. It made him smile despite the torrential downpour, knowing there was something good still in Gotham. Something—someone worth fighting for.

Yet, as something akin to peace washed over Jason, fate played its hand and it sent him reeling. A notification lit up his phone sitting on the kitchen table. It drew his attention away from the window he had been staring out of for a while, compelling him across the room and to read the two words that broke his heart.

I’m moving. A message you sent a minute ago, two words hanging in the ether that left Jason short of breath. He had already lost you, but this was like sand slipping through his fingers all while a tsunami rushed the shore. It made his stomach knot and guilt trickled into his chest like a steady stream. You couldn’t leave the city you had made a life in because of him. Because of the pain he caused you—no that grief, that guilt, would swallow him whole. Devour him till he was nothing, but bone to burn to ash one day.

Jason was out of his apartment in record time, not dawned in his suit, but enough tactical wear to hop across rainy rooftops safely. He ignored the chill of the rain that drenched him in mere minutes, he slicked his wet hair back and regretted his leather jacket as he landed an apartment over from yours. He huffed out a few breaths, calves flexing and whining from the amount of work he just put them through to get here. Jason steadied his breathing as best he could, grappling over the alleyway and to his surprise, landing right behind you. You were next to a small pigeon coop someone kept on the roof, the stretching piece of plywood was a makeshift roof you just fit under. You had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the bottom corner wet with rain water likely from the puddles on the roof.

He let out a sigh that caught your attention. You glanced over your shoulder before your face fell. Your phone was still in your hands and Jason wondered if you texted him because you were up here. Staring out into the city and thinking of him as he was you. “You’re moving.” He found himself saying, more accusatory than he intended, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when desperation wafted off of him in waves.

“Yeah, I just…can’t with this city anymore.” You turned fully, you had never looked so small before. So withered and tired. You look like you had been crying recently and Jason’s resolved weakened. He assured himself that cutting you out of his life was right, to save you pain in the long run, but the pain you wore so clearly now was a gut punch. It was wrenching and Jason didn’t know what to say to fix anything.

“When?” He asked instead.

“Not sure, Im gonna stay with a friend in another city for a bit before I figure everything out. Think I have someone to take over my lease so…” The idea of someone else living here made his head spin. This space was an extension of you—he could see your interest in what you hung up on your walls, your love in the plants littered around the space, your happiness in the smell of food mixing with the candles you burned and even your old grumpy cat belonged to this space as much as you did. It was one of the only places in Gotham Jason could…breathe. Think or not think and he was losing that and you—

“No.” He gritted through his teeth.

“No?” That wasn’t meant for your ears, he was trying to silence his own thoughts. He cursed to himself and turned away from you, rain soaking his face as his only then remembered it was pouring. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent you that text…I think I knew you’d show up here—I’m sorr—“

“No.” This time it was for you, even if he still refused to face you, let you see the regret plain on his face. “I don’t want you to leave Gotham like this…not because of me.”

“I know, and I wish I could stay, but Jay its too hard. Being here and trying to move on is killing me.” You were calm, calmer than he anticipated. He wanted anger, he wanted you to throw his words in your face, scold him for showing up when he was the one that forced you away. And yet, you tried to apologize and were being honest with him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to stay, but I’m sorry for how I ended things. You don’t—didn’t—deserve any of this.” Jason was never one to admit his wrongs, but this was the end of something that meant everything to him once. He couldn’t let you go with resentment between you two. You let a beat of silence pass, eyes fallen to the ground between your bodies as you processed his words. Your brows pulled together and you took a step closer to him. You weren’t out in the rain yet, but stood close enough to the edge to make sure your words hit him clearly.

“What did you mean by that? Didn’t deserve…what? What we had before? Didn’t deserve a good relationship? Didn’t deserve to be happy? I know I don’t deserve how you’ve treated me since, like I never existed, but what didn’t I deserve before? You?” Your tone was jaded, it wasn’t angry, but hurt. It made the knot in his stomach twist, his heart wrenching at the thought of you undeserving of good things. It was all you deserved, it was all he wanted for you.

Jason whipped around as he spoke, breathless before the words even left his mouth, “You didn’t deserve to be in a barely real relationship. I can’t be the person you deserve to be with, I can’t offer that much of myself to you.”

Another beat, you hovered by the edge of the makeshift roof, before letting you blanket slip off your shoulders behind you. You stepped into the rain and took him in properly, soaked from head to toe, but Jason was still bathed beautifully in the moon and streetlights that barely touched buildings this high.

“I knew all of that, I knew it wouldn’t always be normal, but I accepted it Jay. I chose to look past the parts of your life you didn’t want to share, because I didn’t care. I still don’t. What we had was a real relationship Jason, to me at least, and I didn’t even think anything was wrong when you broke up with me. I thought it was actually great, for what we were working with.” You laughed at the end, watery, but your voice stayed strong. You meant what you said, Jason blindsided you more when he left you than with his Red Hood confession. His admittance to the double life he lead was a blow, but one you could digest. Jason leaving you? It was a grenade set off from within your ribcage that left no survivors. It was pain beyond grappling with the violence that surrounded the man you loved.

“But that isn’t fair to you. I can’t give you everything, but I know I’ll take everything you can give. You get half a person and—“

“I make that choice, not you. I’ll take half a person if its you. I’ve always known I’ll love you more, be able to give you more because I’m sharing you with a city hellbent on destroying itself. When you’re the only person I want to share anything with, of course you can have it all.” He was silent, staring into the dark skies and wondering what he did to deserve you. Had he suffered enough that it was finally time to enjoy the peace?

You put your hand on his arm, urging him to look. He let his eyes meet yours reluctantly as you sniffled. “I don’t need what you think is real Jason. I just need you.” Your voice was a soft plea, fingers tightening around his leather jacket. He stared down at you, so much ache in his chest for ever thinking life made more sense without you there. He wanted to apologize, again and again until his voice went hoarse. He wanted to fall into your arms and sleep for days after weeks of restless nights. He wanted to cook your favourite meals you always said never tasted as good when you did it. He wanted to forgive and be forgiven for all the hurt swirling between the two of you.

But all he could manage was a plea of his own, almost drowned out by the spring rain that washed away the cold weeks you both spent unbearably lonely, “Don’t leave Gotham.”

You nodded, “Don’t give me a reason too.”

The knot churning inside his stomach disappeared with your soft words, making him breathe out a laugh. It was surprised, relieved and everything you needed to hear. A smile broke over your face and the tears brimming in your eyes finally spilled over as you closed the distance between you two. Your hands rested on the lapels of his jacket. He let his cradle your jaw as the rain engulfed you both, foreheads pressing together as the moment overtook you two. It felt like a dream, like everything Jason wanted was suddenly in the palm of his hands and he couldn’t believe it. Believe he had let you go and somehow managed to get you back. He couldn’t decide what you deserved, but god he’d try be the person you needed him to be.

He wanted to say that, promise you he’ll try, but words failed him at times like this. Jason was all need, desperate for you to understand how much he loved you. All he could do was act, fingers tightening and tilting your head up before his mouth crashed into yours. It was hungry and pleading, begging and convincing you to stay with him forever. To know his love forever. You kissed him back with as much urgency as you could muster, just as desperate for his touch as he was yours. It was deprave how you both nearly crumbled when his teeth tasted your bottom lip. You hands had slid under his jacket, pulling you flush against him as your fingers fisted the dry fabric against his spine. He shuddered into you, pulling away with a heaving chest. You rested your chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with happy tears still overflowing. He brought this thumbs to the corners of your eyes, brushing them away before kissing you again.

His lips met yours slower this time, mending the harshness from his last kiss. It was just as needy, lips finding the corners of your mouth, cheeks and jaw before he found his way back to your mouth. Jason’s tongue swiped over your lips, one of his hands moved to cradle the curve of your skull, letting your head fall back as he left open mouthed kissed against yours. Your tongue slid over his and you wished you were in bed. Sat comfortably atop him and making out on some boring Tuesday afternoon. It was always those moments, those days when everyone else was consumed with jobs and school and life, where you and Jason flourished.

Or embracing on a rooftop, in the pouring rain, during the dead of night, while everyone slept.

It was moments where you fell into the corners of life, missed by the bustle of the city and enraptured by each other. It was all you ever needed from Jason, and he was ready to give.

—

Gonna stay humbled to this rock

Silently when I know that I belong

Tell me stay on the right track

You know I got faith and beliefs

In my life and just

I guess I wanted that much

Yesterday I fell out of grace

I made you feel bad again

I wanted all your reasons explained

Guess I wanted too much

Ghost of Love - Marie Fisker

[muniimyg]

hey kimi! hope you are doing good :)

i just wanted to say something to you (in a good sense)

with the things happening with bbydaddy!jk fic (at least in the last 2 weeks i think?) you actually don’t owe us any explanation in sense of if it’s gonna be a happy ending or not. this is your fic and we love whatever creative direction you choose (kinda saw the comments on last chapter) you kinda don’t have to reassure us i think?! Idk i genuinely mean this is a good way.

Like as a writer this is your fic and we are here to support.. i used to write myself and its important to yk get the feedback of the readers but at the end it’s your decision like what direction you take..

once again i genuinely mean this in a good way😭 Im not shading anyone just thought i would let you know.. because as a writer earlier i understand THAT pressure..

hehhe hi love,,

i think in the past i've definitely felt a lot of pressure to create fics that ppl would like... ie: jk fics with lots of smut ,,, i've grown more and more confident with my work, my writing style, my own plot ideas, and their set endings. i'm glad i did! it's been such a relieving experience to be embraced and known for my work

in that same sense, i've come to accept that i'm never going to please everyone. for instance, a lot of readers didn't like/understand paraluman's ending, chaebol jk's ending, and even thought my bigger fics like c2u had a "dumb" plotline.... which, fair 🤣

it's rlly important for me to remember that sometimes when u make fics (art in general) the point isn't to be understood by every consumer... sometimes, art is made to simply exist and to make u feel smt. if i've triggered feelings of frustration, joy, and mis/understanding,,, i think i'm doing what i've always wanted to do. to be known to make ppl feel <3 i also don't think that all my work should be loved equally... hot take but i also don't love a lot of my work and think some should be more praised than others. i have my favourites and readers are also allowed to have favourites... to still be in ppls favourites list despite having work that disappointed or felt like a flop to them is okay. sometimes, it's hit or miss,,, that's just life!!! it goes on <3

anyway,, thank u for looking out for me and saying all this. i appreciate ur love and sense of protection over me especially given the past few weeks. u genuinely care for me and it doesn't go unnoticed. thank u for being u ,,

mwah

[gettinshiggywithit]

!Bakugou with an s/o who has a cat-ton of cats!

Scenario:- bakugou as a cat-dad basically 🥳

Type:- headcannons

Pairing:- bakugou x gn!reader!

Thank you to @cloudy-zephyr for inspiring me!This is for you bestie!

When you first started dating i think both he and the cats kinda hated eachother

Like they were like “WHOMST IS THIS BIATCH WHO DARESS TO STEAL OUR MOMMA/PAPPA AWAYYY😡”

But once you move in together the two parties realize they MUST get along

If not for their sake then for yours

So begins the bonding process

The cats slooowly start to be nicer with bakugou and he takes care not to get pissed

Sure they shed like nothing but you loved them so he knew he had to too

Eventually once they actually started getting along without having to consciously remind themselves that they HAD to get along,then things were smoooth sailing!

I can totally imagine bakugou bein like one of those dads who are like “I DONT WANT A CAT!” And then builds a whole ass pent-house with an AC unit and everything 😭

Like he fully spoils ur furbaby

He brings home all the pet related merch from his merch-testings

He gets more and more pet related sponsorships

He even becomes the face of a small cat food brand!(it wasnt small after HE became the face of it!😎)

So needless to say your furballs gets spoiled just like any human child and honestly you think they’re getting MORE spoiled than human children 😭

Oh i also imagine like him havin this whole ass photoshoot with your cats dressed as his sidekicks!!!

Like even the bakusquad are like huhhh??

Cos truthfully no one saw big explodo-murder hero bakugou bein a soft and wholesome cat dad(except you ofc,you knew he had it in him😏)

And you can bet that there are pics of all of you scattered across your home

And he even has a framed picture of all of you from his last birthday on his desk in his agency!!

Oh also i can imagine that when they playfight with him he lets em get a little rough

His excuse? “They Need To Toughen Up and Its My Sworn Duty As Their Father To Make Sure They’re Ready For This World!😤”

OH ALSO IF ANYONE EVER EVEN TRIES TO SAY YOU HAVE TOO MANY CATS OR CATS ARENT LIKE REAL KIDS

HED GET SO FIRED UP!

HED DEFFEND YOU AND YOUR BBYS LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT!

He realy does love your little furballs and whenever he needs comfort and you’re not there they always manage to keep him calm

Its almost like a symbiotic relationship

They’ve learned to depend on eachother!

