#idk I always thought it was one of those series where I'd have to be a guy to get it honestly

[the-hype-dragon]

thinking about plunging into rereading WoT, I think I made it about halfway before I gave up

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

[genericpuff]

Omg hiiii, I absolutely love Rekindled! You're so talented, and the story you're making for Persephone is so intriguing! A lot more than whatever trashfire Lore Olympus has become.

That being said, what was the moment you stopped liking LO Persephone? Have you always disliked her, or was it gradual? Or just a specific moment that made you go "yeaaaaah.. she's not it ;-;"

(And bonus question if I can ask, but how do you draw hands?? I hate them with a passion, but unfortunately hands are pretty necessary T^T)

aahhh thank you so much!!!

honestly, I was a pretty big fan of LO up until the trial arc. Like, you've all seen me hate this comic with a fiery passion, but the only reason I'm able to do that is because before I hated this comic, I loooved this comic. I'd literally be counting down the hours until new updates, I loved the art, and I was too smitten by the appeal of the series to notice its writing problems, I just loved the romantic drama and the H x P ship, and yes, I loved Persephone, I loved her design, her personality, and I felt so 'seen' by her struggles, both with her trying to pave a path for herself and the SA plotline. I was even (regrettably) one of those people who would lurk in the antiLO tags and think "wow, these people are dumb, can't they see how brilliantly written this is ?? they're nitpicking!"

But then the trial arc happened which involved writing a plot that didn't put the romance front and center anymore - now that Rachel had to actually write something complex and logic-driven, the blinders started to fall off and I went wait... maybe Rachel doesn't know what she's doing. Persephone choosing her own lawyer? And it's Hades, one of the judges? Why are they suddenly establishing Thanatos as Hades' adoptive son? I'm not a lawyer, but I know that's not how any of this works and it really tipped me off that something was amiss, that Persephone was having all of her solutions conveniently handed to her on a platter and all of the other characters were suddenly being made to look like assholes just to make Hades and Persephone the heroes.

And then... Eris happened.

See, one of the things I loved most in the story was Persephone's character arc concerning the Act of Wrath. I write stories about characters with dark "personas" all of the time. So it was something I had frame of reference for, I really loved the premise of Persephone earning her name through this act of violence and while it was dashed with the opening of S2 revealing it was "all an accident", I was excited to see how the trial arc would bring about new information and confirm who was telling the truth about what "really happened" with the Act of Wrath. If the courtroom drama wasn't gonna be realistic, I could at least hope for some good 'OBJECTION!' reveal that would finally put to rest once and for all what really happened, and maybe Kore would finally embrace this 'dark side' she had.

So for the actual twist to suddenly reveal itself as... 'actually, this one goddess we've never mentioned before blessed you with wrath. why? idk she just did. anyways she's the reason you have wrath and that's what made you commit the act of wrath. problem solved.'

And that was where the twisting of 'faith' happened. When I went through the subconscious realization of , "Oh no, Rachel doesn't know what she's doing and it took me this long to notice. Oh no, maybe those antiLO freaks had a point-"

That said, there was a glimmer of hope in the midseason finale. Persephone was sentenced to remain in the Mortal Realm to carry out her mother's duties and I thought, "great! This will be Persephone's Rocky moment! She'll have to prove herself without the help of Demeter or Hades! This is gonna be awesome!!" During the hiatus, I was VERY excited to see where the story was going, I still had so much hope and I figured the mishandling of the trial arc was just a bump in the road. The series was still good, it was just going through a rough patch, these things happen.

And then it came back and it all went downhill from there. There was a 10 year time skip with very little insight as to what happened. Minthe and Daphne were just suddenly back to normal. They were referencing some food shortage or terrible event that happened during Persephone's reign that they never explained in explicit detail. And now, all of a sudden, Persephone was just returning to the Underworld, where Kronos had suddenly taken over. I had cautious optimism but throughout it, I was really seeing the cracks that were already forming opening wide. A lot of what I had to say wasn't positive anymore, I literally couldn't understand what the reasoning was behind these writing decisions and I couldn't find myself rooting for Persephone anymore, everything just seemed to convenient and easy for her to make her seem like the "strong and confident" character the comic claimed her to be.

The S2 finale was my breaking point and I think it was for a lot of other people too. That was pretty much where my 'transformation' from passionate stan to passionate critic happened, and it happened alongside the creation of the UnpopularLoreOlympus subreddit which would become my new 'home' within the community. After seeing how much the story had gone downhill, it made me realize in hindsight just how awful and one-note Persephone is, how she really never cared about anyone but herself and Hades, how her mother did, actually, have a point about her being practically groomed into a relationship with a billionaire slave driver, how she was very intentionally drawn to look like a child in ways I couldn't believe I had never noticed before, the list of "awakenings" goes on. And it sucked! It sucked to have that realization that the thing I loved wasn't just imperfect, but incredibly problematic in its writing and art choices. And just like when I loved the comic, I couldn't just let go of it, I had to understand to some degree why this happened.

It happened because Persephone was always being written as a one-note, easy to project onto self-insert character. A Wattpad protagonist. Not an actual representation of the Goddess of Spring, but a blank slate for the creator and the fans to imagine themselves as purely for the power fantasy of hooking up with a rich and abusive guy.

That was when I made my first piece of LO art intended to be an 'edit' - a redraw of Persephone's rebirth as the Dread Queen from the S2 finale, an ode to the Persephone I was hoping to see but never got. The rest from there is history.

I know I'm being SUPER dramatic about it but this was literally how it felt to go through the realization that this comic - and its characters - wasn't as good as I thought it was, and I think that's a sentiment that's shared by a lot of the 'haters' in this community. LO was a big part of my life and even some of my friendships with people, so when it went downhill, it felt like such a hit to the gut. It's still a big part of my life, albeit in the opposite direction, but I still wonder sometimes over the "what ifs", what if the series hadn't turned out this way? What if I had never realized its flaws? Rekindled is basically a love letter to those what ifs, satisfying the feelings I never got to keep with LO, and giving me a reason to count down the hours on Saturday nights again. I'm glad it's made that same impact for others, too <3

[anythingforstories]

Currently reading Lord of the Rings for the first time. Never seen the movies (I want to read the book first) and the majority of my LOTR knowledge comes through memes and spoilers on Tumblr analysis posts. I've made it through Fellowship of the Ring and am now in The Two Towers, specifically the chapter where Merry and Pippin meet Treebeard.

Thoughts and predictions at this point (contains spoilers, but it's been out since 1954, so deal with it):

-So I guess "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard" was Merry and Pippin? In which case, they did not end up taking the hobbits to Isengard. Pity.

-(No but really, I had thought that referred to Frodo and Sam because I think they're slaves at some point? IDK. Maybe they're slaves in Mordor. I shall have to wait and see.)

-I am happy that Merry and Pippin have had more page time and got to have a clever escape. I was beginning to wonder why they were there in the story. I do like them, though.

-I wonder if Treebeard is important?

-During the entire second half of Fellowship of the Ring, I was thinking, "Surely Legolas has a bigger role, based upon the number of fangirls?" I now see that he does have more page time, though still at this point, I feel his fangirls may have overinflated his role within the story. Perhaps he shall do more later, though. Still a cool dude, in any case, sleeping while walking and all that.

-Gandalf's defeat was less dramatic than I'd always imagined. Pretty sure he's not gone forever, based mostly upon memes and fanart. And also the fact that he seems to be rather too important to be gone this soon.

-I'd honestly anticipated a long redemption arc for Boromir. Based upon all the analysis I've seen about him, I had vaguely known he sacrificed himself for the hobbits, but didn't expect it to be this soon. Not sure how I feel about this. (I did cry, and then I cried again when Aragorn didn't reveal what he'd been up to to Legolas and Gimli. I didn't actually expect to cry while reading LOTR. But the tragedy hit hard.)

-I know there's gonna be a romance between an elf-lady and a man, but I'm not sure who with whom. I don't think there's been a single hint of that yet. Maybe I'm wrong.

-Pretty sure they're going to see the ocean?

-"I am no man!" (Or something along those lines. I hope that wasn't movie-original; I think I've seen pictures of that text in the books? But it sounds very epic.)

-Gollum is a persistent chap. I rather like him. I do, unfortunately, know his fate. My sisters watched the movies when they were little and that's one of the only things they can remember.

-It's definitely picked up compared to the first book! Unlike many people, though, I did read through all those pages of pure worldbuilding lore at the beginning. It was boring and yet delightful.

-I need a map. I'm borrowing a friend's version where there's all the books in one cover with lots of illustrations and such. There was a map of the Shire but not of everything. I could easily look it up online, but I'm stubborn and want to see if the book will have one at some point.

-Can't wait for Aragorn to come back as king. I assume this shall happen in Return of the King. It would make sense. He seems a good fit for the job.

-I would DEVOUR an anime of this series. Specifically, a book-accurate one.

-Sam is excellent.

-Lots of fantasy seems so much less original after reading LOTR :P

[imanes]

doing a lil august reading wrap up because apparently i read 13 (!!) books. in chronological order (bolded are those i recommend):

city of stairs by robert jackson bennett: quite the interesting read. i think the character work in this one is a standout, as well as the world building. the good thing is i have no idea where this trilogy is going so it's exciting. the audiobook for the second book arrives in 2 weeks on my shelves on libby so I'll be reading the sequel soon

braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer: this one took me a whole entire year to read and finish lol. no comment. or maybe one comment: i think i'd have found this book a lot more eye opening if i had read it three years ago so right book wrong time i guess? i do recommend it i just think it didn't impact me as much as i thought it would

the blighted worlds by megan e. o'keefe: this one hit me like a truck!! i was so obsessed. it's a sci-fi space opera with an element of horror and an interesting romance sub-plot. basically everything i love lmao. i really do recommend this book it might actually be my fave of the month

sanctuary by ilona andrews: i have to stay up to date on all things kate daniels-related to this spin off was high on my tbr. it was a lot of fun but it petered out toward the end

where the dark stands still by a.b. poranek: a bit of a let down not gonna lie. the gist of my opinion is that it felt underdeveloped and in turn i felt under-interested in whatever was going on

shadows of self by brandon sanderson: once again i am begging the protagonists of this series to stop being aggravating

the fractured dark by megan e. o'keefe: continuing my obsession with the devoured worlds trilogy... unfortunately i have to wait on my libby hold to get the audiobook of the next one (i read with my eyeballs and listen at the same time to help with concentration)

the right to sex - feminism in the 21st century by amia srinivasan: i read this book because i know of two people who broke up with their significant other (one of them resulting in a divorce) after reading this book so i had to know what srinivasan had cooked in there and yeah she did cook.

the way of kings by brandon sanderson: just part of my re-read in preparation of the release of wind and truth in December. this month we tackle (again) words of radiance teehee

just for the summer by abby jimenez: womp womp womp. idk what it is with romance authors these days they're in a competition with themselves to portray the healthiest love stories but this one teetered on the wrong side of boring one too many times and the volume to therapy-speech in this one was staggering.

the ex vows by joyce jessica: twas a cute poolside read, it's nothing revolutionary but it was pleasant enough and it didn't make me roll my eyes like just for the summer jdkjgsk at least the love interest had a personality and a life... i mean it's fiction so it's not a life but it appeared as if he contained multitudes or something

funny story by emily henry: I'll go ahead and say it nobody writes a contemporary romance quite like miss henry because she's got the secret recipe for the right balance between heartfelt feelings and amusing situations + her dialogues feel a lot more natural than most (though if i had to nitpick she always has this side character who's a fountain of wisdom and gives you life-changing monologues but i guess such people exist out there)

the thief by megan whalen turner: the megans are really out in full force because this is another book written by a megan that i loved so much. yes half of this book is a fairly episodic journey across made-up countries, yes i ate it up, yes the second half is worth the wait (if you were out of patience, which i wasn't, bc i was having fun) and yes the plot twists are chef's kiss. "gen's ambitions are his own" is the perfect summary. everand has all the audiobooks so you know what I'm gonna do... that's right... listen and read at the same time

as an aside the tandem reads i do with both books and audiobooks happen only when i like the narrators. if i find a narrator i like i stick to them like glue because they're few and far between as far as my picky ass is concerned. i never do romance audiobooks they're the worst...

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hi there!

I had some questions (or statements I wanted to discuss I’m not sure what to call them) because I genuinely don’t know much about the subject. I’m on anon right now but I may comment on my own account later. Also don’t feel obligated to answer if this makes you uncomfortable.

So I was wondering if you could articulate any thoughts on proshipping in the kotlc fandom? I wanted to know your thoughts as from my understanding (and please correct me if I’m wrong) you see it pretty positively, and I wanted to better understand the ‘issue’ (idk what to call it)

Anyways I thought I should include what I already know.

So I understand that when people participate in proshipping it does not reflect their actual worldview.

I understand that it is fictional and really doesn’t affect real life.

I think my issue with proshipping has to do specifically with it happening in the kotlc fandom, and this has to do with Keeper of the Lost Cities being a kids series. My problem isn’t specifically with that, but mostly with the amount of “kids” participating in our fandom space (not actual kids like ten year olds but from my understanding we have an array of people from ages 13-16 who I would consider pretty young)

I just worry about when people make posts about, for example, one of the main cast and an adult in the series, because the Keeper casts ages may closely reflect the actual ages of people in the fandom, we’re creating an unsafe environment and these posts may affect what these ‘kids’ think is okay in real life or for themselves.

Anyways, I wanted to share my thoughts but I really mean it when I say I want to hear your thoughts, I don’t think I know enough about the ‘issue’, especially from the other perspective.

(Also, this isn’t really about your call out post about call out posts, I’ve just seen you liking some pro shipper stuff so I thought you might be interested in that sort of thing)

Hi! Thank you for being respectful about this. First, I avoid labels like "anti" or "proship," as they tend to create an unhelpful us vs. them dichotomy. Especially when, like these terms, they have strong associations and generate strong reactions upfront. It's not, in my opinion, conducive to productive conversation

I believe that all fiction, including disgusting, depraved, uncomfortable fiction, should be allowed to exist without restriction. Whether that's incestuous, predatory, or otherwise.

We don't have to read/watch it. We don't have to like it. Or be comfortable with it. But it needs to be allowed to exist.

It's existence does not harm us (the most that happens is we realize, we are uncomfortable, and then we stop watching/reading/etc. and move on), and there is no way to reliably moderate fiction. It will always be arbitrary, and those arbitrary distinctions will always be enforced by the privileged with power, who will use it to create their narrative and silence others.

The issue many people get stuck on, like you, is about children. Now I'm not saying this is what you're doing, but I'd like to bring up the Think Of The Children logical fallacy. It's a more recent one, so it's less known, and I'm just linking the wikipedia.

What it does is switch to emotional thinking, creating this idea of these helpless little things in danger we need to protect. It creates moral panic, because what are you gonna do? Argue against the children? You monster! It can shut things down.

And while children are young and still learning and need guidance, they're also people. They have their own thoughts, reactions, and choices. They use their childhood to practice that, which is aided by fiction. Fiction is a practice run for the real thing; it can be that learning and guidance

Children take what they see in fiction, where no real people are hurt or in these scary situations, and react. They form opinions, determine what they think is right or wrong, and they have more room for error. For example, it is safer for them to misjudge an actually malicious adult in a story, learn what the warning signs were, and be more cautious going forward with no real life consequence than to make that mistake for the first time with a real person.

This is just a general overview. To specifically address this fandom and its ships, I'm going to start with this: when you were 14, did you think it was okay to date an adult? Did you ever see incestuous art/fic and start wondering if it was okay to date your sister?

Yes, consistent, repeated exposure of concepts from influential places can normalize them. Is that a genuine risk here, or what is happening? Have you seen it happen before on a wide enough scale to be generally applicable? I, of course, cannot speak for everyone, but I already knew those weren't okay by the time I joined the fandom at 13. Yes, 13 is young, but 13 year olds are capable of complex thought and reasoning. Their minds aren't going to be changed that easily, and a lot of them would probably resent the implication (even if unintentional, this is nothing against you) they couldn't figure it out for themselves. At least I would've

And more specific to keeper again: we have maybe a handful of these "weird" and "gross" ships/aus/etc. Posted by a number of people I could likely count on one hand, incredibly infrequently. This is a genuine invitation to think it through: what is that going to do?

Is that from enough places with enough power to normalize these ideas? Who is seeing it? How impressionable are they? Have they already formed ideas of right and wrong? Will this change that?

The conclusion I've come to is: 13 years old is young in the grand scheme of things, but at 13 years old you are capable of complex thought. I don't think the limited number of these "objectionable" topics and posters, which/who can be easily avoided, is going to normalize or make people think it's okay irl. It didn't happen with us, did it?

And I think, to some extent, limiting exposure or controlling media access takes away agency and choice, and that young people being able to experience difficult concepts in fiction before seeing them in real life is beneficial. This often then leads to "but what if they read something really icky they hate!" to which I say, kids aren't going to do things they don't want to. They won't watch movies, shows, or read books about things they're uncomfortable with or disinterested in. I simply put the book down and read something else.

And if they're being forced to, that's a different problem, and the solution is not to make sure the media doesn't exist or they can't access it.

This has been long, broad, sometimes specific, and more all in the attempt to be thorough. What it boils down to is: I don't think what you're worried about is going to happen, or is even slightly likely enough to genuinely plan for or worry about (not that you're unreasonable for worrying, though), and I don't think there's any trustworthy course of action that would separate the "good" from the "bad" and reliably, fairly decide who can see it and when.

I hope this helps answer your questions :). I'm happy to talk about it more, though I don't want to devolve into arguing, so if that starts to happen (with you or anyone else), I will likely end the conversation.

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer (05) | jjk

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn't as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, crying, Sad Boy JK Hours ??, valentino!yoongi bc that should be a whole warning 🥵 even though he's there and not really there for literally 2 seconds lol

rating: PG-15

word count: 9.5k

note: this is the most stressed out i've ever been while trying to post a fic 💀 argh anyway, 2 obs updates in one month ?? is this even real life !! consider this a (lunar) new year's present from me to everyone who celebrates it and also to everyone who doesn't !! idk i'm bad at notes and i'm delirious so that's it 😗

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Hey, I feel like if we gave it one night You'd hate me less and make it alright Just wish that we could fight now I'd hold you on the comedown

Rockland - Gracie Abrams

One thing about you, is that you don’t do well with change.

After you moved out of the first apartment you got as an adult, you constantly went back to your old neighborhood even though it wasn’t close to your new place. You kept walking those familiar streets, kept shopping at the stores where the workers knew your name. At night, you still pictured yourself living there, with all of your furniture and clothes and decorations that you’ve already emptied from those old bones. Then, you imagined what the new tenant was like, if they could feel the lingering love you had for that apartment. You wondered if they were putting the coffee table you left behind to good use, or if they thought that it looked out of place among all of their belongings and had already thrown it away.

Jimin called you weird for that, but he didn’t know that you always leave a piece of yourself everywhere you go. The biggest pieces, you think, are hidden somewhere in a closet in your childhood bedroom where your mother still lives, and in the tiny space of your dorm room where you spent most of your college years.

It took you more than half a year to finally start considering your new apartment home. 

Because you hate change. Change is scary. Change is walking into a pitch-black tunnel with no flashlight, not knowing what awaits you in the darkness and not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side.

That isn’t to say that change is inherently bad. You’ve experienced good changes before. Arguably, Jungkook was a good change when he went from someone you couldn’t tolerate, to the love of your life back then. You were happy with him, so blissfully happy that for a while, you forgot what it was like to experience any other emotion.

Yoongi has always been your friend. It didn’t take you two very long to become well acquainted with one another and from there, develop a good friendship. You have never thought of him as anything other than a friend. Even when he was your boss, he still felt more like a friend.

As you sit next to him in a bar too empty for your liking – but seems right for a Tuesday night – you feel a palpable shift between the two of you.

When your phone vibrates with a notification, you glance at it only to exhale annoyedly – unclear whether this frustration is directed toward yourself, or the person blowing up your mobile; maybe it’s both. That’s the nth message that Jungkook has sent you in the last couple of hours, and you don’t need to read it to know that it’s probably another iteration of the same apology. How many different ways are there to say “Hey, I’m sorry for fucking the receptionist and then having the balls to tell you that you’re the unprofessional one when you didn’t even do anything.” Apparently a lot, because the texts just keep coming.  

“Jungkook again?” Yoongi asks from beside you. Fuck. You’ve mostly been silently moping since he brought you here, too enmeshed in your own web of muddled thoughts that you forgot he’s someone you need to make amends with too. 

You give him a nod but still continue to stare at the drink in front of you, trying to disentangle your Yoongi thoughts from your Jungkook ones. 

Taking a sip of your drink, your face manages to keep a grimace at bay as the liquid ambushes your tastebuds. You don’t like whiskey, but you need something to hate more than yourself tonight. When you set the glass down, the alcohol sloshes around like a compact sea of your own amber-colored miseries.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “This is unfair to you. I don’t know what came over me. I just want you to know that this isn’t me responding to…” To your confession.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I have to stop you right now.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m not saying that you can’t turn me down, although I hope you don’t do that,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying that whatever you do, whether you give me a chance or reject me, I want you to decide after you’ve really thought about it, about me.”

You can’t say no to that; it’s only fair. Yoongi knows what he deserves. You haven’t looked at him in any other way, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. Didn’t you say it yourself, that maybe you should start putting yourself out there? Well, here is someone coming to you before you even have to look anywhere. You may not have expected Yoongi, but then, you didn’t expect Jungkook either.

Yoongi could be the good change you need.

Nevertheless, you want to tell him you’re sorry for the other night. It should be fairly simple, but the words have a hard time dislodging themselves from your throat.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night at dinner… and what I did…”

Yoongi props an elbow on the bar top and leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Remind me what it is that you did again?”

“Come on, I’m serious.” You are grateful that he’s trying to keep it light, though.