Which honestly warms ur heart and further reminds you that ‘yup you did in fact choose the right guy

And whenever you come back home to see em all just cuddling on the couch it warms your heart because the two most important parts of your life are getting along so well

Further proving that you’re indeed with you ur meant to be

!A LITTLE BONUS!

when you guys fight your cats protect you but inevitably play a vital role in you bein on speaking terms again.theyll slowly guide you to eachother under the guise of wanting to show you something and then when you look up bakugou will be right in front of you.they always manage to do this when you’ve properly cooled off too

I love this for yall mannn srslyyyy😩

Tagging:- @izueli

please dont repost my work here as your own on any platform all rights belong to me except that of the mha characters used,their right belong to their respective owners.but this story? mine.

feedback,likes,reblogs and comments are so very appreciated tbh :’)i hope you enjoyed and ill catch ya next time!

Comments & Reblogs w/ tags >>>>>>>>>>>likes please

[kmixer]

Kim's rules

General rules!

°•☆ my rule book will most likely be long, bc i just want to have strong boundaries that won't be suppressed

°•☆ if ur under 15 I really would not recommend reading my fanfics when they're tagged like #smut because these are just not for ur age yet!

°•☆ personal please: do not interact when ur homophobic, racist, antishifter, and a Karen. There is something called scrolling or blocking, so please don't waste ur energy hating because I would just laugh my ass of at ur useless comments *>*

°•☆ I'll always try to post but I have school and I'll have to deal with that to, so please be patient with Me and posting! <3

Request!

°•☆ request are always open unless my bio says they're not, and please don't ask me when they're closed bc it can maybe contain a sensitive subject of who knows what and also a bit of respect please.

°•☆ if you want a fanfic writen then I need character name and a scenario, pics or a song so I can base it on that!

°•☆ Reminder I only make fanfics abt Mha, demon slayer, Haikyuu, Spiderman across the spider verse, Jujutsu Kaisen Attack On titan, One Piece Life Action and the blue eye samurai at the moment but maybe in the future I'll add some more!

Will write!

°•☆ Female reader

°•☆ neutral gender reader

°•☆ POC reader

°•☆ NSFW (only with aged up or timeskipped characters)

Won't write!

°•☆ Gore, Yandere, or other possessive things, I feel very uncomfortable writing and reading them, so sorry, no

°•☆ any NSFW minors, I will not write NSFW with 16 /17 or younger year old in it only if they're aged up

Please Do's!

°•☆ giving me feedback on my writings! I am not really known to writing fanfics but I really want begin doing it so I would love some nice feedback, but please stay nice though!

°•☆ being patient with me! I have a lot of write blocks which mean I won't write for some time but I'll always try to write!

°•☆ giving me tips on my word spelling English isn't my first language so I would really appreciate it when u would help with it!

Please don'ts

°•☆ please don't spam me with questions of when I will post again or when I will do your request, I will most likely ignore you when you do that so no use spamming

°•☆ stealing my own ideas. I don't have much creativity, and I would find it absolutely rude when you steal my ideas without giving credits. I would report and block you. Also, if u see someone who did this, please tell me I would highly appreciate it!

°•☆ telling me I stole someone's idea when I obviously tagged them, I would also always ask if its okay if I use they're idea so please don't do this because this is just rude.

°•☆ request things I obviously won't do and continue to ask to do them. It just wastes your and my time and I would also most likely ignore you

°•☆ hate on my choices like shifting, my sexuality etc. Karen it's not bc ur boyfriend left u that I need to deal with the aftermath of ur breakdown and now tantrum just shut up scroll or block me if u don't like my content/ life choices

°•☆ threatening me with things when I don't do ur request. Threatening won't make anything better because making me uncomfortable will most likely end up with you blocked or reported so yea

I will most likely add some things in the future but this is it for now! Sorry @anikaluv for not asking you to use ur layout, I will in the future!

ALL THE CREDIT GOES TO THIS LOVELY PERSON @anikaluv I USED HER LAYOUT SO PLEASE CHECK OUT THEYRE ACCOUNT CAUSE THEYRE AMAZING!!

A fanfic will come in tomorrow bc now my mind is blank

Cya guys then

Tagglist: @anikaluv @joliety

[spikekat]

hi guys i finished all my classes, here’s the story i turned in for my creative writing final. some soft baby gays do punk stuff and talk about their feelings. there’s some blood bc of the punk stuff, it’s like... 3.5k words long

.

Reciprocity

Mason calls himself ten different kinds of stupid as he scales the sycamore tree, weaving his narrow frame through the narrower branches. In his head, he can see Isaac’s mouth, never smiling in class, twisting into a sneer, his eyes cold. Laughter echoes, the mocking sound that rings off school hallways. Mason tries to tell himself that even if it is a trap, a trick, the worst Isaac can do is humiliate him, and if it’s not a trap--

He shivers in his thin t-shirt and tells himself it’s the wind. He just, he doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Isaac’s window-- or, supposedly Isaac’s window-- looms through the sparse multicolored leaves, almost glowing in the dying light, like a portal to another world. Mason edges along a branch, sinking his nails into the soft bark to keep his balance. It digs right back, splinters digging into the skin under his fingernails. He gets to the end, precariously balanced, and leans over the two foot gap but before he can knock, Isaac throws the window open. Mason flinches away from the sudden artificial light and nearly loses his balance.

“It’s six-thirty,” Isaac says.

“Traffic,” Mason says, because it’s easier than saying he’d needed almost a half hour in the woods to talk himself into actually showing up, and then another ten to figure out how to approach the house without being seen. Even with the dying sunlight of autumn on his side, any one of of Isaac’s neighbors would just have to peer around their lace curtains and the whole night would be over before it began, Isaac probably under house arrest or shipped away or just hating Mason for getting him into trouble. “Sorry.” It’s probably obvious, how bad he is at this, how he can’t talk like a real person.

“It’s whatever,” Isaac says, glancing over Mason’s shoulder to the darkness beyond. Somewhere, not too distant, a door opens and Mason’s heart rate ratchets skyward.

“Is that--”

“Get in,” Isaac hisses, moving to the side, keeping the window open. Mason eyes the thinness of the branch, the distance from himself to the windowsill. “Come on,” Isaac stretches the last syllable, and Mason tells himself it’s nerves making him sound so annoyed.

Mason throws calculation as well as caution to the wind; he jumps. He lands half-in and half-out of the window, flopping and wobbling like a fish on a line. His ribs scrape the windowsill painfully; he hopes his shirt, twenty bucks at David Allan Coe’s free park show years back, survives unscratched.  

“Quickly-- ” Isaac darts a look back at his bedroom door.

“I’m trying,” Mason hisses back. His accent sounds abrasive against Isaac’s smooth Nebraskan syllables. There’s a leaf stuck in his hair and it’s tickling his neck. Mason tries to shake it off and pull himself up all at once, but his arms give way at the last second. He barely manages to catch himself; his shoulders scream in effort.

“So this is why you didn’t try out for the wrestling team,” Isaac says, like Mason can’t see his arms trembling from the effort of holding the window open.

“Shut up and get out of the way,” Mason says. He sounds-- teasing-- to his own ears and is immediately regretful; he knows better than to open his mouth, to think he can just get away with shit like that. He kicks, wiry arms straining to pull himself in. The windowsill scrapes Mason’s stomach as he finally works up enough momentum to slide through the window and onto the floor. He lands on the off-white carpet with an thud.

They both freeze; distantly, Mason can hear footsteps, but they’re slow, languid, and they soon fade. He breathes out hard with relief. Isaac cuts him a look, his mouth is pressed tight, like he’s trying not to smile. Mason bites down on his own grin, fighting to be reserved, makes himself sit up slow. He pushes his fair hair out of his eyes; the leaf falls into his lap. The bright red makes his scuffed jeans look even more faded. He twirls the stem between his fingers to give them something to do. The dry Texas air blows the scent of loblolly pine into the room.

“Nice place,” he says. It’s not untrue; it’s clean and spacious. Real spacious: a desk against the wall, a chair for the desk, and a bed next to the window, all of it straight-from-catalogue. No posters on the walls, no photographs, no ambiguous stains. The only personal items are a few shirts, all black, piled at the foot of the bed. Isaac’s sheets are sky blue, as if for a younger boy than Isaac’s sixteen, and gently wrinkled, indented where Isaac must have been sitting. They look soft. Mason makes himself look away. Black dirt from his trek through the backwoods sticks to the duct tape holding his sneakers together, marring the carpet.

“Thanks,” says Isaac, looking around like he’s seeing the sparsity for the first time. He’s no longer not-smiling, shoulders hunched under his black jacket. His BLACK FLAG backpatch is fraying.

Mason hurries to change the subject. “We doing this?”

“If you’re still down,” says Isaac. He plays with the cuff of his jacket, worrying a stray thread. Still not looking at Mason, like he’s not even worth looking at.

“Of course.” Mason tries not to feel stung; Isaac rarely looks at anyone, always off in his own head. Mason wonders daily what it’s like in there; he wonders if it’s a better place to be than his own. He picks himself off the floor, setting the leaf down. It looks better, brighter, when he’s not holding it. “You got what you need?”

“I should.” Isaac starts for the dresser, rummaging through the top drawer. Mason stands on his toes behind him to watch, because Isaac hasn’t told him not to.

“Nice boxers,” he says without thinking, and considers throwing himself back out the window. His super power might be the ability to ruin everything in under three words. Isaac’s body goes tense. He moves the blue plaid over to reveal a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He passes the lighter to Mason, roots around for the rest without looking at him.

Mason runs a coarse thumb over the head of the lighter, feeling the grooves and the scratches in the metal. It feels like a lighter found on the side of the road rather than stolen or begged from the local 7-11; luck, rather than desperation. Something unnamable flutters in Mason’s stomach.

“You have the jewelry?” Isaac asks, turning. His dark hair has fallen into his face, reminding Mason of blackbird feathers.

Mason nods, fishes in his pocket. He’s chosen a circular barbell, half for the lucky horseshoe shape, and half so he could flip it up to hide from his father. Gold and shiny, bought long before he’d worked up the courage to talk to Isaac in Geometry.

“Cool,” says Isaac. An awkward pause. “It’ll be easier if you sit.”

Mason sits on the bed; the sheets are as soft as he’d imagined. Isaac sets an old tshirt and a loose handful of safety pins down next to him. In Mason’s fantasies, he’d just pulled a safety pin from his jacket to use, and put it back when he was done.

“You nervous?” Isaac asks, taking the lighter from Mason’s fingers, trading it for the shirt. His skin is rough; worker’s hands, Mason’s father would say.

Mason’s heart rate picks up, like it’s finally realized what he intends to do. The lighter sparks twice before flame bursts forth.

“Nope.” Mason digs his fingers into the worn fabric of the shirt, watches Isaac run one of the safety pins through the tiny flame. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“More than you have,” Isaac snaps, releasing the flame. Too late, Mason notices his shaking hands. “Give me the ring.” The metal of the safety pin is black and shiny.

Mason fumbles the gold ring into Isaac’s hand, hopes it isn’t damp with his sweat, or if it is, that Isaac won’t comment on it. His nose tingles in anticipation.  

“Tilt your head back,” says Isaac. Mason stares at the ceiling, trying to breathe evenly. Isaac puts a hand under his jaw to keep him steady; his hands are just as warm as Mason’s, and the skin of Mason’s neck prickles. Mason can hear his own blood pulsing through his ears. Isaac’s face is inches away from his own.

Mason flinches when Isaac raises his other hand, the one holding the safety pin.

“Don’t move,” Isaac tells him, voice frayed with impatience.

“Sorry,” says Mason, unable to keep the edge of you’re about to stab me with a needle out of his voice. Heat floods his cheeks.

Isaac’s hand tightens on Mason’s jaw. “Deep breath,” he says. Mason closes his eyes and inhales.

The needle going through hurts more than Mason thought it would, but he keeps himself frozen. Something hot trickles down his upper lip and drips onto his shirt. Belatadly, he brings the shirt in his lap up to catch the rest. His eyes sting.

“Don’t freak out,” Isaac says, unsteady. Mason closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his blood getting all over Isaac’s fingers as Isaac pushes the ring through the hole made by the pin. It hurts worse than the actual piercing. Mason squeezes the frayed tshirt until he’s sure it’s going to tear, and then Isaac breathes out hard and steps back.

“It’s in,” he says. Mason opens his eyes. The world seems a little brighter than it had before.

“Ouch,” Mason says. His nose stings, like after a punch, before the ache sets in. The weight of the ring is a strange sensation, something alien inside his skin. “Sorry for the blood, everywhere.” He dabs at his upper lip and hopes he’s making it better, not worse.

“Sometimes that happens,” says Isaac, but he sounds just as wobbly as Mason feels. “Here, let me--” he leans in again to take the shirt back. His eyes are polished obsidian. Mason stops breathing when Isaac takes a corner of the fabric and wipes at Mason’s face. The closer the shirt gets to his stinging nose the tenser he feels, but Isaac doesn’t even brush against it.