“I’m serious too. I seem to have forgotten.”

“Yoongi…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily. Recalling the moment makes you flush with embarrassment, bringing a splash of color to your cheeks which Yoongi always seems to enjoy.

In a quiet voice, you say, “I’m sorry for throwing salt at you…”

“You threw salt at me!” He tips his head back, laughing freely. The bartender spares you two a glance at the sudden disruption. “You shouldn’t go around throwing salt at people!”

“Stop laughing! I’m trying to apologize.” You punch his arm out of habit and for a second there, you forget that your relationship with Yoongi isn’t the same anymore. Changed forever.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jeez, why are you so violent?” He rubs the spot where you hit him, muttering under his breath something about him bruising like a peach. “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, good. But I still want you to know that if you were expecting anything from tonight…”

Yoongi ruffles your hair with a scoff. “I’m not that dense. Of course I’m not expecting anything.” When you peer at him with curious and unsure eyes, he continues, “Y/N, earlier you looked like you wanted to set the place on fire and Jungkook looked like he was about to shit himself. Tonight, I’m just a friend who’s here for you if you want to vent. We’re just two buddies having a drink, that’s all.”

He makes it sound so simple, while your brain is already going haywire.

Despite yourself, you chuckle at his words. You tell him how much you appreciate it, though you don’t really tell him anything about what happened this afternoon, just that Jungkook said some stuff that pissed you off. You can’t tell him exactly what Jungkook did to anger you without alluding to the confession for which Yoongi is letting you off the hook for now.

“Do you wanna come with me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks.

“Come with you where?”

“I have a shoot with Valentino in the morning.”

“You have a photoshoot not even 12 hours from now and you’re here drinking? Aren’t you gonna wake up puffy or something?”

“Yeah, my manager would kill me if she knows what I’m doing,” he replies casually, like his manager has a telepathic connection with him and she can sense him mocking her over a drink. When people see Agust D, they tend to only see the icy exterior that he dons. That tough, maybe even callous, image has sustained him in the entertainment industry for years. For many, Agust D seems intimidating and unapproachable. That’s how you felt when you first met him too. But after a while, you got to see Min Yoongi, and Min Yoongi is nothing if not warm and tender-hearted, even if he’s a little shit sometimes. At least, that’s what he has always been like to you. “She thinks I’m getting my beauty sleep right now.”

You lightly snort at that, telling him, “Yeah, you need it.”

When you start to yawn, Yoongi calls a driver to drop you off at your place. The ride is mostly silent, because you’re tired and because you’re not sure what to say to Yoongi in the presence of a stranger taking you home. The car pulls up to your building soon enough, and before you can step out and tell him goodnight, he offers to walk you up. He takes the elevator with you to your floor, how gallant but unnecessary. When you reach your door, you wonder whether you should invite him in for a glass of water or something. If this was a week – or even just a couple of days – earlier, you would’ve had no reason to hesitate.  He doesn’t ask if he can come in but instead takes one of your hands.

“I see you’ve been giving yourself some TLC. They’re a lot better now,” he comments, smoothing his thumb over your skin. You’ve been diligent with your hand care routine since he gave you that lotion. It feels nice, and it smells amazing. Besides, your hands were starting to hurt anyway.

Silence descends upon the two of you as you become aware of Yoongi touching you, and the weight of the answer you’ve yet to give him. He must feel you stiffen, because he lets you go and smiles.

“Relax, princess. Get some sleep, you’re the one who needs it. I said I’ll let you think about it, didn’t I? Stop stressing so much.” His index finger taps your cheek playfully, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The wink that he tacks on makes you roll your eyes. You watch Yoongi make his way to the elevator, step in and press the button for the ground floor. He maintains eye contact with you as he waits for the doors to shut, and you don’t think you’ve really noticed before how Yoongi carries himself with such confidence and poise even when he’s off-camera. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s… kind of attractive.

You can’t even fish around in your bag for your keys, you just stand there because he keeps your gaze trained on him. His eyes are alluring even under the shitty lighting of your building’s elevator. Before the lift closes, his voice carries over from the metal box to your door, and you don’t know if it’s the echo of his low timbre in the empty hallway that makes you shiver, or if it’s just Yoongi.

“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?”

One week. This is a record for you and Taehyung.

You’re still baffled by his attitude that night, and no one has cleared anything up for you. He was right, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You stand by your initial reaction. Could anyone really blame you for that? In your defense, who the fuck could believe that a worldclass megastar has romantic feelings for them? Not to mention that the person whom the megastar in question has feelings for is you! You, the pathetic girl who can’t seem to get over her ex. Yoongi had to sit through a whole hour of you drunkenly crying over Jungkook, for fuck’s sake!

That really wasn’t your best moment, but it’s not like you even remember it anyway.

Your phone buzzes to life with Jimin’s face taking over the whole screen – a photo of your hand squishing his full cheeks until his lips jut out. “Hey Minnie,” you greet him once you’ve swiped to accept the call.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Where are you? Are you doing pull-ups again? You know you practically hyperventilate when you do more than 3.”

“Shut up, I’m at dance practice. But listen, have you talked to Tae yet?”

You purse your lips at the mention of his name. “No. We’re supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow like we always do, but I guess that won’t be happening.”

Jimin hums, like he’s in thought. He doesn’t speak again until his breathing has calmed. “Well, can you go to his place right now?”

“Why?”

“He’s sick and I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t answered my messages.”

You frown. “Tae’s sick?”

“Yeah, he must’ve caught a cold the other day. Could you go over there and check on him? I would go but I can’t leave for another few hours.”

You agree to go, because of course you would. Even if you’re stubborn and hot-headed, no amount of pettiness could make you ignore your friends especially when they’re unwell and need somebody. Especially when it’s Taehyung who’s been there for you so many times.

You stay on the call with Jimin for another ten whole minutes even after you have said you would go, because he keeps droning on and on about how shitty Taehyung looked yesterday.

Before you go to your best friend’s apartment, you stop by your regular diner to pick up some comfort food for him, and the pharmacy for some medicine. During the rest of the drive there, you start getting a little worried. When Taehyung takes care of a sick you or Jimin, he practically goes into full mama bear mode, making sure that you’re as comfortable as humanly possible and not leaving your side until you’re a functional human being again. But when it comes to his own wellbeing, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be that concerned. It’s not that he neglects his health, but you wish that he would show himself the same kindness that he shows you.

It feels weird to use the spare key that you have to his place, considering that you aren’t really on speaking terms. In hindsight, it feels so childish. How old are you to still be pulling the silent treatment on each other? 

You ring the doorbell and wait a couple minutes until you hear Taehyung shuffling to get the door from the other side. When it swings open, he tenses up a bit, not expecting to see you at all. His hair is damp; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Taehyung doesn’t look as bad as Jimin described though. Just some dark circles under his eyes.

You raise a hand and wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he parrots somewhat awkwardly. It’s understandable; neither of you thought you’d be the one to break the ice. “What are you doing here?”

Bringing your other hand up, you show him the bag you’re holding. “Brought you soup and cold meds. Jimin said you’re sick.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Thanks…” he says slowly, “but I’m not sick?”

“But Jimin said you caught a cold and you’ve been wheezing like a dying fisherman and–” You purse your lips, catching onto what’s really happening here. “He tricked me, didn’t he?”

Park Jimin…

Taehyung tuts under his breath, shaking his head at the ground. “Mhmm.”

“He could go into acting. He sounded really worried on the phone, like you were on the verge of death.”

“No, yeah, he really could,” Taehyung agrees. “Jimin is bizarrely good at lying sometimes. We should be worried about that.”

You laugh, and that makes him feel like the air is relaxed enough for him to laugh too. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re left staring at each other again. You hate it. You really, really hate it.

You thought that the universe sent you a sign, gave you a reason to come over and make nice with your best friend. Turns out that “the universe” is really just Park Jimin and his scheming tongue. But you’re already here, and you have to talk to him eventually. Jimin might have lied, but you would’ve just waited for Taehyung to reach out first to offer an olive branch anyway.

“Well, can I come in?” you ask. It’s weird that you even have to ask.

“Of course,” he says absentmindedly, stepping to one side to let you in. He takes the bag from your hand and brings it to the kitchen while you kick off your shoes and change into the pair of fuzzy bear slippers that he keeps for you here.

You want to tell him what happened as much as you hate admitting that you were wrong.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, a sad attempt at delaying what will inevitably come.

“No,” comes his simple reply.

“Should we eat? I bought enough for two people.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup.”

Taehyung looks at you like the thought has genuinely never crossed his mind. “Interesting… Okay, then.”

You put on an episode of your favorite show while he heats up the food. When you both sit down to eat, it’s mostly silent while the TV continues to play. The most you and Taehyung thing that you exchange in these 30 minutes is him saying soup tastes like shit when you’re not actually sick, and you telling him to stop being such a hater. When you both finish, Taehyung rinses the bowls and puts them in his dishwasher. 

Before you came over, you thought you would only be making him eat, take his meds, and sit there for a bit while he sleeps. If you had known this would happen, you would’ve prepared yourself for it.

But then again, you were tricked into coming.

Ugh. Just do it. You are so freaking dramatic.

“Well,” you start, keeping your voice light and trying not to stand around like you’re out of place in his apartment, “you were right.”

“About what?” Taehyung asks, wiping his hands on a towel. 

“About Yoongi and… all that.”

“Oh.” His expression is one you aren’t too familiar with. There’s surprise – yes, that you’re making peace with him – in the way his brows slightly lift, but there’s something else too. Something odd that you can’t quite put a finger on, and it makes you slightly uneasy because you don’t like it when you can’t read Taehyung. 

He’s pretty quick to mask it, and it makes you even more conscious that there’s something he isn’t telling you. Of course, this feeling is miniscule, practically a seed compared to the blooming garden of nerves that the events of these past few days have dumped upon you, so you can’t categorize it as a high-level priority to nitpick. You need to deal with your main concerns first, aka what to do about Yoongi and Jungkook, both individually and together, and then you can begin to inspect what’s going on with Taehyung.

It all sounds so easy in theory.

Taehyung goes to the couch and you wordlessly follow. You sit down when he pats the spot next to him – your spot. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. “You know I don’t get to hear you tell me I’m right very often.”

Because you aren’t right very often, is what you almost say. It’s light and playful, and you both know it would diffuse the leftover tension, but you chuck the words aside in favor of something more serious. There isn’t that much to catch him up on, but there is a lot to unpack from the few things that did transpire over the last few days.

You give him a recap of what happened with Yoongi and subsequently what happened with Jungkook. Those are the two things weighing the most on your mind. You haven’t really processed anything; blame it on Yoongi for telling you that you have time to think things through.

One thing you love about Taehyung is that he doesn’t tell you what to do, but rather helps you sort things out on your own. Come to think of it, these conversations often take place on his couch. He’s like your own personal therapist at this point.

“Can you give me a hug?” You probably can’t ask a licensed therapist to do this, though.

He softens even more with a smile. Opening his arms, he says, “C’mere.”

You shuffle over to sink into his embrace. You sigh as you practically melt in his hold. Taehyung is a little bony, but hugging him feels exactly like hugging a giant teddy bear. He’s soft, and always knows how to hold you just tight enough, how to stroke your hair the way you like, how to be just the comforting presence you need amidst a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. And he smells like jasmine, though that might be because you keep deliberately gifting him colognes with scents that you like.

With your chin perched on his shoulder, you feel yourself start to relax, walls coming down if only briefly.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks after a moment.

You’re suddenly aware that you’re crying. You don’t know how it started, but now that the waterworks have begun, it seems like there’s no stopping. “No,” you sniffle. “Can I just…”

You feel him exhale. “Of course.”

Taehyung is one of the few people – oh who are you kidding? He might be the only one – whom you feel comfortable enough around to let yourself cry to your heart’s content. 

You’ve been feeling it for days now, even before all that shit happened. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

When it rains, it pours.

Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.

You miss clarity, or the illusion that you have any control over your life. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.

Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all. 

Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so allconsuming that I can hardly see you underneath it?

It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.

But nobody does. They walk past you every day. They sit with you, smile at you and laugh with you. They leave you. They stay. They break your heart. Even when they love you, nobody sees you.

You love Taehyung, but you don’t think he understands. He knows you better than almost everyone in this world and he tries to help you in any way he can, but at the end of the day, maybe this isn’t something that a person can understand even if they want to. It’s worse, to realize that perhaps it isn’t because people don’t care enough to see it, but that no matter how hard they try, they can’t.

The only person who has ever come the closest is Jungkook, with his big doe eyes that always see through you and see into you. Sometimes, you think there might be parts of you that he could see but you still don’t. He knew things about yourself that you never want anybody to find out, and he loved you anyway. He went the lengths that nobody ever did because they all gave up after a while. Someone once told you that you felt like a fortress wall impossible to climb, that nobody had the time, the patience to wait for you. In other words, you weren’t worth it. Not worthless, just not worth the effort it would take to break down your walls.

But Jungkook showed up and tried, every day. The one person that you never saw coming. You might have resisted at first, but then you became his biggest supporter. You were rooting for him to know you, how fucked up is that? You were right there. He was so close.

And then he stopped.

You suppose that’s what makes everything awful now – to know that you should let go of him when he’s the only person who ever came that close.

You don’t know how long Taehyung has had to sit here, comforting you like this, but at one point, your stomach starts growling and you feel your best friend trying to hold back a giggle. Jungkook might have mastered the art of loving you, but Taehyung is an expert at comforting you.

“Shut up.” You wipe away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand and push Taehyung off. “Crying makes me hungry.”

“Should I order us fried chicken then?”

“And soju. Get some soju too.”

Jimin is a strategic trickster. There was no dance practice. He just ran around his apartment ten times until his breathing turned ragged, which if you ask anyone, was completely unnecessary. He’s very extra, but at least it was effective.

After he got off the phone with you, Jimin immediately went to your shared phone tracker app – today was one of those times where it proves to be the most useful. He stared at the little circle with a silly photo of you as it moved from your address to Taehyung’s with a couple pit stops along the way. Jimin giggled to himself when he saw your circle meet Taehyung’s, because at that point you two must have realized already that you’d been swindled. Of course, there was always a chance of you leaving the moment you figured out you had come all that way for no reason at all, but when Jimin saw after a couple of hours that the two circles are still next to each other, he knew that you and Taehyung made up already.

Jimin sends a message to your group chat, a simple hello but Taehyung knows what he’s trying to get at. The text thread shared by the three of you lights up with a selfie of you and Taehyung each holding a chicken drumstick and wearing a content smile. In the background, there are some soju bottles, a box of chicken and some fries.

Jimin doesn’t question why your eyes look a little puffier than usual. He just replies with a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. The triumph of his mini victory almost makes him forget that there’s someone else in his home.

Jungkook peeks over Jimin’s shoulder to peek at his phone, curious to see what’s making his friend so delighted. When he sees you and Taehyung on Jimin’s screen, he sinks again, heart sitting in the pit of his stomach. The words you told him just the day before ring loud in his ears, as if they haven’t been stuck on his mind, playing on a loop. 

You’re such a fucking hypocrite.

You weren’t wrong, but man, did that feel like a punch in the gut.

He goes to sit across from Jimin, taking note of every single sound that notifies his friend of a new message. For the first time, he feels like an outsider, like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“I fucked up,” Jungkook admits quietly, cracking open a can of beer and taking a long sip. It makes Jimin look up and put away his phone. “With Y/N,” Jungkook clarifies.

“Yeah, I’ve been informed. That was the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while.”

“In a while? When was the last time I did something stupid?”

Jimin doesn’t even have to think about it. He answers right away, “When you left her.”

Jungkook hums, unclear whether the noise is meant in agreement or just in acknowledgment. His tongue darts out to swipe across his dry lips before he breathes out. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“From what I’ve been told, you were a fucking asshole,” Jimin says lightly, his words emphasized with a chuckle like he finds Jungkook’s predicament so funny. “I can’t believe you would say that shit about Yoongi to her right after he confessed.”

Cue a pregnant pause, and a pair of doe eyes staring right into Jimin’s skull, unable to decipher if what he’s hearing is a joke or not.

“Yoongi– what?”

Jimin slaps himself internally. Shit. It slipped, he swears. “Nothing,” he sighs, but he knows it wouldn’t be dropped so easily.

“No. Not nothing,” Jungkook sits up straight and puts his chilled beer down on the table, missing the coaster entirely just to piss off his friend. “The fuck do you mean Yoongi confessed? Confessed what?”

Jimin sighs with pursed lips. “What else? What do you think he confessed to?”

Jungkook gulps, and blinks a few times. When? Why? Was that the reason you looked so distraught yesterday before all that shit went down between you and him? Who confesses to someone in a freaking break room?

Then Jungkook remembers that you and Yoongi went out for drinks last night. What did he say? What did you say? His stomach churns at the thought of something… happening between the two of you.

Jimin takes in his friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Why are you shocked?” he asks. “I thought you expected something like this. Isn’t it why you spewed all that crap about Yoongi flirting with her?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels like the guy is out to get me for some goddamn reason. I thought he was just playing with Y/N to piss me off!”

Jimin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Yoongi wouldn’t do that to her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because when they first worked together, from the things that she told us, the stuff that Yoongi would do for her, Taehyung and I thought he liked her back then too,” Jimin says. “This has nothing to do with you.”

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

“Should I go over there?” Jungkook asks, a newfound sense of urgency in his voice that borderlines panic. He’s acting like this fact that Jimin just dumped upon him is unraveling just as this conversation is taking place, but in reality, he’s one of the last people to know. 

“And tell her what? If you’ve said sorry a million times and she hasn’t responded, then saying it one more time won’t change anything.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see her tomorrow?”

“Nothing? Are you incapable of leaving things alone? If she wants to ignore you, let her ignore you. If she wants to yell at you, let her yell at you. If she wants nothing to do with you, let her do that too. Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”

Jungkook runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “So your solution is for me to just let her hate me?”

Jimin levels him with a look, which just annoys him even more. “You had no problem with that before.”

“If you’re not gonna help me, should I ask Taehyung then?”

“Don’t go to Tae about this.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t,” Jimin snaps, and it makes Jungkook falter for a few seconds before the petulance in him clouds his better judgment.

“Why? He’s her best friend. They’re practically joined at the hip. He’s gotta be able to help me with this.”

“You really want to go to Taehyung for advice on how to suck up to your ex-girlfriend? He’s the most protective of her. What makes you think he would be willing to help you?”

“He’s my friend too, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he want to help all of us be civil with each other?”

“Yeah, he’s your friend. I’m your friend and Y/N’s too. And you’re right, all of us should get along, but we shouldn’t be put in a situation where we’d have to try. You did that to us and nothing is going to be the same again. I don’t even know why you did it. You kept your mouth shut for years no matter how hard me and Taehyung tried to get it out of you. Now you suddenly can’t make peace with the consequences of your actions? Now you want us to help you win over the person you fucked over, who is also our closest friend? I don’t get you, JK. I’m starting to regret not letting Taehyung punch you back then.”

Jungkook stares at his friend. Is this shock that he’s feeling? He still remembers that night, because he doesn’t forget a lot of things. He can’t forget it. He had never seen Taehyung – who is usually so calm and cordial – get that angry before. His friend, who is a saint of a man, felt so much rage toward Jungkook that Jimin had to physically hold him back.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks. “You’re not used to me not being on your side all the time?”

He knows that. The only person who seems to be on Jungkook’s side is himself, and sometimes he isn’t sure if this is even true at all. What you told him at the dance studio’s opening party, what Jimin is telling him now, and even the things that Taehyung shouted at him a couple of years back – it’s all true. He knows these things already, but it feels different to hear them from other people. You’re all right; nobody is overreacting. To an outsider, it might come across as harsh, but to anyone who knows anything, it’s rightfully deserved.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admits quietly, “Actually, yeah.”

Jimin sighs, because he knows that his friend has no malicious intent toward you or toward anyone. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t mean to hurt you, any more than he already has. Jungkook is even more crazed now that Yoongi is somehow a factor in all of this. It’s the insecurities bubbling at the surface. He’s panicking and he can’t even see straight. This is just his own stupid take on fight or flight. It was flight for a while, and now apparently it’s not. Jimin doesn’t really understand it, but he gets that this is his friend’s way of dealing with shit. “I tried, man. I did. But it’s really, really hard to have your back on this.”

Jungkook is well aware of it too – that to leave you alone is probably the best thing he can do at this point. Everything he says or does seems to backfire; instead of pulling you closer, all he manages to do is push you further away and make you hate him more than you already do. 

But in a way, isn’t that a good thing? Better to have you hate him than be indifferent toward him. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate. You yourself blurred this line long ago. You can do it again, can’t you?

Jungkook sits there for a while longer to finish his beer, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear what Jimin’s stance on this is, and no matter what he says, it’s unlikely that anyone will help him try and get back in your good graces. 

Before he leaves, Jimin says something that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fucking cry and kick something and speed over to your apartment just so you could reassure Jungkook that he’s still the one you hate the most. That all of your feelings, whether they’re good or bad, are still reserved for him and only him.

It isn’t what his best friend should tell him, but it’s what a good friend would say. It's not about Jungkook, it's not about Jimin or Taehyung or anyone else. It's about you, who has been hurt the most here.

“If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too.”

[10:48] Yoongi: Attachment: 2 Images.

[10:49] Yoongi: got yelled at for showing up puffy yesterday

You tap on the notifications and the photos pop up within seconds. It’s Yoongi at his Valentino shoot probably. He never used to send you stuff like this, nor asked you to come watch him at his photoshoots. Why would he? 

You zoom in on his face to inspect if he really was puffy, but you can’t really tell. Maybe if you were a makeup artist with a sharper eye, you would see it. But under your regular-person gaze, everything seemed fine. Yoongi looked handsome in the pictures.

[10:55] You: you don’t look puffy to me

[10:57] Yoongi: so how do i look to you? ;)

[10:58] You: the fits look good

[11:01] Yoongi: i wasn’t asking about the fits

[11:05] You: and i’m telling you the fits look good anyway

[11:07] Yoongi: what about the model?