“Very professional,” Mason says around a grin, after Isaac has finished his work. “How do I look?”

“Not at all professional,” says Isaac.

“Fuck yes.” Now that the worst is over, Mason can’t keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Glad you like it,” says Isaac. Endorphins must be contagious; he’s not-smiling again.

“Do you have a mirror around here? Let me see,” Mason demands, standing now, too excited to be still, to be quiet. Isaac digs around in his dresser and comes up with a hand mirror.

The change is small but startling. The gold through his septum brings out his freckles and the lightness of his eyes, draws attention to the symmetry of his cheekbones. There’s still blood stains at the corners of his mouth; he looks like someone he would admire, if he met them on the street. He looks like someone who knows who and what they are, enough that they let a stranger put a needle through their skin.

He absolutely cannot let anyone else see him like this.

“Done admiring yourself?” Isaac asks, light, but Mason looks down, stomach souring. He wanted this; he still wants this.

“Yeah,” he says, voice flat. Unbidden, he pictures his father’s face. Eyes always fixed on something a little above or a little to the right of Mason’s face.

“Is it crooked?” The light has gone out of Isaac’s face; Mason fucking up once again. He wonders if there will ever come a day when he doesn’t turn everything he touches into garbage. Mason glances up; Isaac’s close again, brow furrowed in what could be concern, or could be annoyance.

“It’s not that--” Mason starts, face prickling uncomfortably. Fucking bullshit mixed complexion; no one in his mother’s family blushes every five seconds. “I mean--”

Someone knocks on the door. They both freeze.

“Isaac? Can I come in?”

Isaac, his eyes wide and urgent, stares directly at Mason. Mason’s stomach curls in on itself; he forgets to breathe.

“Uh-- Just a minute!” Isaac’s voice sounds high and unnatural. He grabs Mason by the shoulder and pushes him down, gesturing to the space under the bed.

Mason gets the message and drops to his elbows. He wriggles forward, pushing himself forward with his shoes. His poor shirt.

“Isaac?” The door creaks; not opening, but preparing to open, intent bringing the wood to life.

Isaac gives Mason’s legs a shove, pushing his face into the accumulated dust of years. Mason curls into a ball as best as he can, shoulder shoved up against the box spring painfully. He just barely fits.

“Isaac--” The doors opens. Isaac flings himself onto the bed.

“Sorry, Katya, I was just changing,” Isaac says, all in a rush. Mason opens his mouth, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. He hears soft footsteps; Katya is wearing shoes inside, nice ones, polished and black.

“Sorry to bother you,” Katya says, voice soft. “Were you watching something? I thought I heard voices.” She sounds exactly like Mason imagines a mother should sound. He wonders if that irritates or comforts Isaac.

“Just reading to myself,” Isaac says, a lie so smooth Mason is impressed. “English homework. Sometimes it’s easier to take in if I can hear it, too. Actually, I’m pretty busy with my assignments, so--” Katya is lingering in the doorway; Mason hopes she stays there, doesn’t know how much longer he can keep from sneezing. His nose hurts.

“You know, if ever want help with anything, we’d be more than willing. John used to teach, I can talk to him about it if you want.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Don’t be silly,” she says, and her voice wobbles. Mason has seen her before, from a distance, dropping Isaac and the others off at school one day. He hadn’t thought she looked like a drunk--

“Katya?” Isaac says. He sounds strange through the boxspring. Mason tries to adjust his face, to put less pressure on his cheek, and accidentally gets a mouthful of dust. His eyes water.

Katya shifts her weight, black shoes moving just slightly. Mason tries to focus on them and ignore the tickle in his throat. He cannot cough. He cannot breathe too loud, or sneeze, or scratch the ear that itches like hell.

“Katya, I’m really busy--”

“It’s just, your brother--”

They break off at the same time. Time stops. The room goes still. Mason forgets about his throat; the tension weighs on him all the heavier for lacking the context.

“What about my brother?” The words sound brittle, just a splinter away from shattering to pieces.

Katya’s shiny loafers shift again. “He’s being released soon. Your caseworker just told us today-- they think he might, well, come looking for you.”

“Oh.” Isaac sounds-- hurt. Raw. Ripped open, everything he probably doesn’t want Mason to know audible in that single syllable.

Mason closes his eyes. He imagines being anywhere else.

Isaac audibly clears his throat. “Okay,” he says. “Uh, my homework--”

“--of course,” says Katya, desperate to get away now. Mason wonders how he could’ve mistaken her distress for drunkenness. “If you need anything, if you want to talk, or if you just don’t want to be alone-- you know where to find us.” The black shoes turn. “We’re glad to have you here, Isaac.”

Isaac doesn’t say anything, but Katya doesn’t seem to expect him to. She shuts the door when she leaves; it clicks, too loud in the suddenly silent room.

Mason pretends to himself for a solid ten seconds that Isaac has forgotten all about him, that he’ll die under this bed, but then the faint pressure is lifted off his back and Isaac says,

“You can come out now.”

Mason shuffles his way out from under the bed. The room is brighter than he remembers, giving him an excuse to avoid Isaac’s eyes. Katya left behind the faint scent of lavender fabric softener. Mason hates her a little bit.

Isaac is standing next to his unmarred and unused desk, looking just as empty. He’s staring at nothing in particular, shoulders round and slumped. Even the safety pins look dull. Mason glances toward the window and the woods beyond, and then carefully sits on the bed.

“Your brother?” he says, forcing his voice to sound almost casual.

“Is in prison,” says Isaac. Monotone. “He raised me.”

“My dad was in prison for a little while,” Mason says. “When I was a lot younger. My mom left him, after.” He hates the way he sounds when he says it, the vowels all slurred, the ‘g’ in ‘younger’ so soft it barely exists, the ‘t’ in ‘after’ more a ‘d’.

“What’d he do?”

“Shot someone.”

Isaac nods, still looking at nothing. “My brother’s in jail because of me,” he says.

“What did you do?”

“I wasn’t quiet enough,” he says. His face finally changes, mouth going so tight Mason wonders if his whole face will shatter. “We were hiding, after the place we were staying got busted. Drugs and shit. I was scared, I made a sound, the cops found us. My brother had some stuff on him-- he wasn’t like, using, it was just a way to make some cash-- plus he wasn’t supposed to have me, which made it worse. They didn’t even let me talk to him before sentencing.”

Mason nods, even though Isaac isn’t looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he says. He wants to ask Isaac what his brother’s name is but the words get stuck somewhere in his throat.

“I didn’t think you were going to show up, earlier,” says Isaac, suddenly. Still staring at nothing at all. “I thought-- I don’t know.” Mason thinks he does know.

“I was afraid,” he says. “I thought-- it might be like, a set-up to make fun of me or something.”

Isaac looks at him, frowning. His eyes are bright. “Why would-- nevermind.”

Mason can almost hear him putting it together, the way he vanishes during lunch hour, the distance between him and everyone else like a physical object. How they can all tell there’s something wrong with him, something fucked up and different.

“But you showed up anyway?”

“I wanted this,” he says, shrugging. The words shred his throat, but he forces them out. “You always seem so fucking cool, like you’re above all the school bullshit. Not stuck up or anything, but like you’ve got more important shit in your mind.”

“Oh,” says Isaac, again. Like he’s realized something. Mason swallows hard, but doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch back.

Isaac turns, leans against the desk. He’s looking at Mason differently. There’s intent, now. His face is more open.

“What was it like when your dad got out?” he asks.

“I remember a lot of yelling,” Mason says. He fiddles with the hole in his jeans, trying to recall the exact scene. The question feels like a test. “I don’t think my mom knew he was coming back. He was sober, for once, and kind of quiet. She screamed a bunch of stuff at him when he came to the door, but let him in eventually. He sat down at the kitchen table and asked me about school. He’s never asked me about it since then, or before, or when mom brought me to visit him. He doesn’t even look at me, mostly. I think he was just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac says. Mason feels his cheeks go red, pleased and embarrassed and ashamed, all at once.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Mason says. “Hell, I’m sorry.”

“Your own father doesn’t look at you?” Isaac says. “That’s fucked up.” He says it matter of fact, not flinching away, no judgment toward Mason, just stating a fact.

Mason swallows around the lump in his throat; he wonders if this is what bravery feels like. “Do you want your brother to see you?”

Isaac shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “We weren’t-- we didn’t have the best parents, when we had parents, but my brother made sure I went to school. He made me do my homework next to him every night, said it was more important than dinner, even.”

“He sounds like a good guy,” Mason says, around something like a rock that has grown in his throat. “How old were you when he--?”

“Ten; I knew better. He taught me better.”

“I don’t think he’ll be mad at you,” Mason says.

Isaac’s face closes, and for a second, Mason thinks he’s ruined everything. Isaac curls forward, rubbing at his eyes like he’s hiding tears, but when he drops his hands his face is dry.  

“I don’t know,” he says. “I can see it both ways. I just don’t know.” He shrugs, but it’s a fragile thing.

Mason joins Isaac in leaning against the desk. They stare out the open window to the silhouette of the woods outside, shoulders barely brushing. Mason can see his face reflected in the glass, his new piercing visible. The newness, the real him peeking out from the corner, only he can see it; everyone else just sees metal. Maybe that doesn’t matter.

“Thanks,” Mason says. “For stabbing me in the face, I mean. The other stuff too, but I really appreciate the hole in my face.”

Isaac laughs, a breathy, quiet sound. “Anytime,” he says. “Sorry about, uh, everything else.”

Mason laughs too. Carefully, he lets himself lean against Isaac. The cicadas call out to the moon.

Later, when Mason is biking through the darkened streets, his new piercing flipped up to hide it from view, he can still feel the warmth of Isaac’s shoulder against his own. It keeps him company all the way across town, to the trailer park where his father sleeps, drunk and unaware.

[erule]

yay!! im glad ur requests are open!! I love angst to fluff so what about stephen and the reader soulmate au!! But its like the red string of fate and the reader can see her’s is clearly connected to Stephen but his is all tangled and so he doesn’t realize it yet please and thank you!!

Red string of fate | s.s.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem!witch!reader

Summary: you’ve been in love with Stephen for as long as you can remember, but now that you know that he’s also your soulmate, you have to do anything that is in your power to stop his wedding.

Warnings: soulmate au, angst, fluff, Christine is the antagonist (but I love her!!), there’s a fight scene between superheroes (not really violent), mention of blood, mention of hospital, back hurt/back pain, friends to enemies to lovers kinda

Word count: 3.5K

A/N: hi! I used she/her pronouns because they were in the requests, but since there was not determined the state of the reader, I chose her to be a witch like Wanda eheh, hope you don’t mind. Also, I tried to follow the request, but I changed the narrative about the string a little bit in the story, you’ll see. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Hope y’all like it. Enjoy! x

Tags: thanks to @ssathoma for the request, hope you like it!

Wanda has never been more afraid of anything in her life. Monsters? She can beat them. Aliens? Not a threat. Thanos? Defeated with less power. Children? A joke. But you? The literal villain of her story. 

You’ve been walking around your room shared with Wanda for about fifteen minutes, now. You can’t make up your mind about something you just found out, but Wanda hasn’t realized it yet: you didn’t tell her and your mind was too confused to make her read it. So, tired of this situation, she sits on the bed, legs crossed, while staring at you. 

“Y/N… Y/N! Please, stop. Just talk to me. What’s this so important things that you realized?” 

You suddenly freeze in front of her, making her almost nervous. You sigh, then you show her your red string of fate, a thread that you make appear into the air with a gesture of your hand. Since you’re a witch, you can make people see it, while normally nobody can, unless they have got magic, of course. Usually, you can see the red string of fate in form of a tattoo, a birthmark or else on people’s skin, but that’s not your case: you just hide it with magic. That’s why Wanda didn’t know about your soulmate. On the other hand, you never wanted to know who this person was, so you didn’t really try to follow the string in your head, but now, you know. And this is a nightmare.  

“Do you see it?”

“Yeah, I can see the string, but… not your soulmate. Who is it?”

“That’s because his string is all entangled!” You exclaim and Wanda gulps. “Sorry. Okay, well, last night I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about Stephen… again… and his fabulous hands touching Christine’s hair at dinner, in front of me. Disgusting. Anyway, I finally decided to untangle the string in my head, to see where it’s going, breaking the promise I made to myself when I was little: I would have found my soulmate when faith would have told me. My patience was over, Wanda. Please, tell me that you get it”.

She nods.

“I see. So, who’s the mystery man? Bucky? Loki? Zemo?”

“Worse”.

“Worse than them? Star-Lord?”

You burst into laughing.

“He’s nice. Anyway, he’s the only person I have a crush on. Perhaps, I’m even in love with him. But unfortunately, he’s dating somebody else”.

Wanda brings her hand to her mouth, shocked. Your eyes appear glossy, now. Something in her chest aches for you. 