[11:10] You: are you fishing for compliments?

[11:11] Yoongi: what if i am?

[11:14] You: the model looks Not Puffy

[11:16] Yoongi: you’re no fun ;(

You consider your next reply for a moment. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal. You want to send it. It seems innocent enough, and it’s the truth. A simple praise can’t hurt, right?

Your fingertips tingle just typing the words out. You’re suddenly so jittery for some reason as your thumb hovers over the arrow symbol that would whoosh away your message. It's a good kind of jittery. You might even say that you’re excited.

[11:22] You: the model looks good too

You put your phone face-down on the table, not even checking when it vibrates with Yoongi’s response to your latest text. It’s so weird that you’re feeling like this, maybe because it’s been so long since someone has shown an actual interest in you? Or is it because it’s Yoongi? If it were anyone else, would you still react the same?

It’s weird, but not necessarily weird in a bad way. You just aren’t used to it, or it’s been such a long time that you forgot what it feels like to be… wanted? You don’t think about it often but it’s true, you’ve missed the thrill of being chased.

“So… word on the street is you have a secret song.”

Seokjin’s voice makes you glance up, wondering who he could be talking to when the only people in the room beside him are you and Jungkook – whom you haven’t spoken a word to all morning despite him glancing not-so-subtly at you every two seconds. When you got here this morning, there was already a chai latte on the table with your name on it. The order was too specific for it to be Seokjin, but you didn’t say anything.

“The street?” you ponder for a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Is that what Yoongi calls himself these days? He’s been here for what? A couple weeks? And he’s already blabbed to you.”

“So it’s true?” Seokjin leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yoongi said it’s real good. Top shelf kinda stuff. And you know he never says things like that.”

It’s not a song, or at least that isn’t what you would call it. Maybe more like an essay composed of sentences that go together like misfit puzzle pieces. You don’t think you would ever rework it and pitch it to anyone because it’s yours and it’s personal. You would never tell anyone about it, and Yoongi wouldn’t have come to know about its existence if he hadn’t stumbled across it in your journal by accident.

“Don’t listen to Yoongi,” you say. “At this point, I feel like you should know that Yoongi tends to exaggerate sometimes.”

“He never seems to be exaggerating when it comes to you,” Seokjin muses. You almost blush, thinking about what else Yoongi could’ve told Seokjin. He doesn’t notice the split second in which your cheeks redden just the slightest, or he doesn’t mind it enough to comment. “What’s the title?”

You shrug, saying nothing.

“You can’t even tell me the title? Damn, Y/N. Are you the CIA?”

“I’m not telling you because there is no title. There’s not even a song, just something I go back to sometimes. It’s mostly just word vomit. I promise you, it’s nothing.”

“Tell that to Yoongi. He told me whoever’s gonna get that song is one hell of a lucky bastard.”

Again, what is it with the praise? You know working with Yoongi and being associated with his last album gave your career a boost, but you weren’t aware that he was talking about you with other people. Maybe he only does it with Seokjin because they’re close, but still, it makes you itch with curiosity.

“By any chance are you gonna give it to… me?” Seokjin asks, and seems to immediately hear how flawed it sounds. You stare at him blankly, trying to bite back an amused smile, and even Jungkook turns his head to look too. Seokjin’s ears turn red in an instant. “Okay, that came out kinda wrong. I’m really, really sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You continue to stare at him until his face is so flushed, you swear he’s like a tomato that’s about to burst. You can see why Yoongi likes to tease people this way. “Okay, boss,” you acquiesce with a laugh, relieving Seokjin of the fear that he genuinely offended you. “If the song ever gets to see the light of day, I’ll make sure to ask you to lend your voice.”

“Ah, so you admit it’s a song.” He grins brightly at your empty promise, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly. He goes back to his normal shade in a minute, no longer ridiculously red like a cartoon character. “What’s it about?”

You ponder his question silently, missing the way Jungkook takes this moment to glance at you. When you look up again, he’s already averting his gaze.

What is it about? That’s a question that you yourself have never really considered. It’s about everything and it’s about nothing. It’s love, it’s loss, it’s the infinite in-between. You give Seokjin an answer that won’t satisfy him, but it’s the truth.

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He tuts at you, like he was expecting the obscurity from you anyway. “You’re really not beating the CIA allegations,” he says.

You flip him the bird, which only compels him to stick out his tongue and make a face at you. Then, he diverts his attention to the person who hasn’t contributed anything this whole time.

“JK, why are you so quiet today? We’re not gonna eat you.”

Jungkook mutters something to Seokjin that you don’t quite catch because the words come out of his mouth like an inarticulate mess, which is so unlike him. He sounds jumpy, like he’s too nervous to speak in front of you. Seokjin’s eyes land on you again as he mouths a confused What?

You just shrug, and Seokjin has to take Jungkook’s weird response as him having an off day. The man checks his phone, lets out a quiet whine, then addresses the both of you. “I have a shoot this afternoon so you two will have to hold down the fort, by the way.”

You come back from your solo lunch date to an empty studio.

Well, almost empty. There’s something new that wasn’t there before.

Another chai latte waiting for you equates to another apology hoping to be acknowledged. The paper cup is still hot when your hand reaches out to touch it. You sink into your chair with a sigh. You could laugh at yourself for feeling so nostalgic at the sight of a beverage in the middle of a workday.

Jungkook walks in about 15 minutes later, and the air turns suffocating at his arrival. He feels it too, you know he does. 

You chew on your bottom lip until it starts to hurt, bite down on it until it almost bleeds.

“Jungkook,” you say, catching his attention. It looks like he didn’t expect you to initiate any conversation. It’s not like you want to, but you have to. You keep having to do this, because he just wouldn’t listen. “Stop buying me drinks.”

It translates to: Stop saying sorry. Stop trying to make things right. Stop doing things you think would make me happy. Stop making me have the same argument with you over and over again.

“Because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says, and proceeds to repeat the one thing that you’re sick of hearing from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you verbalize it. “If it’s not about work, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to hear it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do need to hear it. Because I can’t function properly until you know how sorry I am.”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Hear me out,” he says, sounding a little firmer now but you still catch the crack in his voice. “Please.”

Jungkook must take the way you hesitate to shut down him as reluctant permission for him to keep going, because he stands up and moves to a spot closer to you. Not close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but enough for you to see the tiny mole under his bottom lip and how it quivers when he looks at you.

Fuck. You’re letting him win again.

“Okay, fine. Talk then. I’m listening. You’re sorry, right? You keep saying you’re sorry for everything, but what exactly is everything? What are you even sorry about? Are you sorry about annoying me right now, or are you sorry about being a prick the other day, or are you sorry about leaving me five years ago? When did you become this pathetic, Jungkook?”

“W–what?”

“When did you become so pathetic?” you repeat. “If you had to come back, couldn’t you come back as someone better? Someone who’s sure of himself and has a good life, not this… person who has to grovel at my feet for forgiveness. Even when you were at your lowest, you weren’t like this. I don’t even know who this Jungkook is. What happened to you?”

If you think that you saw him at his lowest, then you’re wrong. He didn’t hit rock bottom until he’d left you and had to live with what he chose to do. 

“You’re right. I am pathetic,” Jungkook agrees, dropping his gaze to the floor like he’s ashamed. “But fuck, I’m trying to be worthy of you.”

It’s a truth that he doesn’t want to face, doesn’t want to admit how very real it is until you’ve just said it and it fucking guts him. He knows his friends pity him sometimes, even if they don’t want to view him as someone to be pitied. No matter how much of a front he puts up, he knows that Jimin and Taehyung see right through him. They won’t say it to his face, and for that Jungkook has gotten away with avoiding this fact for so long. But to hear it from you, to watch you spell it out for him, it hurts.

He wants to mention Yoongi, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t immediately aggravate you. After all, bringing up Yoongi is what got him into this mess, isn’t it?

Regardless, he wants to ask you a question that he already knows the answer to. What does Yoongi have that he doesn’t? The answer is: A lot of things. Yoongi has a lot of things that Jungkook doesn’t, one of them being the self-assurance to not run away when it comes to you and what you deserve.

He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he’s scared it might drive you right into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook can’t compete with a man like that.

He can barely keep up even with just himself in the running.

There’s a big question mark that pops up in your head, along with a slight sting in your eyes that you blink away. You’ve never seen Jungkook like this before. This whole time, was it not only you who was miserable?

He looks so small that it breaks your heart. For once, you aren’t sad for yourself but you’re sad for him. It never occurred to you that he could’ve been lonely too, having to keep all of this inside because you know he didn’t share it with anyone else. You catch a glimpse of him again, like you did when you were making ramen together in your kitchen while a storm was raging outside. In a lot of ways, Jungkook is still that kid stuck in an adult’s body, lost and scared and loved you. It feels like you could’ve seen him in the same ocean while you were just trying to keep your head above water.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and astray, placates you. Your resolve crumbles, but not like it was ever that strong to begin with. You suppose you could see why he was being a jerk to you. Even though it doesn’t justify what he said, you understand just a little bit where he was coming from. You find yourself forgiving him for some of it. It’s part of letting things go, right?

But no matter how much you want to reach out and comfort him, you know you shouldn’t. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? You’re confused and it feels like you two have been going around in a circle, looking for a solution that doesn’t seem to exist.

Coexisting doesn’t work. Telling him to leave things alone doesn’t work. What else can you do?

Why do you have to resolve a problem that isn’t even yours? Jungkook says he’s trying, but his efforts keep making your life harder and harder. You practically blew up in his face, then apologized for being harsh even though you were fully aware that you had nothing to be sorry for. You called him a hypocrite and now you’re ready to cave just because he’s on the verge of shedding a few tears. This constant back and forth between your anger and your reluctance to see that anger through is possibly the thing that’s hindering you.

You can’t – and shouldn’t – accommodate him anymore. You have to put your foot down, no matter how difficult it is with the lingering ghost of your past love.

Because you’re always weak when it comes to Jungkook.

Because you’re still holding onto something.

Because Jungkook will always be the first person that you have ever loved, and those four years meant a lot to you even if they didn’t to him. Maybe it’s even fair to say that you might never truly get over it, and that doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Maybe he was never the person you thought he was, or maybe you never meant as much to him as he did to you. Somehow, that’s okay. It’s manageable because it’s routine at this point. You’ve internalized it. The years have taught you that sometimes, things get shitty just because they can and you just have to deal with it.

The intrinsic pain of the human experience. C’est la vie.

What a world this is.

Is it bad that you’re thinking about Yoongi in a moment like this?

Yoongi could be your future, if you’d let him.

You should let him. Maybe this is your answer right here. 

“Jungkook, let’s stop.” He looks at you with crestfallen eyes, but you have to keep going. The only way out is through. “Let’s stop. You want me to listen to you, but you haven’t been listening to me. I don’t have the strength to keep this up anymore, and I have told you that repeatedly but you wouldn’t listen. Jungkook, move on.”

You pretend not to notice how his lip trembles even more. “What if I don’t want to move on?”

This feels like a conversation that should’ve happened ages ago. Five years ago, you should’ve screamed at him, cried with him, held each other as you both fell apart. He stripped you of that right and gave you no say at all.

“You’re being awfully selfish,” you tell him, but in your head, you’re already thinking about what his words actually mean. 

“Have you completely written me off then? Is there nothing at all that I can do? Because I would do anything if you asked. You know that.”

Your throat is so dry that it feels like you’re swallowing sand. You dig everything back up again until you find the memory of that day hidden at the very bottom.

It’s terrible. He’s making you relive it again.

“I remember calling for you and you didn’t even look back,” you say, but your voice breaks toward the end. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

Jungkook just stares at you then, and for the longest time, neither of you say anything. This is the first time that you two have addressed the problem, properly addressed it instead of half-heartedly sweeping it under the rug like you tried to do. 

You breathe in, he breathes out. You hate the way you feel, and you resent the way he looks like he’s breaking down just as badly. There are tears in those eyes, tears that Jungkook doesn’t let spill because he defiantly wipes them away with the back of his hand after a moment. 

When he speaks next, you want the world to end.

“Then I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted january 21, 2023]

[theyluvlyss]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝🙂...

1. tonight, I went to go see the black phone in theaters again (one time showing only typa deal, at least where I live, for those curious ig lol) and y'know,,, I've always known this one thing about myself, which is that my brain LOVES the theater. she loves going, she loves the loudness, the atmosphere, she loves it all, even if (clearly) she's seen the movie already. because of this silly little fact, and because I went to go see this silly little movie tonight, as I lay in the comforts of my warm bed and drink my dr.pep and eat my vanilla ice cream...

my brain all the while had apparently been working overtime behind my back. just as my head hit the pillow, she practically punched me in the throat with a fic idea that I just can't pass up. but I fear I have trouble committing, so I cannot promise it'll even come into fruition, let alone get finished. but on the off chance it does and I do... I will leave anyone reading right now with these...

north denver, 1982 (or 3, idk)...

reader is new to town, dresses like a freak, and absolutely does witchy spiritual stuff...

ghost boys reach out to the reader...

something with finney and gwen, the grabber, idk maybe max, too, add in a bit of angst, love, hurt, comfort, allat junk *inahles*...

😃✋🏼it's all a jumbled kerfuffle of thoughts from there, and I'd lowkey like it to be a full blown, multiple part/series/chapter FIC fr, yk? IDKIDK but I see a vision and...yeah. do y'all see the vision?

...am I crazy😀?

moving on😌☝🏽...

2. sooner or later (hopefully sooner, though) I will be binging/rewatching life is strange 1 and 2 playthroughs, which will then allow me to add a masterlist for some of the characters I've been wanting to write about for a very long time now, which means requests for those characters will be open once I do (not yet, though lol) :D!!

I've done my fair share of fic reading back when wattpad was my main app, and while they were good for the time, lord knows I haven't touched that app in years and I'm NOT going back. but, unfortunately, there's not a lot of fics on here to read (my heart shattered into pieces when I looked up sean diaz's name and there was basically nothing😔💔) and I don't like fooling around with other fic sites, so, as usual, I must be the one to fill the void left both on this app and in my heart.

you're welcome🤭✨️ (kidding, ish-).

anyways, that's about it for now (other than the 80+ requests I'm working on currently), thanks for reading whatever this is you wanna call it, byeeeee /ᐠ-з-マ/.

[hood-ex]

Finished JJK S2. Many thoughts below.

I'm kinda "hmm" over the parallels in personalities between the Yuji/Megumi/Nobara team and the Satoru/Suguru/Shoko team. Yuji and Gojo as the powerhouses with loud mouths. Megumi and Suguru as the quieter members. Nobara and Shoko as the boisterous don't take shit ones. Like idk I guess I'm just worried about Megumi in this equation and hoping he doesn't pull a Sasuke (or duh Suguru lmao) at some point.

Speaking of Megumi, he was only really involved in about 3 fights total. I missed him in the bigger showdowns with the others. On the other hand, I'm really glad Nobara got to step in and deal some actual damage to Mahito. Like I said before, fuck Mahito, all my homies hate Mahito. I mean, seriously, it felt like Yuji was getting nowhere with Mahito, so when Nobara got that hit in, I was cheering, I was hooting. I was painting "Nobara" on the back of my shirt. What an awesome moment for her.

Sorry I watched basically the entire series today so my brain is burning, my memories feel like soup rn, I'm going out of order when talking about events. Uhhh... oh I'm glad Jogo and Hanami died. I was sick of them. The difference in the fight between Jogo and Sukuna vs. Sukuna and Megumi's thingy. His... what was it called again? Eh whatever you know what I'm talking about. The pact (?) monster Megumi called forth before he went unconscious. The difference in those fights was super interesting. With Jogo, Sukuna was just having fun and not worried at all. With Megumi's thingy, Sukuna actually had to strategize a bit and such. No wonder he has a fascination with Megumi.

Too bad Sukuna killed those sisters but honestly not surprised. I did like how those sisters revived Yuji/Sukuna.

Oh?? And Choso dude?? The sibling reveal?? You have nooo idea how much I didn't want Choso to get killed off at the very end. I was hoping, I was praying, I was like absolutely not, now that I know he's Yuji's older brother, he cannot die. Ever. Everrr. Bc you know me and my thing about siblings. Love em. I was laughing when Choso was telling Yuji to call him older brother, and Yuji was like dude whaaat lmao. Like shhh, Yuji, shhh. Just accept it. You have two brothers now. Aoi and Choso. Lolol.

Speaking of Aoi, I had a moment where I was like, okay, I can get over Nanami's death because he had accepted his death, he was tired, he was ready to go, but I CANNOT accept Aoi's death. Even the thought of him dying made me start to tear up. He's definitely one of my favorite characters now, which is funny, bc I thought he was just annoying in his first appearance. But the fact that he has Yuji and Takada in his locket?? LMAOOO THIS MAN IS SO UNSERIOUS PLS. Sucks he lost a hand, but I'd rather him lose a limb than lose a life. (Fuck me, he's gonna die at some point isn't he? I will literally sob. I'm not kidding, I will sob when/if that happens.)

Oh yeah and Nanami fucks forever and always. He was so hot for wrapping his tie around his hand like that. Ugh. Love him. Gonna miss him. Hope someone reclaims his weapon. I actually didn't cry over him bc, like I said, he was just... ready to go. He was too tired to go on. I could accept that.

Bro did Maki die?? I mean surely if Nanami survived then maybe she did as well...? I hope she didn't die. I liked her.

Owww my brain hurts, I need to get my thoughts out faster. Uhh... ohhh. Oh. When Yuji witnessed Nanami's death on top of Nobara's death (not convinced she's 100% dead though bc of the medic boy being like idk she was dead but maybe she won't be bc of my healing) and on top of seeing what Sukuna had done to Shibuya... holy fuck... talk about a lot of trauma in a short time. Dude when he just gave up after Nobara's death... and he curled up and cried when Aoi appeared... that hurt me. That made me feel like I was in the stadium of the first Pokemon movie watching all the Pokemon cry over Ash's stone body. It felt like that moment. That sadness and grief just overwhelming. Damn. What a good moment though.

I haven't even talked about Satoru yet. Woooow... the way he demolished all those curses at the train station in such a short time... crazy. Sucks he's trapped in a box. Like idk what else to say lmao. Free my man Satoru.

Omg omg omg can I talk about how two of my favorite moments of the whole series ended up in this season?? So the scene where Nobara talked to that girl from Yuji's high school who had a crush on him, and she called Megumi to come meet them, and then Yuji appeared later. Ahhh!! Squee!!! Megumi was sooo cute! And he was super cute in my other fav flashback scene where Nobara spilled coffee or whatever on Satoru's shirt, and Megumi stuffed the shirt under his own shirt to hide it from Satoru. Like lmao he gave himself boobies. PLS HE'S SO CUTE. MY LIL BEANIE BABY. See, this is why I can't have this man go all Sasuke. I need him to stay on the team for cute moments like that.

And speaking of cute Megumi things, I thought it was so cute when he was planning to die, and he replayed the last words he and Yuji said to each other. Something about them like staying safe/meeting up later or whatever. And he was like sorry I broke my word, Yuji. Something akin to that. :3

Holy moly some of the dialogue goes on for way too long during fight scenes and such. Like I know they have to explain all the techniques and details of curses and such, but it makes the fight scenes seem so much longer, and I'm like goddd please just shut up and fight (I'm literally not retaining any of the info they're saying anyway asldkja)!! Also, some of the fight scenes, even without a ton of dialogue, were just ridiculously long. Like did we really need 3-4 episodes of one fight between Yuji and Mahito?? I was like somebody new please come in and kill Mahito ASAP.

LOL the way that I was like "FINALLY, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME?" when Yuta finally arrived at the end, only to be like boooooo when he said he was gonna kill Yuji. Like nooo you two are supposed to be friends, okay. Be friends. Amigos. Pals. Fight side-by-side. Nah but surely Yuta will come around and fight alongside Yuji, right... right...

Wow yeah lots and lots of deaths this season. And now Megumi's sister is awake so okaaay...

Also, that Megumi dad dude was awesome as hell. He was freaking insaaane. I didn't care that he was kicking everyone's ass, I was just like let's goooo!

So anyway if any of y'all are reading the manga, please lemme know if Yuji and Choso retain a stronger bond of sorts or if that doesn't happen at all. Or if Choso straight up dies and they never get the chance for any kind of "hey that scar brain dude helped birth us so we're brothers" talk.

!!! I almost forgot!!! Why was Megumi holding Yuji's hood like this lmao. It was cute. And just. the big pile of bunnies.

[soulacheron]

𝐋𝐨 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐨 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Mini introduction for this was here

I decided to make this little series with Santino and Acheron. I'll explain Acheron more, so everything makes more sense. Idk how many chapters this will have, but I think it'll be long ongoing. The series's name is "Lo Spettro"

Hope yall will like this little chapter :)

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Santino stared at the wolf figure in front of him. It called him "Master" but why was it a wolf?

"What... so you are the demon? I thought you'd have a human form?" Santino asked, staring in confusion at the wolf. "I take a form of an animal or human that is special to my new Master. You find wolves interesting... and it was easier for me to take a wolf form. Everyone human in your life isn't very close to you."

Okay, a literal demon wolf was telling him that no one in his life is close to him. How much lower can he fall?

Santino sighed, feeling his chest with his hand. Surely, he was shot there and at his lower abdomen. That's why he was bleeding out so fast and was near death.

Where are those wounds now?

He looked down, his suit was still messy from the blood, and there were the bullet holes. However, no wounds?

"You... what did you do to me?" Santino asked and looked up at the creature, feeling his lips and chin with his fingers and seeing that they were covered in blood. Yeah, he did coughed out blood, he remembers that.

"I healed you. You became my Master, so I have to protect you." The wolf said, sitting and waiting patiently. "The pain that I felt... what was that?" He asked. He had so many questions. "I took your soul and, therefore, saved you. I forgot to mention that can be painful. I'm sorry it hurt." The wolf bowed its head in respect.