“Y/N…”

“It’s Stephen, Wanda. Stephen is my soulmate. And he’s engaged”.

Maybe, you shouldn’t have put it into place again. Maybe, you should have let him know that you were his soulmate, but you didn’t want to change his perception of you. However, you did that after you acknowledged your feelings for him. And you couldn’t tell him either, because he’d be angry at you for using magic kind of against him. 

“You did the right thing, Y/N,” Wanda tells you, caressing your back.

“It’s hard to think that, when I’m forced to look at him getting married to somebody else,” you reply, while looking at him and Christine sitting on the couch, choosing the best decorations fot the wedding.

“I know, honey. The right thing isn’t always the easier one. But you’re a good person. Find peace in that”.

“Maybe I’m tired of being nice,” you say, then you swallow your pride, your willing of being again in your room and not there, your heart being so envy of Christine, the heat given by your feelings running through your veins and you come closer to the happy couple with your best fake smile on your lips. “Christine, Stephen told me yesterday that maybe you need some help with the cake, is that correct?”

She gives you a smile.

“Yeah, it’s true!”

“Thanks, Y/N. I have to go on a mission today, so I can’t be here to taste the cakes, but I trust you. See you later, my love,” he says to Christine, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“My love”. Alexa, play “It should be me”. 

“Chocolate or strawberry?” Christine asks you, while you’re sitting next to her on the couch. She’s looking at the cakes on a catalogue.

“Dark chocolate,” you whisper, then you raise your voice. “Stephen loves dark chocolate”.

“Dark chocolate it is! You really seem to know him, Y/N,” she says and you nod.

“Not enough, probably,” you murmur.

“You know, I used to think that you were in love you with him and I got even jealous, because the two of you are always a really capable couple during the fights, but now I realize that you’re just a good friend of his and I’m glad that he’s got you,” she says, squeezing your hand. You smile at her, while your eyes are burning for the tears 

“Thanks, Christine”.

A stab would have done less harm.

It has been a week, since that terrible day. You can’t sleep anymore, because of this secret. Wanda told you that it would been selfish for you to confess everything to him, but what if he’s marrying the wrong person? He should know it, he should have the right to choose his path, since his string is entangled (again) and he can’t see his faith very well. The wedding is in a month. You dan’t have much time. 

So you put on some fresh clothes, then you go to the room in the compound he usually uses to study magic. He’s always working, so you’re sure that you’re gonna find him awake and here, not at home with Christine. The door is closed, so you knock and his raspy voice responds: “Open”.

But he’s not working. When you open the door, he’s wearing an unusual suit: it’s white and gold, even if his cape is always the red one. Your whole body is suffering for this, because you can’t touch him or see his on the altar, in front of you. 

“How do I look?” He asks you, turning around so you can see him better. In the mirror, your image would show him your inner secrets. “This is ridiculous, isn’t it? Wong told me to wear this stupid ancient suit, but probably I could just buy a smoking and…”

“You’re perfect,” you say and your voice, even if it’s low, echoes between the walls. He looks at you with his lips not touching one another for the surprise, like you and him. But even Thanos would know how much you’d love to touch him. 

“Thank you,” he says, smiling with just one corner of his lips. You nod. “Did you need anything?”

You. Just you.

And then, a voice in your head, maybe because of the lack of sleep, tells you to confess him the whole truth.

“I have to tell you something”.

He observe you, scanning your face, then he shakes his head.

“There’s no need”.

“Stephen, please…” you begin to say, coming closer to him.

“No, Y/N, let it go”.

“You should know it!”

“I already know,” he tells you and you stop in the middle of the room. Your eyes grow wide. He can’t know, it’s impossible. There’s no way in the world in which he can have figured or imagined it. “I know it, Y/N and I do not care”.

You swallow hard. 

“What?” You whisper. “How?”

“I saw you in my dreams, that night. You stepped into my space, so I woke up in my head and I saw you untangle the threads. I know that you’re my soulmate, but it’s not important: I fell in love with Christine and we’re gonna get married soon. That string doesn’t mean anything,” he tells you, calmly, while your heart breaks more and more at every word he says.

You’re in pieces and he doesn’t even care about that.

“Stephen, it’s magic. We believe in it more than in everything else. Love itself is a pure form of magic. How can you say something terrible like that?”

You’re fighting with the urge to scream, right now.

“You said that yourself: love is a form of magic and I fell in love with Christine. It’s as simple as that. Unless, you fell in love with me, of course. But you didn’t fall in love with me, did you?” He jokes, while adjusting his sleeve. You remain quiet, so he raises his gaze in order to look straight into your eyes. “You didn’t fall in love with me, did you?” He repeated, his tone surprised yet almost angry. A sob escapes from your lips and you immediately close your mouth with your hands. “Damn, Y/N!”

“I’m sorry, Stephen…”

“You ruined everything!” His rage could be heard by the others, now. “Why are you doing this to me? Because you needed to tell me the truth? You should have kept your stupid secret for yourself!”

“Stupid? Love is not stupid! Even if it’s unrequited!” You scream.

“You’re not my friend, you’re acting like a selfish little girl who fell in love with her classmate. Flash news: we’re not in high school anymore, Y/N!” 

“Watch your tongue, Strange,” you say, while some red sparks begin to dance around your fingers.

“Or what?” He asks you, tilting his head, but instead of seeing him angry, he seems almost… challenging, to you. As if he has been waiting for this moment for years.

You hear some steps behind you. 

“What’s happening, here?” Wanda ask.

“A magic fight? Wow! Please, let me watch!” Peter Parker exclaims.

“Nobody’s gonna fight, Peter. Right, Y/N?”

You breathe out. 

“Right”.

“You’re not invited to the wedding anymore, Y/N,” Stephen says.

“I didn’t plan to come anyway,” you lie, then you get back to bed, while your heart is still aching for him.

***

You can see that Wanda is angry in her eyes, but she has also given you the access to her mind, so you can see the fight she had this morning with Stephen.

“She’s your best friend, it’s insane that you don’t make her come to your wedding!”

“She crossed the line, Wanda. Oh and Y/N, if you’re looking at his: remember not to behave like a child with your next crush”.

“You’re being mean, now”.

“She entered in my dreams and she didn’t even apologize to me! It wasn’t fair, Wanda”.

“Love’s not fair, Strange”.

“Friendship is”.

You get out from her mind, sighing.

“He’s right, Wanda: I broke his trust. I get why he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore”.

“He’s hiding something, Y/N,” she says, while walking around your room. 

“Okay, enough, you’re looking like me now,” you joke. “What’s up?”

Wanda stops, then she looks at you, sat on the bed. You’re curious of what she’s been thinking for days.

“He seems too hurt. I observed him during the last few missions and he seemed very nervous”.

“He’s getting married in two weeks, it seems normal to me”.

“No, it’s not. Strange asked Christine to marry him one year ago and since that day, he stuck with that decision, but when he discovered that you’re his soulmate, he began to waver”.

You get up from the bed, coming closer to her.

“What are you trying to say?”

Wanda licks her lips, before she talks.

“That he’s not entirely in love with Christine”.

It’s late afternoon and you’re watching the sunset in New York, when Stephen comes down from the sky, after the two of you have defeated another monster. There was a lot of tension between you two, but you worked pretty well anyway. What you missed more was the fact that you didn’t banter like an old married couple, during the fight. Usually, that is the best part of the job. You wonder if he thought about that too.

“Everything’s under control, Y/N. We have destroyed enough buildings, today,” he jokes and you chuckle. 

“I had to contain my power, actually,” you reply. 

“Me too,” he says, then you flickers you a glance. “We should do something about this repressed rage, don’t you think? The compound is empty, if you want,” he says and you blush. “I’m talking about a fight. A little fight in the room that Doctor Banner made for us, in which our powers can’t harm anything or anybody, except for ourselves, of course”.

You stare at him, thinking, then you nod in agreement: maybe you can investigate some more on his relationship with Christine. You could even find out if she poisoned him or if she asked for help to another with in order to make him fall in love with her. Or perhaps, this is not a trick and you just can’t handle the truth: he’s really in love with her. And yeah, maybe she doesn’t care about her real soulmate or her thread is all tangled too.

The room has windowson every wall, but you can’t see your reflection on them or if there’s somebody outside. Your possible enemy can’t know where you are, but you can’t know if you really exist too. This happens because you’re forced to focus on the other person’s presence in the room. You find it ironically sad, because even in the real world, Stephen’s presence is all you care about. He’s the only one you can see in every room. 

“Are you scared, Y/N?” He asks you, while you can feel his energy running through his veins. “You’re not even looking at me”.

“I don’t have to look at you to actually see you, Stephen,” you reply with a grin, but there’s a lot of melancholy in your heart and he seems to know it. 

That’s when you catch him by surprise. You first attack causes a cut along his cheek. A trickle of blood runs down his jaw, but he doesn't seem to notice it. You leap towards him, but a bubble of energy shoots you across the room, causing you to flip backwards. At this point you start to think that he is almost angrier than you, because, unlike you, he is not holding back for real anymore.

“You’re not using your powers like you normally do in a fight. There’s no need to protect me!” He exclaims, then he comes closer to you, but you fight his punch with a shield made of red energy. 

“I’m just trying to protect myself! My powers could even destroy this room!” You reply.

“Were you protecting yourself, when you confessed your feelings for me?” He asks and you get distracted. One moment later, he pulls your back against the wall, one of the windows. 

You slide to the floor and there you remain for an endless time. You try to get up, but you can't. He may even have broken your back, for all you know.

"Stephen, I don't..."

"I was calm, you know? When I asked Christine to marry me."

"Stephen..."

"I was calm, because I knew that I would have spent the rest of my life with a good woman, who loved me and I, in some twisted way, loved her. I didn't care who was on the other side of my string and neither did she. We had found our soul mate, that was okay. Then you came along and you had to screw it up with your stupid curiosity. You might as well have found it out and kept it to yourself, I wouldn't have told you anything, but no, you had to make me knwo that too. And now I'm always restless."

"Stephen, something is wrong..."

"Sure! I can't fool Christine right now. She doesn't deserve it. I thought I was chasing a chimera, Y/N. I thought that you didn't feel anything for me, so I lied to everyone, even myself, telling myself that it was better that way, but it wasn't true. I never forgot you, Y/N. I never forgot the idea of ​​the two of us together, a mere dream that would never become real. Then you confessed everything to me and even if I was scared, it made me incredibly happy, because I was free. But I can't leave that woman on the altar, because she trusts me. Tell me this makes sense, please,” he explains, but you’re tired now and every fiber in your body is in pain.

“My back… Stephen, my back…” 

“Y/N? No, don’t close your eyes, no, Y/N… Don’t close your eyes!”

When you open your eyes again, you’re in a hospital room. The walls are white, the air is aseptic and you feel like you’re not breathing anymore. How many days have passed? Is Stephen already married to Christine? This is a nightmare come true. It can’t be.

Somebody enters in the room. You look at your right, only to see Christine. She’s not wearing any ring and you make a sigh a relief. She seems to notice that, but she doesn’t say a word about it.

“How are you?” She asks you, gently.

“Not in pain anymore, which is already something, I guess,” you joke. She gives you a smile. 

“You know, he didn’t leave your side for the entire time. Even now, he’s outside, sat on a bench, his head between his hands, thinking about you,” she says and you swallow. There’s something in her voice that makes you respect her even more. Resignation.

“I didn’t have the right to tell him…”

“No, you didn’t,” she cuts you off. You gulp. “You didn’t have the right to tell him that you were in love with him just one month before our wedding, but you did have the right to tell him about his soulmate. Why? Because he deserved to know that it was you. I wouldn’t have cared about anybody else, but when he told me that it was you, two days ago, when he brought you here, upset, everything was clear in my head: he didn’t want to know the identity of his soulmate, because he was scared that it would have been you. Because pretending to love me was easier than loving you for real,” she explains and finally, you understand the final picture. 

“I really am sorry, Christine,” you murmur anyway, because she still has to know that.

“I know, but I’m glad that this happened, because probably I wasn’t really in love with Stephen and now I can find my real soulmate, that hopefully will love me that much. He feels guilty, Y/N. Now tell him that you’re alright, because your powers and some rest healed your body,” she says, then she goes away.

Stephen enters into the room with his eyes circled in red. He swallows, then he basically runs to you, embracing you into his arms. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent, feeling at home. 

“I’m okay, Stephen. Christine said that my powers helped my body to heal,” you tell him and he nods, while caressing your back, that fortunately doesn’t hurt anymore.

“I’m sorry for all of this pain I caused you. Christine didn’t tell me why, but she doesn’t want to marry me anymore. My life is a complete mess, Y/N. Wanda says that you can put all the pieces together, but I don’t…” 

You cut him off by kissing him. It’s a sweet and brief kiss, but full of passion and love. You hope that he can feel your power running through his veins too, like you can do with him. Together, you could potentially rule the world. This is a complete soulmate thing.

“You’re forgiven, Stephen. And I’m sorry too, for sneaking into your head without you knowing. It wasn’t fair,” you say and he squeezes your hand.

“Soulmates always find each other. Maybe that’s why you did that”.

“You were my soulmate even before I knew it,” you reply with tears in your eyes and he gives you a small kiss on your forehead.

“And you were mine”.

[jvngkook97]

Tattooed Heart

pairing; non-idol!taehyung, tattoo artist!taehyung, ex!taehyung x non-idol!reader, college student!reader, ex!reader ft. Jungkook

genre; angst, fluff, smut, exes to lovers, ex au, tattoo artist au, soulmate au

warnings; tons of angst, cursing, implied non explicit smut, jealousy, reader is not going to take any of taehyung’s shit, both are petty assholes tbh, Jungkook’s thighs make an appearance you’ve been warned

rating; 18+ minors dni

w/c; 10,702 if you read this, bless ur soul

a/n; didn’t know I needed a tattoo artist au of taehyung until the plot came to me. y’all may need a cold shower after this one. like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback is always appreciated. love u all ok bye

soulmate au masterlist ~ coming soon!

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be stepping foot in this shithole of a place that you once called home. Yet here you were, courtesy of your best friend of 10+ years getting married at an age too young for your liking, but having found her soulmate, why should she waste any time? You wondered if you would’ve done the same had the roles been reversed. Nah, probably not.

Letting out a rather unladylike snort in the high end bar where the bachelorette party was taking place, people who you just met for the first time that day staring at you with odd looks, you downed your fourth or fifth shot of Jack Daniel’s of the night. Enjoying the way the subtle burn trailed down your throat, you reminisced on a time that you thought was long forgotten. One where you first met who you truly believed was going to be the love of your life, forever.

His name? Kim Taehyung.

Then

You guys first me when you were 15, and he was 16. You were young, you were dumb, and you were broke. Both of you coming from poverty, you vowed to not let your hometown swallow you up like it’s done majority of its residents. Agreeing to help each other whenever possible in order to achieve that goal. But there was one solid rule, you never leave a man behind.

Maybe you should’ve revised it differently. Changed it to never leave your best friend behind. Though you know that probably wouldn’t of made any difference either. Considering that’s exactly what happened when his self made tattoo business started gaining momentum almost 2 years later after making the pact. Some big shot conglomerate willing to take his talents to newfound heights he could never accomplish in your dreary town.

When he first told you of the news that he was getting invested in by the one and only Bang PD, you were ecstatic, overjoyed even for him. Cause it was that day you saw him truly believe in himself for once, something you’ve always tried yourself to get him to see but could never quite get it through that thick skull of his. And if it took a world renowned tattoo artist that he’s looked up to for years to do it, then so be it. It was during his ramblings that he let one little detail slip past his supple, and equally as kissable, lips. Not that you’ve ever kissed before in real life, but the dream version of him was very talented, in many ways.

So imagine to his surprise, it was you that brought up the life altering fact. The words coming from your mouth, sounding foreign. Like you shouldn’t of been saying them to begin with. It wasn’t until his reaction to your words surfaced, did you finally believe it was real. He was leaving you. Leaving you behind.

That’s when you made the one last ditch effort to selfishly try and keep him within your grasp, within your town, with you. You named the many reasons you love him. You confessed your desires, your hopes, your dreams. All of them included the two of you together. The two of you intimately together, where he was equally in love with you the same way you were with him and you both could live your teenage dream version of reality you dreamt up in your head since you first met him. All of it was futile for the freshly turned 18 year old. The now legal adult in him having matured him overnight, it seems. It was now your turn to be surprised.

The words dripped from his lips as if they were the blood from the metaphorical knife he was digging into your heart.

“But I’m not in love with you, y/n!”

And sometime in the late night, long after you were home alone in your 17 year old bed crying your eyes out from the now broken heart you had to nurture back to being whole by yourself, he left.

A few months later, you would then meet your current best friend, Reina. And the rest, as they say, was history.

———————————————————————

Now

Finishing your now sixth or seventh drink of the night, you knew you needed to start drinking water. Waving the bartender down, who was thoroughly relieved that they didn’t have to cut you off themselves, they set a glass of ice cold water down in front of you with a trained smile.

It was while you were drinking the cold beverage, that you realized someone was trying to initiate a conversation with you from the occupied barstool next to you. Finally giving them the luxury of your precious time, you turned your head to look at them, or moreso to see if you deemed them worthy of being your sexual release for the night.

The first thing you noticed about them was the piercings that adorned their face so perfectly. The next thing was their soft, warm, brown eyes. Which led down to their lips where a lip piercing was placed rather methodically in your opinion, cause now you wanted nothing more then to know how the said piercing would feel between your thighs. A thought that made you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth in anticipation. But what really sealed the deal, was his bad boy attire he donned. From his leather jacket, to his black denim jeans, even to his laced up, black platform boots that encased his feet. You were hooked.

Lost in your lust induced haze, the male you just checked out was attempting to get you to talk, again. Oh shit, he was going to think you were some loon now with the way you were just staring at him without replying back.

Clearing your throat, you broke yourself out of your sinful thoughts and acknowledged the beautiful male specimen in front of you with a sultry smile and half lidded eyes.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, sir?” The dark look that fell over his face at your quite normal addressing of the male didn’t go unnoticed by you. Ah, you smirked inwardly, he has a ‘sir’ kink. Good to know for later on, so you kept that little fact locked in your memories.

A tattoo covered hand was holding his drink of choice in a soft grip, before it was brought up to his lips as you watched closely how they molded with the glass in a way that shouldn’t be arousing you so much, but it was. His tongue coming to poke out and taste the liquid courage as it slithered down his throat, where his Adam’s apple was bobbing due to the swallowing actions. Your breathing hitched not of your own accord, a sound that made the male smirk at you knowingly.

Not so subtly rubbing your thighs together, the male brought a large ring clad hand to settle on top of the thigh that was closest to him. Rubbing soothing circles, he then kneaded the top of your thigh gently, but firmly. His action causing the hem of your dress to ride up, and with it being short to begin with, was barely leaving anything to the male’s imagination. Not that he minded, or you for that matter.

Tilting his head towards the direction of the bathrooms, he silently asked you a question with a uncharacteristic bunny toothed smile adorning his lips. Watching his lip piercing strain to stay in from the sudden wide display, you licked your own lips and grabbed the hand that was still on your thigh. Angling your body further towards the male, you used the obscure angle and dim lighting throughout the bar to your advantage. Sliding the male’s hand underneath your dress, you placed his hand near your clothed core.

He let out a low, gutteral groan at your lewd action, feeling the warmth that emanated from between your thighs. Copying your movements, he angled his body even closer to yours, effectively cutting off the bottom half of your body with one of his thick thighs that he considered a blessing at this moment. Yet he kept his hand where it was, not moving an inch without your consent. With locked eyes, you brought his hand up that last inch. It was all the answer he needed, and then he was hooked.

———————————————————————

The lone male walked out of the bar exuding an aura of content, passing a hand through his now disheveled hair, and started walking down the street light covered sidewalk towards his roommates area of business. Like clockwork, you walked out not even five minutes later, exuding the same contentment as your prior male counterpart for the evening, applying a new layer of lipstick that came off during your activities, and began walking on the same sidewalk in the opposite direction towards the hotel you were staying at until the wedding was over.

Considering his roommates business was only a few blocks away from his usual hunting grounds, he made it into the little establishment within minutes. His roommate having just finished up the last client of the night, sending them off with a polite smile and a ‘please come again’.

His roommate looked at the male that just came into his work with a roll of his eyes followed by a look of disgust. His entire body laid limp on the black couch at the front of his studio, normally housing his clients, with an ‘I just got laid’ kind of posture. Locking the studio door, he turned the lights off on the ‘Open’ neon sign that hung in the window, signaling to passerbys that it was closed.

“Seriously, dude. Again? That’s three nights in a row! Are you seeing the same woman? At the same prissy bar?” The roommate questioned in feigned amusement. Hitting the male’s feet off his couch to make room for himself, the roommate plopped down on the couch next to him, waiting to hear of the male’s recent sexcapade.

The male just grinned at his roommate in excitement. Wanting him to ask the question first, before he laid out all the juicy details. Throwing his head back against the couch with his eyes closed, the roommate claimed defeat and asked the dreaded question.

“Who was it this time, Jungkook? The lady from the bookstore? The one from the supermarket? Or, maybe the single mom from the cafe down the street?” The list honestly could’ve gone on longer, but those seemed to be on the top of his list majority of his time, so he started there.

Jungkook, the lone male from the bar, looked at his roommate with a shit eating grin.

“None of them. She was new in town.” He casually said in a way that made his roommate sit up straight and stare him in the eyes in genuine shock.

“A newbie? No wonder they gave in so easily.” He replied with a humorless chuckle before asking another question.

“Did you at least get a name this time around?”

“Nope. No name. But–,” Jungkook drug out the word before revealing his big find of the night.

“I did find her tattoo.” He stated with a cocky grin, one his roommate unfortunately saw all too much on his friend’s face.

“For real. You found her tattoo? What was it of?” He asked in genuine curiosity.

“A heart.” He started to describe the tattoo to the awaiting male across from him. The roommate sagging in disappointment at the bland tattoo description, before Jungkook finished his description. And this time, his roommates eyes widened in horror.

“It was an anatomical heart. With chains wrapped around it.” Jungkook closed his eyes to remember it in vivid detail, going on to say even how he found it, not noticing the look that was stuck on his roommates face, now turned to one of pure anger.

He was going to kill Jungkook.

———————————————————————

Drying your hair off after the shower you just took to cleanse your body of your quick hook up of the night, you threw the cheap, yet equally impressive tight blonde wig that you were wearing for the night, forced on you by the bridal party due to losing a game, into the trash bin. You had no clue how it stayed on the whole night, but it did, flawlessly. You then decided to text your best friend, Reina, that you were in the questionable safety of your cheap hotel room and in fact didn’t get murdered, yet.

She immediately called you and asked for the details, having witnessed you head off with the no named gentleman. Reina didn’t even know who it was, not really getting a good look herself in the lighting of the bar. Even though she was about to get married to the love of her life, her soulmate, she liked to still live the single life through you and your sexual endeavors.

And who were you to deprive your best friend? So, you droned on and on about how amazing the sex was, even in the small confines of the bathroom stall that housed your sinful actions for the night. Telling her that your first experience with a lip piercing was every bit just as wonderful as you imagined it would be. Even his skilled, ring clad, tattooed hands were able to drive you over the edge countless times before he even let you touch him. And not to even get you started on that man’s mouth that you swear made you see galaxies in your eyes. Unfortunately, that’s as far as it went, considering neither of you carried a condom on your person to go further, which you would have otherwise.

But if there’s one good thing your mother ever taught you in your shitty upbringing?

Never have sex without a condom.

Feeling yourself get flustered all over again, it’s like you could still feel the ghost of his hands and mouth on your body, your hand mindlessly trailed its way to the tattoo that adorned your hip, tracing it with your fingertips. An action that was intimately performed by your hook up of the night a few hours prior. Reina gave out her own sigh of content through the phone as if the obscene acts were performed on her own body and she was blissfully as content as you were in that moment. During her single days, believe it or not, she was worse with one night stands than you were. Which is why you’re so surprised she’s getting married in a few days. You’ll admit though, when she first met Kim Seokjin, she became a better version of herself. And he was a really good guy. They were the perfect, cringey, lovesick couple. And you couldn’t be happier for them.

That kind of relationship just wasn’t for you though. Unlike others who you know frown at your way of living, you personally thrive off of it. You consider hook ups as a way of relieving your pent up stress from life and from college. Having landed a scholarship to a pretty average university, with the help of Reina, you were able to leave your hometown and pursue something better for yourself. An option you would much rather prefer than wallowing in your own self pity. Constantly being reminded on a daily basis wherever you walked and looked of memories from a past life, or more specifically, memories that pertained a certain someone.

Completely zoning out on the phone, your best friend gave out a loud yawn and a ‘goodnight bitch’, before abruptly hanging up on you. Settling yourself underneath the blankets that held a stench of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, you closed your eyes, and instantly fell asleep from exhaustion. ‘Only two more days’ was the last thought to cross your mind before darkness took over, and the face of a long lost love embedded itself to the forefront of your dreams.

———————————————————————

Jungkook ducked behind one of the empty client chairs, narrowly avoiding getting pegged in the face by a stapler, courtesy of his roommate.

“Taehyung, come on man, you’re being completely unreasonable! How was I–,” he was cut off trying to avoid yet another random object being chucked at him that littered the front desk of his best friend’s tattoo parlor.

“YOU FUCKED MY SOULMATE YOU ASSHOLE!”

Jungkook let out a whimper upon hearing the voice of his best friend, Kim Taehyung, bellow at him in a menacing voice. One full of potential murder, if he was being honest.