Santino nodded, taking in a deep breath and exhaling since the disgusting taste of blood in his mouth made him feel nauseous and dizzy. "I um... fuck, I taste blood..." Santino muttered, trying to stand up and, surprisingly to him, the wolf nudged its head so he can support himself against him.

He got up with a wince, but otherwise he was feeling okay. Better than before that's for sure.

"Thank you." Santino said quietly to the creature. "Always, Master." It spoke. "Do you have a name?" Santino asked, fixing his messy suit and tie. "No. I'd be honored if you gave me a name, Master." Wolf said, again sitting calmly in front of him. Santino looked at him and nodded. "I'll see what I can think of when we get home." He paused, "Now... how will I explain that I summoned a demon who is actually a wolf?" He asked himself, but wolf decided to try and help.

"You could simply start with why you decided to do it in the first place-" That he was so desperate for success that he sold he soul? Absolutely not. "No, no, no... I'm not saying that. I... cazzo.." he sighed, pinching his eyes. "I'll figure something out." He always does. He just... needs some more time right now.

"I actually nearly died." He whispered to himself, looking at the blood puddle. "The things I do for these people... for my fucking status." He hates that he got himself in that situation. Almost dying for what? For something that wasn't supposed to happen. And he got shot. He wasn't supposed to get shot. Damn, everything didn't go as planned.

"You'll still need rest, Master. I did healed you but you'll still feel fatigue." Wolf said.

Now, when he mentioned it, he felt tired, like his body was exhausted. "Yeah... I can feel it." Santino said, pulling out his phone. "Do you know where everyone else is?" He asked, looking around, but it was so quiet.

"I believe they left." Wolf said calmly.

Huh? They wouldn't leave his boss. No. Not Ares. They're like a team. Right? This doesn't make sense.

Santino tensed up a little thinking about this. 'They wouldn't do that.' He said in his mind. "Are you alright, Master?" Wolf asked. Santino snapped back from his thoughts and looked over at the wolf. "Yes. I'll just call them. But you..." he paused, "Can you make yourself kind of disappear? When we're home, I'll explain who you are." Santino just needed some more time to figure this all out.

"Of course. I'll do as you say, Master." Wolf said and bowed his head again. "You don't have to call me Master every single time." Santino said, sighing. "How would you like me to call you then?" Wolf asked, titling his head a little. "Um... I'm not sure yet." He replied.

"Santino? Mr. D'Antonio? Boss?" Wolf suggested. Well, coming from a demon wolf, it sounded a little weird to him. "Let's just stay on Master for now." Yeah, maybe that's better.

"Whatever you say, Master."

Santino made a phone call, talking in Italian to one of his bodyguards. Also cursing at whoever was on the other side of the line. Wolf waited patiently, waiting for more commands.

"They'll be here soon. So, when we get home, I can try and introduce you." Santino said, putting his phone back into his pocket. "Understood. I'm looking forward to our partnership and for a new name." Wolf said and wagged his tail a little.

Santino huffed a chuckle, thinking if he had actually lost his mind and none of this was real. He is talking to a fucking demon wolf who is wagging his tail now.

"Yeah. It'll be one hell of a partnership."

[dicenote]

for the ask game: 4, 10 and 11 for matsulight?

eeee omg omg matsulight!! tysm for this ask!

4. What they do on date night

Often, they play it by ear, especially when Matsuda's taking the lead. You know that one bit of the anime/manga where Light goes to Aoyama with Matsuda to look for the 2nd Kira? I'd like to think that their date nights are kinda like that (minus the part where Light's friends are there and they pretend to be cousins, obviously). Nothing planned, just them and the city lights.

On occasion, Matsuda and Light actually do make plans, though. Matsuda's are still pretty spontaneous ("Oh Light! I heard about a neat event going on tonight! Wanna go?"), while Light's plans are thought out ahead of time. Regardless of how planned out they are, their dates almost always involve going out and doing something together.

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other

They watch a lot of mystery shows together. Sometimes the "mysteries" are goofier stories to distract them from the hell that is the Kira investigations. Often, though, they'll have fun by watching more of a thriller mystery and seeing how early they (Light, usually) can predict the ending. Matsuda will pause the show every few minutes just so he and Light can talk about what's going on in the story (He loves hearing Light talk). It takes them nearly an hour to get through a 30 minute episode because of this.

For Matsuda, I think my answer is the same as in the Lawtsuda ask. He loves kid shows with happy endings. I think that he'd make more of an effort to hide it from Light, though, as Light seems like he'd be more confused about why Matsuda likes those kinds of shows.

Light likes his fair share of horror, but he hides the scary flicks from Matsuda because he knows Matsuda doesn't like them. While he's not an artist by any means, Light really appreciates the artistry of horror shows. What makes them scary- is it the excessive fake blood, the jump-scares, the shaky cameras? What does it take to instill true horror? ...Meanwhile, Matsuda's crying because the character he picked out as his favorite died a few minutes in. So they don't watch horror together anymore.

11. What their first impression was of each other

I hc that they first met when they were much younger. Maybe like, when Light was 5 and Matsuda was 13, or so. I like the headcanon (or maybe it's canon in one of the movies? idk) that Matsuda's and Light's families were friends before the series begins. Because they're a lot younger, I feel like their first impressions were pretty one-dimensional, if that makes sense. Light thought Matsuda was a bit loud and kind of annoying, and Matsuda thought Light was really smart for his age. They probably kind of just... existed around each other for a little while, not fully knowing what to make of the other. Eventually they talked more, but that first impression kind of remained for a while- Light was more dismissive of Matsuda, while Matsuda was always awed by Light.

[bonefall]

So way back in the day on the original Warriors website, there was an area where you could submit questions about the series that the Erin's would answer and then post the question and answers on a FAQ page. Someone asked about prefixes that the Clans don't use because they're considered sacred, and the answer had been iterations of Moon-, Star-, or the Clan names themselves, so Sky-, Shadow-, etc.

Obviously this isn't true for canon anymore, if it ever actually was (citing here: lack of continuity between the Erins) but I'm curious to know if your AU has any prefixes that the Clan's absolutely refuse to use for one reason or another? Whether they be sacred or maybe they're considered "cursed", like perhaps a particularly evil cat has tarnished the prefix forever. (Such as the lack of Maple- prefixes in canon books post-Mapleshade! Maybe not intentional, but a cool world-building detail nonetheless!)

Stemming from that, do you think any prefixes would/could be turned into insults/curses later on down the line? Basically, what's the culture like for names? My favorite part of Warriors has always been the names, and the Erin's had such a nice thing going until it was tossed out the window. The system you use with Clanmew and all is super neat and I'd love to know more about Clan naming traditions! Also how each leader names cats - idk if it was you or someone else that I follow, but I saw a post talking about how each leader has a distinct way to name their warriors.

(Also small fun fact while on the subject of names, a friend of mine submitted a question asking about who Bluestar's parents were, and the answer was Duskflower and Stormtail. This was a few years before Bluestar's Prophecy was published, so she was very upset over them changing "Duskflower" to "Moonflower" when it did finally come out!)

The Duskflower thing is actually a misconception: What happened was that in a field guide, the Erins wrote that the name was "Moonflower," and then felt that "moon" should be sacred. That's when they started using "Duskflower," until Bluestar's Prophecy came out and they agreed with the editors that the older information should take precedence

(Rare anti-retcon win)

But anyway I have no banned or sacred names! I don't like that concept! Possibly because I am from an old fandom era of 'traditional namers' that just used it as an excuse to bully people and have bad taste. Hawkfrost's name ROCKS MY SOCKS and they all died mad while I'm still here.

My rules with namings is that EVERYTHING must make sense in-universe. So I don't like lyrical naming very much... names like "Friendlyface" or "Empyreanmist" are funny, but I don't see how a kitten would end up with those names unless every cat in their Clan stopped taking their lives seriously

(Or are in WarriorClan. BB!WarriorClan renamings are going to look WILD)

That also means ecologically invalid names get cut or end up being translation quirks. Names like Cypress, Olive, Myrtle, etc.

I don't ban "insult" names either, but I do rule that they are typically ShadowClan. They have a very dark sense of humor.

And yes I am the one with leader naming styles! So far these are the styles:

Bramblestar: terrible. Doesn't consider names beforehand, often comes up with titles that are awkward or unimpressive

Harestar: Reverant and thoughtful, tries to name based on friendships, interests, and quirks.

Mistystar: Names litters according to 'themes,' often sharing suffixes or picking similar ones.

Brokenstar: Only ever gives "cool" names with deadly and strong connotations.

Firestar: Names awkwardly, but genuinely. Surprises his Clan constantly with banger names (Lionblaze) or shockingly uncomfortable ones (Brambleclaw).

Onestar: Names practically, trying to limit suffix repeats and tonguetwisters.

So on.

[neteyamyawne]

Recommendations

My favourite writers :

@persefolli : Her content is what inspired me to write my own fics lol, some of her works still have my mind and soul waiting patiently for the next part 😩✨ NSFW, minors dni !

≈ fics by persefolli (my favs):

Weak saga : Weak , Runner-up , Clash of clans , Love and wars , Afterwords

Scandal series : scandal , shameless , over , need you

Scandal series has some side fics as well so make sure to check them out as well ☺️💚 there are many fluff fics too so read them too 🫶🏼✨ GIRL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MY LOVE AND FAVOURITE!!!!!! 😭😭🤍

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@jakexneytiri : her NSFW works are like the first sip of coffee in the morning cuz i just can't start my day without reading her new mind bending, toe curling smutt with my coffee 😭 Minors dni!

≈ fics by jakexneytiri (my favs):

Dom!reader x Jake : this fics does things to me and totally in a good way 💚

Her 🐡anon asks are 😩🤌🏼🔞 just look them up

She has many fluff fics of neteyam and more so look them up as well 🥹

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@byunpum : Their "Experiment 56" series kept me up all night, seriously, i was up all night reading all the sequels and prequels , everything! And now the new tsu'tey x reader with the same theme as experiment 56 has me on choke hold 😩

≈ fic by byunpum : Experiment 56

Please Fucking read this series cuz it's absolutely worth it 🥹😭🤍

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@avatarbyamara : her blog is totally one of my favourites, and her tsu'tey fics are even more of my favourites, her works made me laugh, cry and almost goddamn killed my heart and that's what an amazing writer does!