“Technically, there wasn’t any penetration if it makes you feel better, cause we didn’t have a cond–,” this time he was successfully hit on the side of his face by a sample tattoo book customers can look through to get ideas. The hit making him fatally land on his back on the cold, hard, black and white checkered flooring that went throughout the studio.

“It doesn’t, in fact, make me feel better, Jungkook.” He glared at the male that now curled himself into a fetal position on the floor, anticipating the wailing he was going to get from the older male. He closed his eyes tightly, and waited. Until nothing happened.

Sighing in exhaustion, Taehyung lightly kicked the male on the floor with the steel toe of his boot, before starting to collect all the objects he threw in frustration and anger. Now coming to his senses since he was able to hit his mark, said mark being Jungkook’s face.

Pursing his lips, his eyebrows furrowed in careful thought as he bent over, still collecting the random items. Straightening back up, he walked back over to the front desk to set them all back accordingly. Once he was done, he looked back up to see Jungkook cradling the side of his face that got hit, sitting once again on the black couch.

Walking over to the couch himself, Taehyung joined his best friend and roommate. Facing forward with his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands together and set his chin on top of them, gears still turning in his head over Jungkook’s sudden fateful encounter.

“You said she was new to town?”

Nodding his head, Jungkook remembered a little more detail about the mystery female he has yet to mention to his roommate.

“Yeah. She came along with that bachelorette group. You know, for Reina. Cause she’s getting married in two days.” Jungkook stated factually.

Taehyung just ‘hmmed’ in response. He honestly had no fucking clue who this woman could be. The only person he could think of was one he’s tried to keep out of his mind for the last ten years since he first left this town. Though he’s found, since coming back to open a studio, that even though you’re not physically there in front of him, your memory is. And he thinks the constant barrage of memories is more fatal than you could ever be.

But even knowing that he may run into you while looking for his soulmate, he was determined to find them. Maybe she’s the reason he got a spontaneous call that he should open up a tattoo parlor in the very area he once lived, or survived, more like it. Otherwise, he never would’ve came close to this life draining town to begin with.

“So, you’re soulmate, huh? How does that make you feel?” Jungkook asked, wondering if his best friend was ready to meet his soulmate, here, of all places.

“It feels–,” his forehead furrowed in thought, pointer finger coming up to his mouth subconsciously to chew on the tip of his fingernail. A nervous habit he has yet to break out of. “–I feel,” he corrected his grammar as an afterthought, “like everything just makes sense now. Why else would I come here?” He asked looking at Jungkook.

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Other than to get even more rich off the new location? Love, it seems. You’re one lucky fucker, you know that?” Jungkook smiled enviously.

Taehyung snorted at his friends words, but didn’t disagree. Cause he was right. He was living a life he only ever dreamt of having, growing up in the town that he did. And he’s so close to finding his soulmate, he could feel it. He inwardly cringed, wondering if the only way he was somewhat feeling his soulmates presence was because of his best friend next to him getting intimate with them, so their aura still exudes from his body. It made him glare at Jungkook with narrow eyes.

“You need to take a shower.” He stated bluntly at the male, who only frowned in confusion, lifting the collar of his leather jacket up to his face to sniff it non discreetly.

“What? Why? All I smell is my cologne mixed with that woman’s perf–,” his eyes widened comically, as he abruptly stopped his train of thought, before slowly turning his head to peek at his best friend behind his hair. Yep, he was mad, again.

Jungkook fumbled back onto his feet in the now eerily silent tattoo parlor, and realized it was his time to get the hell out of there before his best friend started throwing furniture at his face instead.

“You know what? You’re right! As always. I’m just gonna head out and take that shower now, see you later–,” Jungkook angled his body and stepped towards the door located a few steps in front of him, unlocking it he risked another glance at Taehyung still seated on the couch. But now he held a grip of a pillow that was once secured on the couch, and widened his eyes, knowing he was in position to chuck it at him. Nope, not again. Thinking quick on his feet, he bolted past the now open threshold and shut the door behind him, hearing the tall tale ‘SMACK’ of an object hitting the glass door behind him. “Bye!” He yelled outside through the door with a cheeky grin and wave, before briskly walking down the sidewalk back to his unfortunately shared apartment with Taehyung. He just needed to make it in time to lock himself in his room before Taehyung made it back home.

Taehyung fluffed the pillow, picking it up off the floor and laid it back in its spot on the couch. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked at the tattoo parlor in deep thought. His soulmate, he chuckled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. Lifting the bottom half of his shirt up with one hand, he looked down and pulled the hem of his pants down an inch with his other and looked at the tattoo that was located on the spot just beneath where his waist band hid it perfectly. His soulmate tattoo.

An anatomically correct heart, with chains wrapped around it.

He remembers the night it was engraved into his skin in vivid detail. The clock just hitting midnight, meaning he was officially 18 and a legal adult. And just like everyone else in the world when they turned 18, he anticipated the burn that would follow shortly after. But not even textbooks, teachers, or his deadbeat parents, could properly describe the pain he felt as he laid on his lone mattress of a bed that was on the floor next to the window. His only source of light coming from the moon reflected through said window to encase his body in a magical glow he only saw in his head. Nor the relief that flooded his body as soon as it was done, and the clock read 12:01 in blaring white numbers from the digital clock precariously placed on the top of his makeshift nightstand of books, boxes and DVDs that was ready to collapse at a moment’s notice.

It only fueled the young adult with renewed determination to leave the small town. The only regret he would have, was breaking his promise and leaving you behind with it. But he needed to be set free from the cage he was living in and spread his wings. Not knowing he would soon become an Icarus that would fly too close to the sun.

———————————————————————

Clapping loudly, you joined the raucous cheers of excitement for the now newly wed couple, your best friend winking at you as she walked by you to head down the aisle with her husband, Jin. You followed closely behind with your partner for the wedding, the best man of the groom’s side on arm. You two leading the rest of the bridal and groom party in a path that will lead to the tent where the reception was being held for the after party.

Now it was time to let loose.

You beelined it to the free open bar for those who participated in the wedding. The perks of being the maid of honor, you thought slyly, clinking your glass with the best man’s. Both of you instantly chugging the liquor of choice in seconds, giving the glasses to the bartender to refill shortly after. Lord knows you both needed it, having to deal with the bridezilla, Reina.

Min Yoongi, said best man, gave your arm a gentle squeeze and let you know he was going to head over to congratulate the couple. You waved your hand at him in turn, silently telling him to go on without you. Right now, you just needed a breather. And you weren’t going to find that within this close body, sweat inducing, tent you were in.

Clutching the glass in your hand, you made your way to the opening of the tent, and walked out into the now fresh air of the garden that surrounded where the reception was taking place. The scent of roses wafted into your nostrils within seconds as you continued on your footpath, lifting the hem of your dress up with the other hand not holding your drink to walk in a faster pace towards your destination, the large fountain of Aphrodite.

It was extremely fitting, having the erected and perfectly posed statue of Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself, to look over and witness the vows that were spoken between two soulmate’s this evening. Giving the statue a mock salute with your glass in the air, you tilted your head back and chugged your drink.

Then, out of nowhere from behind you, you heard a voice you haven’t heard in years. Ten years, to be exact.

“Long time, no see, y/n.”

The glass slipped from your hand, palm now lined with sweat, your bodies natural reaction to the voice. The sound of it shattering on the concrete ground beneath your feet, one lone shard being flown towards your bare leg as it successfully cut into your skin, leaving a trail of blood in its wake, being the only proof that you were awake and the voice you just heard was real. It wasn’t another liquor induced dream. He was here. And he was behind you. The sole human being that made you into the woman you were today. For better and for worse.

Kim Taehyung.

———————————————————————

Jungkook and Taehyung effortlessly joined in with the crowd of the wedding that was being led inside, having made it just in time to watch the last few people dwindle into the ridiculously large tent. Both males locked eyes as they walked in and stood side by side.

“Okay, what did she look like?” Taehyung asked the male who was already surveying the table where the bridesmaids seemed to be located.

His eyes squinted from the spot where they stood, right by the dessert table to be exact. Jungkook playing the role of a famished guest with a big sweet tooth, apparently. Placing a square cut piece of strawberry shortcake into his mouth, he chewed it before swallowing.

“All I can remember was that she had short blonde hair, and–,” he stopped mid chew, mouth now full of what Taehyung thinks is their attempt at Hotteok, though the dessert lacks in toppings. Jungkook swallowed the dessert roughly.

“That is so dry, what a shame.” Jungkook tsked in dismay, sullen look on his face. He was ever the food critic, and very insatiable when it came to food. Which is why rather than face the critic, Taehyung opts to just call in food or they dine out to eat.

“Jungkook, focus, please. This is our only chance to find her.” Taehyung pleaded with the distracted male. Jungkook nodded at the tone of his voice and gave a meek grin.

“Actually, uh, that’s pretty much all I can remember. I wasn’t exactly sober that night, so the details kind of blur.” He sheepishly confessed with a humorless laugh.

A laugh that Taehyung gave back to his best friend before smacking him upside the back of the head and walking off, leaving the youngest to his own devices since he wasn’t going to be of much help it seems. Time to just go with his gut.

Jungkook sighed in defeat, before grabbing a stemless, chocolate covered strawberry and plopping it into his mouth. Letting out a small moan at the delicious dessert, it seemed to have caught the attention of a few females that were already staring the young male down, much to his delight. Now depicting an aura of confidence and suave, he tightened his tie as he walked towards the bridesmaids table to conduct an investigation of his own.

———————————————————————

Taehyung thought his luck was changing for the better when he first arrived to the wedding reception. But now having wandered through the tent, not one woman he’s locked eyes with has made him feel any kind of connection, nor do they have the short, blonde hair that Jungkook remembers. Looks like his luck was running out.

With a roll of his neck, he decides to walk out of the tent and immediately sees the tail end of a matching bridesmaid’s dress go behind a tall, green, manicured bush that littered the garden he was currently standing in. Odd, he thought. Now only trusting his gut, it was telling him that he needed to follow that material he saw floating gracefully in the light wind. So, that’s what he did.

Turning the corner, he stopped in the open pathway that led to the giant fountain to see the open backed, matching bridesmaid dress on a figure of a woman he has yet to see at this party until now. The figure of the woman being the one female he was hoping to never cross paths with this evening to avoid an awkward confrontation that now seemed inevitable. Looks like fate had other plans, he thought wryly.

But unlike the coward he was back then, he chose to stay and acknowledge the woman. Something he should’ve done a long time ago, if he was being honest with himself. Hands shoved into his pockets, he walked closer to the woman before stopping a few yards away, poised in a position that made him feel more confident then he sounded. And he spoke.

Your reaction made him flinch, the sound of the glass shattering in an echo around him. His hands came out of his pockets as he reflexively started to walk towards you to see if you were okay.

“Motherfucker–“ you hissed underneath your breath, feeling the slight sting of pain the lone shard created. Turning to sit on the wide, thick, stone that surrounded the statue and encased the clear, blue water inside of its prison, you bent over to inspect the wound, not even acknowledging the male in front of you.

Not even when he stepped closer to kneel down in his expensive looking white dress pants that you’re sure are going to have specks of dirt on them now. His shiny dress shoes looking equally as high end, which meant whatever suit he was wearing was definitely not something from the thrift store you always frequented to find the knock off versions of expensive brands.

“Still haven’t changed, have you?” He asked you in a bleak tone of voice. You not even realizing that you voiced your supposed inner thoughts out loud for him to hear. Oops.

Deeming the cut non life threatening, you sat up straight to look Taehyung in his eyes for the first time in ten years. A feat you would applaud yourself in the safety of your hotel room later for having the courage to do.

“Kim Taehyung! Would you look at you!” You gestured to his body with mock enthusiasm, making the male stand back up with a roll of his eyes as he settled his hands back into the pockets of his dress pants, resuming the same position he was in a moment ago, but more lax.

A slight buzz could be felt with the male, his body seemingly pulsating in waves when he looked you in the eyes, but he chocked it up to the few glasses of alcohol he treated himself to during his search of finding his soulmate. Sighing out loud, he decided to be the bigger person between you both.

“How have you been, y/n?” His eyes not so subtly wandering up and down your body to see just how much you’ve changed over the years since he last saw you. And man, did you blossom. It nearly made him choke up on his words when he saw your older, more mature, yet still beautiful face and body in all its glory. Your long, brunette, hair flowed freely in the wind, just like your dress. At least one thing was for sure, you definitely weren’t his soulmate, and he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or mildly disappointed with that fact. The slight disappointment hitting him in a way that made his heart drop in his stomach.

“Just peachy keen, as always.” You said in reply, using your signature phrase that made the corner of his lip quirk up in an almost smile without his doing. “Not that you actually care how I’m doing, but I’ll humor you nonetheless, to make you feel better about ditching me.”

The statement made his heart turn cold, and his body hot at the same time. Still had the same blunt personality as well it seems. Some things really never change, he thought with mirth.

Shaking his head in feigned amusement, he plastered a fake smile onto his face.

“When are you going to grow up, y/n? It’s been years, yes! And you’re still holding the same childish grudge?” He said in a patronizing tone and scoffed in disappointment.

“It wasn’t childish to me! You were all I had left in this shitty town and just like everyone else, you left me behind!” You retaliated in a scathing tone, voice raising in pitch at the anger you’ve held in for so long that wanted to come out.

“You can’t tell me that if the same opportunity arose for you, you wouldn’t of taken it, y/n!” His hand flew out of his pocket to point a condescending finger at your face, his voice, unlike yours, lowering in tone as his patience wore thin with your accusations.

Smacking his finger away with the back of your hand you stepped into his face and leaned in until your noses were almost touching. Lowering your voice, you whispered truthfully and eerily calm.

“You’re right. I would’ve taken the opportunity to leave this shitty town with all of its equally as shitty people, but you want to know the difference between us, Taehyung?” You spat his name vehemently.

“Unlike you,” you poked at his chest with every word that fell from your lips, causing the males facial expression to shift of one of anger, to one of pure sadness and regret.

“I would’ve taken you with me. Not leave you behind.”

With that final statement, and tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you brushed rather harshly against his shoulder and walked past him down the open pathway back towards the tent. Your eyes growing wide as you saw the same male that you hooked up with at the bar walk in the same direction you were leaving. His eyes widened even larger as soon as he saw you. Opening his mouth, he went to address you, when you chose to duck your head down and briskly walk past him instead, not giving him the chance to talk with you.

As good as a fuck he was, you were for once, not in the mood.

——————————————————————

Jungkook did nothing but stare at your bare back with a look of astonishment on his face. He gave up a long time ago with trying to find you, that he resorted to looking for his male companion instead. Having asked around, describing the unique suit his best friend was wearing tonight, it was a couple that pointed him in the direction he just witnessed you leave. A sobering fact coming to mind when he remembered your face. A face he could never forget, witnessing more than once how it looked like all blissed out from the sexual acts he performed on your writhing body. One that was attached to a head with now long, brunette hair. What the fuck? How drunk was he that night?

Muttering ‘what the fuck’ under his breath as he marched on, the dire need to tell his friend this newfound fact made him walk quicker to see if Taehyung truly was over here, cause if so, then there was no way he didn’t see you.

Taehyung was still in the same place you left him, his feet feeling like lead weights not allowing him to move. It even looked as if the statue of Aphrodite was staring down at the oblivious male with one of pity and disdain. How could he have been so stupid?

Clutching the sides of his hair in frustration, he let out a loud ‘FUCK’ into the night air, stars twinkling around him as if they were laughing at his misfortune.

Jungkook stilled in his footpath towards the male, and looked at him in confusion and worry. Completely forgetting the main cause in wanting to find the male in the first place, he instead asked Taehyung a question.

“Everything alright, bro?” It felt like a loaded question, one that was going to come back to shoot him in the foot. He was right.

The male in question pivoted so fast it made him lightheaded, before he directed his frustration at himself to his unsuspecting victim.

“Does it fucking look like I’m alright, bro?” He questioned back at Jungkook, emphasizing on the once endearing phrase of their bromance.

Jungkook flinched back at the cold way he was being treated, seemingly out of nowhere, which to him, it was. Not letting it get to him, he tried asking again, albeit taking a different, less reserved approach.

“Okay, asshole. No need to take your anger out on me. I get it.” He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. “Just came to find you and let you know that I found the woman from the bar.” He stated casually and didn’t offer any other information on the matter, using it as leverage to hang above the prick he called his best friend.

Taehyung just stared at him with a look of impatience, waiting for him to continue on with his findings, something that Jungkook would fail to give him until he asked him nicely. It was only fair. But unfortunately for the youngest male, it wouldn’t come anytime soon. Cause not even a moment later, Taehyung reached his boiling point for the day on everything going wrong. And he finally snapped.

——————————��————————————

You walked out of the ladies room in complete new attire, thanking your past self for bringing a bag of extra clothes and shoes to change into once you deemed yourself done with the after party. The white converse on your aching feet feeling like a foot massage at this point with every step you took. Having already bid your now married best friend and her husband a good night and even better honeymoon, accompanied by a cheeky wink by you, it was time to leave the now incredibly humid tent. Shifting the strap of the duffel bag you were carrying into a better position on your shoulder that housed your previous clothes and makeup just incase you needed a touch up, you were not prepared for the scene in front of you as pressed on past the flap of the tent that led to the outside world.

It was Taehyung and ‘thick thighs’, a nickname you came up with to call the no named male, walking side by side. Both males were showing some kind of injury on their once flawless skin. Taehyung had a bruise forming around his lower jawline, close to his lips. And Jungkook had what looked to be a busted lip with the way it was bleeding, though the male didn’t seem to think it was all that serious. In fact, both males that adorned the same injury of bruised knuckles were laughing and smiling at each other. What in the actual fuck were they on? Was someone supplying recreational drugs at this party or what? And why didn’t you know about it if they were?

Still staring at the two males with a look of confusion, a question lingered in the back of your mind. Did they know each other? And why were they both here of all places in the world, at your best friend’s wedding, wearing equally as expensive looking suits? It wasn’t until Jungkook locked eyes with you for the second time that night, did you finally decide to enact your flight or fight response. And, considering it looks as if they just got out of a fight themselves, you rationally chose the flight response, cause you’re a nice person and all.

But Jungkook was determined this time, if the sudden way he bent down on his knees as if getting in a running starter position was any consolation when he saw your body shift in a way he just knows you were about to book it yourself. Is this dude for real? You thought in shock. He wasn’t actually going to chase you was he? Just as the question hit your brain, he bolted in your direction heading straight towards you. Oh hell no.

Taehyung was none the wiser when it came to his best friend’s sudden change in demeanor, them laughing at each other over the fight they just got into, though at the time it wasn’t funny at all. Taehyung just needing a release from his blind anger, which Jungkook ultimately understood in the end after getting in a punch of his own, but suggested next time to invest in a punching bag instead of his face, the former male agreeing wholeheartedly.

So when Jungkook looked like he was ready to sprint, he went to ask why. But was effectively cut off when he bolted as if he was running in the Olympics. Looking at the direction in which his best friend was going, he then locked eyes with your widening ones. Eyes shifting between his best friend and you a few times, was when the connection in his brain finally occurred, remembering what the male told him after the fight they had.

Then - 15 minutes prior

Both still breathing heavily, slouched next to each other, leaning back against the thick short wall of the fountain, Jungkook decided it was time to let his friend know his findings. He only hoped it wasn’t too late, and you didn’t leave the party yet to give them time to find you.

Patting his busted open lip with a wince, he cautiously licked his lip, immediately tasting blood that he spat out on the concrete floor next to him. Then he turned his attention towards his best friend.

“So, the woman from the bar right?” He started casually, as if they didn’t just get done with beating each other to a pulp. “You’re not going to believe this but I found her! And you want to know a fun fact about her?” He questioned the male whose attention was effectively caught as soon as the mention of his soulmate came up for the topic of conversation.

Nodding his head cautiously, Taehyung wondered what the fun fact was.

“She apparently doesn’t have short, blonde hair! It must’ve been a wig or something she was wearing that night–,” he shrugged his shoulders, “cause when I saw her not even 10 minutes ago, her hair was completely different!” His eyes widened comically, just as they did when he first saw you earlier.

“And guess what? She actually has long, brunette hair!” Jungkook enthusiastically finished telling his findings with a flourish of his arms. The information made the male next to him give out a snort of amusement as he proceeded to ask the main question that he’s sure Jungkook should know by now and make this night a hell of a lot easier to find you. Your name.

When he asked the question, Jungkook’s reaction made him hang his head in bitter disbelief. Guess he gave the male too much credit. Sighing loudly, they both helped each other up off the cold floor and started walking back towards the tent. Where they would now be looking for a different version of you than when they first crashed the wedding.

Now

Taehyung looked at you with a face you’ve never seen before. It made you freaked out, but not as freaked out as the male that was charging straight for you still. Your body was supposed to be running away, but seeing the look on Taehyung’s face made your body feel weighted down with an overwhelming need of staying still and letting the male catch you. And for once, you listened to your body.

Jungkook’s momentum came to a slow jog as he saw your body language shift to one of compliance and acceptance. Which made him wonder exactly why you suddenly chose to let him get near you. As he stopped in front of you, panting lightly, he realized that not once have you looked at him, but rather at something behind him.

Turning his body sideways to still keep you within his peripheral incase you did decide to try and escape, he was also able to see what caught your attention in a vice with the wide area of view his new position offered him. The only viable option being Taehyung. Whom he realized stood in the same exact spot he left him at prior to running, the male staring at you with a look on his face he doesn’t think he’s ever quite witnessed himself in all the years he’s known him, having met shortly after he arrived in his town of Seoul.

Not wanting to repeat his mistakes for a third time, however, he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind to ask you a very simple, yet very important question.

“For all that is holy, what is your name?” Jungkook asked you in a desperate, yet pleading tone.

Not looking at him you replied.

“My name is y/n, y/n y/l/n.” It was all you offered, but it was enough.

Cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure that his best friend hears what he’s about to relay clearly, he shouted your name into the night air along with a well known fact to everyone but the two fated soulmate’s.

“Yo, Taehyung! Your soulmate’s name is y/n!”

The sentence made you immediately turn towards the male next you to with a shaky inhale. Your voice was so quiet, you didn’t think he would be able to hear what you said to him.

“What the fuck did you just say, thick thighs?” The nickname leaving your lips without shame, you addressed him with slight fear in your voice. What he said wasn’t true, right? It can’t be true. You would’ve known. He would’ve told–

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization.

Taehyung may have turned 18, but he left the same day, your friendship effectively being cut off before you could even properly ask what his soulmate tattoo was of. The shaky inhale, turned into many, as you started to become short of breath, making the male next to you give you a look of concern. His still large, tattooed, ring clad hands you were intimately aware of held out in a way of wanting to help you, but not knowing how.

With your attention off of Taehyung, you cut off the locked gaze you held with him. Which made Taehyung come back to his senses enough to know you needed his help when he heard your gasps for breath from where he was standing. But even as he briskly walked towards you, it was his best friend’s voice that still rung in his ears like a song you can’t get out of your head. His mind doubting was his heart was telling him, were you actually his–

He couldn’t even say it in his own head, how the hell was he supposed to acknowledge it out loud, in front of you?

Now standing in front of you, Taehyung immediately shuffled off the duffel bag you were carrying from your shoulder and set it on the ground next to you. Resting his hands on your shoulders, ducking his head to make you look into his eyes to watch him evenly take big breaths and let them out, he waited until your chest stopped moving so erratically. And even then, he still continued with the breathing ministrations until you were able to verbally tell him you were fine.

“I’m fine, Tae. I’m fine.” You reassured him with a small smile. “I just need–,” you didn’t bother explaining as you walked to the bench that was located not too far from where you all were standing. Sitting down on the bench, your hands clutched your knees as you closed your eyes to listen to the world around you in an attempt to fully ground yourself.

Taehyung went to pick up your duffel bag and follow you, until Jungkook gently swatted his hands away and picked it up himself, silently gesturing with his head towards you. Taehyung gave him a nod in thanks, as Jungkook left him to head back inside the tent. Probably to engorge himself with the dessert table again, and any single women that still remained.

———————————————————————

Cautiously, he sat down on the unoccupied space next to you, making sure to leave a comforting gap between you both. He went to just rip off the metaphorical bandaid, but it was you who beat him to it.

“Can I see your tattoo?” You asked meekly, opening your eyes to stare at the ground, the complete opposite to how your personality is.

He didn’t reply. Standing back up, he untucked his dress shirt from his pants and loosened his belt buckle. Lifting the bottom half of his shirt up, he used his other hand to bend the waistband of his dress pants enough to show you his soulmate tattoo he received the same day he let you go. A decision he would always kick himself for doing. The regret that showed on his face as he showed you the tattoo made your eyes well up with unshed tears.

Standing up to join him, you mimicked his actions. Lifting the bottom of your own shirt up, you then used your free hand to bend down the waistband of your faded, worn out, denim jeans to show your exact replica of his tattoo that was even located in the same area.

So, it was true, you both thought at the same time. You were soulmates.

Taehyung stared at your tattoo while saying his next words. The coward in him that was disgusted with his young selfs actions, refusing to let him have the privilege into looking into your eyes knowing he doesn’t deserve what he’s about to ask, but he’ll try anyways.