≈ fics by avatarbyamara (my favs):

Series:

i wanna see mama too

You promised

One shots :

She deserves only the best

If you asked him to

One second. (this one broke me)

And these are just a few of the masterpieces i have mentioned there are many more on her blog, including Jake , teresam, and tonowari! Man do i not love her fics! 😩🤌🏼😭

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@sunandsstars : all I'm gonna say is go and read everything! Cuz i can't even pick my favourites for this one 😭😭😭 the sully's , recoms and everything is beautifully written i don't even wanna choose between them 🥹🥹

≈ fics by sunandsstars (my favs) :

Series :

Yawnetu (i can literally die for this series)

Recombinant

One shots : (there are so many of my favs idk where to start 🥲)

Markings of a warrior

His fortress

Mighty

I want to add many more but I'm limiting myself to only five 😭 but if i could I'd add all the fics fr 😭

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@loaksky : all their neteyam and lo'ak fics are my comfort reads, anytime i have a bad day or sum i run straight to those, even if I've read them like 100 times i still go back to them 😂🤍

≈ fics by loaksky (my favs):

One shots :

The heart that binds us

Like a diamond under pressure

By the grace [make no mistake]

One of us is dead

I wanna be yours

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@teyamsbitch : Omg she's literally my wife right here, I love her so much and her fics are just as good and fabulous as she, you go girl! Her fluff fics are my comfort zone, literally.

≈ fics by teyamsbitch (my favs):

One shots :

I thought I lost you

I missed you

Are you ashamed of me

First time

Their strong warrior

»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«

@teyamsatan : she's one of the sweetest people I've met and her writing is just phenomenal, i might be a total sucker for her fics (lord save me)

≈ fics by teyamsatan (my favs):

Series :

Cardigan

Monster in me

One shot :

Olo'eyktan Neteyam smut

A/n : these are some of my favourite writers on Tumblr at the moment, there are many more but I'm keeping it short, I'll probably tag them here after a while 🥹 because they need recognition as well ❤️‍🩹

© Neteyamyawne 2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[professorspork]

do you have a favorite part from this chapter? did anything come naturally to you? side note: the bees kiss was very sweet and i enjoyed how tenderly you approached the entirely thing. blake and yang literally switching positions to reflect blakes vulnerability in their dynamic was very good. so excited to see where this goes now that they know their feelings are reciprocated…if blake was trying to reign it in over a bruise idk how she’ll keep it together now

what a delightful series of questions, thank you!

"favorite" is tough for me, so instead I'll break it down in a few ways.

the parts that were the earliest kernel for the chapter were: Yang meeting the boys (particularly Sun being like "WE MET AT THE CLUB" and Blake trying to shush them), Sun pressing Blake to admit she likes Yang (the "she likes Yang so much" variations and "absotively posilutely" were in the outline from basically the very start), and the laps switching. Believe it or not, that scene (or rather, that image and the meaning behind it) was one of the earliest to come to me, and yet it wasn't until I finally described it to @alexkablob that i was like "oh, that's their first kiss isn't it." I'd earmarked it for that in-between time when they were past friendship but unwilling to admit it, but it took laying it out for someone else for me to see the obvious, which was that it had to be the moment it all changed.

I also knew I wanted a seder scene and for Blake to visit her parents, and much later the 'Four Questions' framing device came up around it as I laid everything out. things developed in stages; Blake listening to "I Hope You Dance" on the ride home came much earlier than "You Make Loving Fun," for example. the concept of "bigger milk" was one that I thought of pretty early in the process, but figuring out where it would go, who would talk about it, and how it would be utilized took some doing.

the thing that delights me most is probably the Seamonkeys backstory, because I think it's fittingly chaotic and charming. figuring out the tone and timbre of Kali's pep talk was the thing I discovered most on the page instead of pre-outlining; on the other hand, by the time I made it to the last scene I'd written so many bullet outlines and notes to myself the hardest part was sort of synthesizing all of those similar-but-not-identical versions of the conversational flow into the final product. knowing how I wanted the couch choreography to go and having reasonable excuses for them to move in the ways they did were two very different things, so shout out to Ember for being a big help there. but despite those sorts of logistical questions, I'd say pretty much all of it came naturally. I always had a firm grasp on the vibes I needed this part of the story to take, even before it solidified into what it became, and so conveying that wasn't a struggle. also I went in order, so after writing the Adam chapters it was such a joy and relief to return to this part of the timeline it poured out of me.

as for how Blake will keep it together... well. we'll just have to see if she DOES, won't we? ;)

[flyingsquirrely]

Sins of the Father

WHAT a quest!! I've already played through the Myreque questline in RS3, but I really enjoyed the OSRS take on this quest. (spoilers for the Myreque/Vampyre questline in both OSRS and RS3 below the readmore)

I think it has my favorite characterization of the Player Character out of all the OSRS quests I've played so far. Normally, PC personality ends up either very reactive (they sort of blandly respond to the situation at hand) or going to uhhh extremes (Lunar Diplomacy pirate ship scene, my beloathed), but this quest found a nice balance where the PC is perhaps a bit too jokey in the face of darkness and danger, but it feels like a purposeful response to stress by lightening the mood, rather than obnoxious as it sometimes falls in other quests. It's more like a part of their personality, rather than the devs just throwing something in because they think it's funny or want to make a reference. Subjectively, I found this character much closer to how I imagine my PC (ik ik, that's not universal, hence subjectively). Also, it fits with the other quest characters, where Safalaan has a similar sense of humor and the PC's lightheartedness helps him deal with all of the unpleasant personal realizations he goes through during the quest.

Speaking of my guy Safalaan, loved his characterization as well, and his growing friendship with the PC. The conversations they have in the lab and before the final boss while looking over the drowned ruins of (presumably) the Everlight: 👌👌. They just felt so satisfying! We get to share our fears and stuff! I felt good feels! Good characterization!

Vanescula was a queen, as always, and Ivan felt more like a Real Boy in this iteration of the questline than in the RS3 version. Loved the team banter and the wary enemy-mine relationship between the Myreque and Vanescula. I thought that the tension between Veliaf, Safalaan, and Vanescula was really well done, and how each of the minor Myreque members have their own unique opinions and reasoning about the plan and Vanescula herself.

Also, I think this is unintentionally comedic, but I love that you can go up to the Vyrewatch in full combat kit + weapons specifically meant for killing vampyres, with which you have already killed a powerful vampyre and say "Send me to the mines!" and they just think you're really weird and do it. Like, the fight with Ranis was not private, there was an entire crowd there. Zero braincells on those guys.

There isn't much player dialogue choice in it (you know, the ones where the dialogue choice doesn't do anything mechanically, but results in some branching dialogue where the NPC's dialogue reacts to the PC's personality), but I did like the one where you can choose whether or not to call Veliaf out on his callousness towards Slepe because there are a bunch of Zamorakians there. I don't play my PC as Zamorakian, but they are Guthixian and they don't hate Zamorakians by default, so it was nice to be able to play into that.

I do wish we'd gotten a little more resolution about Slepe. I know there's more stuff going on there with an underground boss and stuff that I haven't done yet, but I think it could have used a quest of its own or maybe a short/medium follow-up.

(We won't talk about the month of Slayer grinding I had to do before I could kill Vanstrom. He hurts, and I am not an experienced PvMer.)

I think my hope for the finale of this questline (idk if we'll be getting one or two more quests in this series, it could go either way honestly), is that it does a couple of things:

Lord Drakan as the final final boss. tbh I found River of Blood (RS3) to be kind of an awkward finale, because Drakan is built up to be this terrible, extremely powerful enemy, but then you kick his ass in the penultimate quest and fight... mutated Safalaan as the final boss of the questline instead. Weird. I'd also accept Vanescula as the final final boss, as long as she survives it and we get to discuss the truce afterwards. She deserves it.

Ivan coming into his own legacy and playing a key role. In RS3 he doesn't get to do much in the last few quests in the series, which was a bit anticlimactic for him.

Give Safalaan A Break, Please. I guess they can turn him into a funky hybrid again, but please let me bonk him back into human shape and then let him take a nap. (he gives me such Ichigo-from-Bleach vibes, being a human+icyene+vampyre hybrid in River of Blood)

I want the Sunspear. I really like the lore of that weapon in RS3 and also how it implies that Efaritay is/was absolutely massive compared to humans.

[quirrelfan]

what is the reason you love quirrel so much? i do know that sudden and unexplainable attachments to characters happen (for me it’s revali from breath of the wild. idk why but i love him so much (yes i realize he’s kind of a terrible person)). but i’m just wondering if there’s any specific reason you love him so much?

Yipee, my first ask!!!

It's hard to keep this brief so...:)

When I started Hollow Knight, Hornet was my favourite. I never went to Black Egg Temple so i never saw Quirrel until Lake of Unn.

When I first met him, I didn't think much, but thought he was neat (like all of the characters I've interacted with up to this point).

I missed him in Queens Station because I went to the bench first, then went to interact only to find that he was gone. However, I did not recognize him, so I pretty sad to miss the interaction.

City of Tears rolls around. And oh boy I was so excited to sit with a friendly bug! I sat with him for a while, enjoying the atmosphere, then realised that he is the same guy from Lake of Unn, and that Lake of Unn guy is the same guy as the Queens Station guy. I immediately liked him so much more when I realised this. I loved that he was also exploring! The bench also gave him bonus points, and it became my favourite bench.

Now I became *VERY* excited to explore, to find him in the next area, hunting him down so I can talk with him more. But I never saw him in Deepnest, nor did I see him in Crystal Peak. The next time I saw him was outside of Teacher's Archive. I was SO happy!

And what sealed his place as my favourite character in Hollow Knight (and soon to be overall favourite character alongside Hawks) was the Uumuu fight. I did not see him when he shows up in the fight, but I heard his voice and immediately got hyped. And saw that he was helping me. HELPING ME!!! I did not care how much i died, I never raged at Uumuu at all. I was having a blast. The moment I heard him in the fight, he became my favourite in HK.

Afterwards, I then decided to explore Resting Grounds. My memory of it was foggy, and I wanted to see what was up with that.

I accidentally walked into blue lake.. and there is my friend! Quirrel!

After talking, i sat with him. For a while, but just too short. I left and said aloud (because I was on call with my friend), that i'd come back to him later. I exited the area and decided I wanted to sit with him a little longer.

And his nail. I realised what it meant.

My friend was gone.

His entire storyline (i watched the rest of the interactions on yt), his love for exploring, his appearance (friend shaped) his aid in the battle against Uumuu, his bench, the foreshadowing, the detail of the subtle change in his voice after he removed Monomon's mask.

Everything. Everything about this bug made me love him so much. Yet it is also like one of those "no particular reason" situations. It's everything and nothing in particular at the same time.

Seeing him makes me happy. He makes me smile. His voice in the Hallownest Vocalized mod always makes me smile so fucking much. The Quirrel comic, and when it got voiced over by the Hallownest Vocalized actors. That makes me so incredibly happy as well. (This reminded me to buy the collectors edition of HK so I can get the physical comic and whatever other cool stuff it has).

I have a save file where I'm just at the Quirrel bench. It makes me happy.

I am happy to show my love for Quirrel, whether it's my ita bag, or my rambles about him, or that Quirrel Location written series I made.

I am so happy my friend got Hollow Knight. He didn't try convincing me to play it, I just ended up buying it on the switch. I knew of it beforehand, but my friend is why I got the game. I have him to thank for my love for my now favourite game and for Quirrel.

I know I talked a lot, but it's difficult to explain without going through every little bit, because everything about him makes me love him.

I like that this was my first ask I've recieved. As Quirrel would say:

"I like that. I like that very much."