“Y/N, I am so–,” his voice choked up, making him let out a humorless watery chuckle, his emotions now starting to get the best of him, ” so sorry. I know I’m a complete fuck up. A downright idiot, if I’m being honest, for leaving you all by yourself in a time you needed me the most. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance at being in your presence, let alone to stand next to you and be your friend. But I promise–,” regaining his courage with a newfound determination in his eyes, he grabbed your hands that were just as sweaty as his were which made him smile inwardly knowing he wasn’t alone in his feelings, as he made you a solemn promise that he meant with his entire being. “That I will spend the rest of my days trying to prove to you that I do selfishly deserve to be your friend and your soulmate, if you’ll give me the honor to ever reach either of those milestones. I’m deeply sorry it took me ten years to realize that I do love you, y/n. I do.” He whispered the last few words of his speech for only you to hear, hoping it’ll make some kind of difference in your decision. Not knowing he was about to be sorely, and rightfully, disappointed.

You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of him being dishonest with you and playing some cruel joke. Surprisingly, you didn’t find any. Your heart was overjoyed with the weight of his words, but your mind was telling you that even though you’re soulmates, it doesn’t mean you need to forgive him so easily. And you were one stubborn bitch. That’ll never change. But you have a feeling he’s already expecting that kind of answer from you, having known you for so long. And also came the fact that you were petty, which is why you recited to him the same words he said to you all those years ago to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“But I’m not in love with you, Taehyung.”

You recited the words perfectly, the only difference is you said them with less confidence, and less conviction than he so heartlessly did with you all those years ago. Truthfully, as dumb as it was, you were still in love with him. But you were old enough now to realize that sometimes that fact alone wasn’t enough. Soulmates or not. If he wanted you, he was going to have to work his ass off.

The way his face crumpled into one of pure sadness as he bit his lip to keep from letting out a sob, made you almost regret saying the same heart piercing words. Your own heart feeling heavy as well. But you steeled your resolve as you slowly pulled your hands out of his. The action alone causing tears to flow down his cheeks freely.

“However, that doesn’t mean there’s still not a chance that I could fall in love with you, again.” You emphasized on the word again, this time making sure to give him a reassuring heartfelt smile on your face so he understood it could happen with time. That there was a possibility for love, for hope, for a future together, if you both worked hard to ensure it.

“And also, I have one more condition before we truly give this a shot.” You poked at his chest, this time playfully, causing him to actually give out a watery chuckle with a now grateful smile on his face.

“Okay.” His deep, baritone, voice said in resolve.

Choosing to clutch onto the lapels of his blazer he was wearing, you brought him flush against the front of your body, a noise making its way out of his mouth not expecting the sudden change in position. His hands instantly went to rest on your waist, eyes widening as his mouth hung slightly open in shock. Damn, if he didn’t find the dominant side of you insanely sexy. He couldn’t wait to explore that part of you in the future.

“You are not allowed to leave me behind, ever.” You narrowed your eyes in what you thought would be an intimidating manner, but he only saw it as cute. Something he would later tell you, much to your dismay.

“Deal.” He agreed not even a split second later, barely giving you time to finish what you were saying. He would’ve agreed to anything though, if it meant a legitimate chance with you.

“Can I kiss you now? I really want to kiss you.” He asked breathlessly. His body being in close proximity to yours made his heart start beating so much, he thought it was going to burst out of his chest if he couldn’t release at least a little bit of what his soulmate bond wanted from you. And, what he wanted to do as well, soulmate bond be damned.

Grinning cheekily at his obvious signs of being turned on by your demanding side, don’t think you didn’t notice, you were about to tease him more when he leaned down and closed the distance between you without a second thought. Lips molding together in perfect harmony, you decided to give in to the kiss, hands sliding up his blazer to now grab onto the back of his hair, giving it a slight tug. He groaned into your mouth in response, enjoying it fully. Yet another thing you would keep locked in your mind for later sexual activities. His own hands started to dip lower in retaliation, coming to cup the underside of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.

A loud whooping and clapping from behind you both is what broke you out of your heated make out session, probably for the better. You didn’t want to give in to him so easily. Even though you desperately wanted nothing more than to take him back to your dingy hotel room to see how capable his mouth and hands were compared to his friend’s.

You both turned in your strong hold’s on each other to roll your eyes in sync at the youngest onlooker’s reactions. Jungkook only giving you both a shit eating grin in response, a sly comment on the tip of his tongue, when a woman walked out to stand next to him and grab his arm. She was pretty, and she told you her name once, but that was about it. Good for her, though. She was in for a good time, you smirked inwardly. They walked off together after Jungkook gave a signal to Taehyung not to come back home for the night. A signal he grimaced at before turning to ask you if he could stay with you tonight, no funny business, he promised. Not wanting to overstep too soon in your friendship? Relationship? He wasn’t sure what to call it, but he didn’t care.

“Yeah, you can stay with me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight. She is going to be a loud one, for sure.” He gave you a look of mock disgust at your insinuation, but knew you weren’t wrong, she did look like a screamer. “Least, I know I was barely able to keep quiet with him.” You smirked at him, before patting his chest playfully, successfully pulling yourself away from him to head back to the tent to grab your duffel bag Jungkook said he left with one of the bridesmaids.

His eyes narrowed at your back, fully understanding what you were telling him. Jungkook having given him the explicit details himself when he came back to his tattoo parlor that same night you guys hooked up, but it didn’t make him any less angry and jealous.

Running after you, you looked back to see him gaining on your form and squealed in laughter as he scooped you up around your waist to spin you both around. A look of pure joy and love could be seen on both of your faces as passerbys and onlookers watched you both, some with smiles, others with disgust at the unwarranted public display of affection. Only one thought in their head.

Oh yeah, they thought collectively.

They’re definitely soulmates.

[goldenkirstein]

She lives in daydreams with me

or alternatively, when jean and you visit Ikea

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 1.5k+

tags: fluff, modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: I was inspired by this post, also I just like Ikea, I think Jean would to tbh. am i living out my own daydreams with Jean by writing this? potentially. i love him lol. Feedback and any criticism encouraged lmao.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Your head tilted as you stared dead-on at the boy in front of you.

“Jean, what is that?”

“What are you talking about baby, this is a-” He squinted, looking at the tag, of what you assumed to be a night light?

“An-garna.” Jean looked back up at you, grinning widely.

You had come earlier to Ikea, needing to buy some storage baskets for your room, and yet here you were standing in a miniature model of a child’s room, staring at the six-foot three-man holding a children’s night light, that had...Was that panda face design on it?

“Jean, my love, my dear, we don’t have kids; why on Earth would I need a children’s night light?” The toothy grin quickly disappeared from his face, quickly replaced with a stern expression.

“Just because something is marketed towards children doesn’t mean adults can’t buy it, and anyways I was merely suggesting it, knowing how you can’t sleep after watching horror movies.” It’s more like when he can’t sleep after watching, but his ego would never let him admit that.

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, “put it in the cart, Kirstein.” He flashed you a smile, coming over and placing a kiss on your cheek before mumbling a small thank you.

As much as you would act annoyed or unamused when it came to Jean’s antics, it was more or less a front. You loved it when he would let his guard down in public with you. He wasn’t always like this; the Jean you met years prior would be caught dead before expressing his affections in public. He would get easily flustered, blush to sport his face if anyone he knew saw him admiring and doting on his girlfriend. It wasn’t something that deeply upset you; in a way, you were able to keep a tiny part of Jean to yourself, the goofy, tender side of him that he only let out when he was with you. However, watching him become more confident in himself and expressing his love for you outranked any desires that you had to keep Jean bottled up for your gratification.

He walked in front, long legs carrying him practically miles in front of you until he turned a corner and found himself situated in a living-room model. You followed shortly after and saw that he was making himself comfortable on a charcoal-grey couch.

“Mm, come sit,” he patted gently on the cushion next to him, gesturing to you to join him on the sofa. You raised your eyebrows and let out a giggle, situating the cart near a side table before accompanying him.

“What do you wanna watch babe,” Jean tilted his head, signalling to the fake flat-screen in front of you. You thought about tormenting the boy; however, you opted to play along with him this time.

“Oooh, I don’t know, check if the new Grey’s episode is out.” He smiled at you, appreciating your willingness to get lost in this daydream with him. His smile quickly shifted into a mischievous grin as he poked your side.

“Heyyy, what the fuck was that for!” You recoiled, shrinking away from him, but before you could get far enough away from him, he pulled you back into his side. You tried squirming away from him, only for his grip on you to get stronger, and you were met with a chuckle—the noise reverberating around the tiny living room.

“Really? Greys? On a night like this?” You shifted your body, turning your head to look at the “window” covered with sheer beige curtains, overlaid with opaque maroon ones. Outside, or rather you should say the wall was painted white, so you began drumming up a scenario in your mind. That was tonight, a spring evening, stars visible in the night sky? Or a cold and snowy winter’s night? The purple tinge of the atmosphere apparent through the translucent curtains. Jean stared at you intently, wondering what you will come up with, his gaze shifting as the corners of your lips upturned; you had settled on an idea.

“Oooh yeah, it’s practically pitch black outside; I can only see the streetlights in the distance. We should really do something about that pesky tree, though. Its branches keep tapping on the window; it’s frankly quite annoying.” A rosy tinge was present on his cheeks, hazel eyes twinkling at you.

You placed a hand on his chest, your focus entirely on the love-struck boy in front of you, “You know what? We should totally watch a horror movie!” Just as you began to immerse yourself in the daydream, Jean shot up from the couch, leaving an indent where he was sitting behind.

“Alright, enough dilly-dallying, we should go home now.” He clapped his hands together, moving to grab the cart to leave the store display.

Dilly-dallying? Did he really just say dilly-dallying?

“What’s wrong, Jean-boy? This is our home! Oooh, don’t tell me you don’t wanna watch because you’re scared.” You fell back on the couch, beaming, elbows propping you up as you teased him.

“Am not. I just decided that I’m in the mood for cinnamon rolls and fro-yo.” He placed his elbow on the handles of the cart, head resting in the palm of his hand. He gave you an unimpressed look.

“Oh really? Who’s that night-light for again? I seem to have forgotten.” This time it was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Without saying anything, he placed his hands back on the cart’s handle and began to leave the “living room.”

You swung your legs over, a giggle leaving your mouth as you walked over to your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on him. “Babe, I was just joking; I didn’t mean to upset you,” you mumbled into him.

He let out a sigh and stopped in the middle of the aisle. You watched as he brought one of his hands down to grasp one of yours that had taken hold of his waist. Jean turned to face you, head tilting as a slight smirk overtook his face. “That’s what I was waiting to hear.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning around to continue rolling the cart forward to his destination.

His arm extended behind him, motioning to you to hold his hand. You obliged, your palm sliding in his, fingers curling around your knuckles as his. “Whatever,” you grumbled, choosing to turn your head to observe the variety of rugs that were hanging on display. He tugged at your hand, an amused expression painting his face.

“You want those cinnamon buns or not, pretty girl?” The pet name almost made you choke. He knew what it would do to you. He would use it sparsely, only to coax a reaction out of you, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know the hold he had over you.

You whipped your head back to face him, confident to quip back at him, but it all melted when you saw the way he was looking at you; a lop-sided smirk, his tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for what you had to say.

“Yeah, I do.” You managed to slip a few words out. He had won this one, using his charms to debilitate any assuredness you had. He brought your linked hands up to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of your hand, humming in delight.

“You know, we should come here more often, live out our domestic daydreams together.” The smells of cinnamon buns were getting stronger as you walked on.

“Sure, but you could also just move in with me.”

The tips of his ears went red, and you paused, realizing what you just said, the weight of what you just said. You had thought about asking him to move in with you, but you didn’t mean for it to slip out in the middle of a random conversation; in Ikea nonetheless. “I- You don’t have to. I was just joking. I don’t know why I said that.”

Your voice dwindled to merely a whisper as you completed your sentence. Jean stopped the cart once more. “Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.” His expression was earnest as he looked at you, eyes glittering with adoration as he waited for your response.

“Whoa, whoa, hold your horses cowboy. We can talk about this after you get me those cinnamon buns you promised.” you wiped any sense of embarrassment from your face as you tried to suppress your laughter, which was caused by the zealousness your boyfriend had just shown.

However, there was no doubt that your heart did grow in fondness for Jean, and you were relieved that he wasn’t off-put by your haphazard confession. He was absolutely whipped for you, and you couldn’t deny that you were head over heels in love with him either. You desired to continue to share your life with him, and moving in together would be the next step in your relationship.

“Yes, Ma’am” His voice broke you out of your thoughts as he placed his hand to his forehead to salute you. You giggled at his actions.

“Lead the way, Kirstein.”

a/n: lol, this was practically for my own self-indulgence. and i feel like this was a tad bit ooc idk. Anywayssss, I would like to mention that I'm working on a navigation page with taglists and such and thinking about requests. I wanna branch out write for more aot characters as well as jjk and hq. Again, I'm very new to this so it's gonna take some time. I would love to know ur thoughts on all of this lol.

As always, please leave a like/reblog (i love reading tags makes me happy heh) if you enjoyed this, I appreciate lots <33