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sollis-occasum · 2 months

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you think i'm gone 'cause i left - anakin skywalker/darth vader x fem!jedi!reader (part 1 of 3)

summary: After failing to save you from a painful death, Darth Vader remembers his past with you and realizes why he can never completely leave Anakin Skywalker behind.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, reconstructive surgery, blood, mentions of major character death (or not who knows), darth vader is his own warning

word count: 3.8k

a/n: First of all, I must say that English is not my native language. Also this is my first x reader format fanfiction. I'm pretty sure I made some mistakes but I hope you don't mind guys. I am always open to your suggestions ♡

part 2

Darth Vader, the master of the dark side of the Force, the legendary lord of the Sith, the tyrannical leader who terrorized the galaxy, remembered very well the moment when he swore to dedicate his worthless life to Lord Sidious, his lord and savior.

While his body, burned and torn apart by the lava, was trying to be fixed by the health droids, he was writhing in despair and moaning in a painful voice. The wave of pain spreading from his lungs to the rest of his body with each breath showed him a type of physical pain he had never experienced before, and even the cold metal hands touching his burned skin were insufficient to alleviate his pain.

"He should be unconscious by now," he heard a distant and very deep robotic voice, which he thought belonged to one of the medical droids. Yes, the pain he felt at that moment would be enough to kill another human being and maybe even drive them insane, and God knows that's what Anakin wanted with all his heart as he lay on the operating table screaming. But how could this be possible when he sees your lifeless body over and over again every time he closes his eyes?

In fact, he had calculated all the possibilities down to the smallest detail while making his plan. There was no war he wouldn't fight, no enemy he wouldn't face to create a future that included you. He was ready to turn his back on the entire galaxy just to see you smile one more time. Moreover, Palpatine had made a promise to him. He said that contrary to popular belief, it was possible to resist death and that he knew how to do it, and that he would help Anakin in trying to save you. All he had to do was accompany him to the dark side. Anakin had done everything he was told. He had given up on who he was, accepted the name his new master had given him, brutally executed separatist leaders, and led thousands of clone troopers in attacking the Jedi Temple he once called home. Even killing those little children who looked at him with admiration with the lightsaber they saw as a symbol of peace was not important to him. Of course, he wasn't proud of himself for betraying what he believed in in his past, but he also knew that what he did was a small price to pay to save you. So why didn't what he did work? Why couldn't he prevent the scene he had seen many times in his nightmares from happening?

He gripped the operating table tightly with his mechanical hand and mumbled your name in a voice only he could hear. He kept saying your name over and over again, as if he was drawing strength from you, as if you could come and save him if he said it enough times.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on something other than your pained facial expression and bloodied body. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to rise up and take revenge for what was done to you, he had to find a way to endure the pain he suffered, and what was there in this life that gave him as much strength as you? He tried desperately to remember the moment you first met.

Nearly a month had passed since Qui Gon Jinn's death, and during this time his new master Obi Wan Kenobi had begun training him to become a Jedi. He was grateful for the opportunity given to him and did not want to be ungrateful. However, there were so many moments during his training that he despaired and wanted to return to Tatooine... First of all, Obi Wan Kenobi was not the person he imagined. Yes, it was an undeniable fact that he was a powerful Jedi. He was also smart, very smart. Anakin knew there was a lot of thing he could learn from him. However, it hadn't been long since he had ended his life as a padawan and Obi Wan had obviously not yet fully figured out how to be a good master for his young student. There was no distance or formality between them that there should be between a padawan and a master. They were more like two brothers who fought often. Obi Wan was pushing Anakin very hard to teach him basic things as soon as possible, and Anakin was always managing to drive Obi Wan crazy with his smarty-pants attitude.

He could also sense how the younglings at the temple felt about him as he began to learn how to use the force. Although none of them were directly mistreating him or making a rude remark, Anakin would sometimes catch their gaze. There was displeasure in those looks, obviously his presence disturbed them. A child who appears unexpectedly becomes a padawan without training in the temple and becomes the center of attention of the entire Jedi council... The other younglings must have felt unfair. But one day, he met a young girl who looked at him differently than others: You.

With your bright smile that could light up the whole galaxy and your compassionate gaze, you extended your hand to him and introduced yourself, telling him that he could always come to you if he needed anything. They said you were 9 years old like him, but it was so hard for him to believe it.

You were different from all the other children Anakin had met at the temple, with your confident demeanor and room-filling presence. Your surprisingly mature attitude and wisdom gave those who saw you the impression that you never made mistakes and that you always knew what was right, causing them to respect you.

Moreover, you were beautiful, very beautiful. Even your messy hair waving in the wind, your face dripping with sweat, and your loose-fitting uniform couldn't prevent Anakin from seeing this beauty. When his eyes met your beautiful, understanding eyes, he immediately looked away and wanted to run away. There was no doubt that you were the angel the pilots who came to Tatooine were talking about. However, he could not find the courage in his heart to admit this to himself or to tell you. He felt so small, so helpless in front of the being that he wanted to get away from it as soon as possible and think about what this warm feeling that filled his heart that he had never felt before was.

Yes, he wanted to run away from you when your eyes met. But ironically, this was the first time he didn't want to return to Tatooine to his mother.

For the 3 years after you met, you had no communication other than chance encounters at the temple and furtive glances at each other. Even a life form without eyes could easily understand that you wanted to be closer to each other, but you had neither the time nor the courage to do so. You were very busy with your studies. In the future, you wanted to be a female Jedi as respected as Shaak Ti, or even more so, and you were working very hard to achieve your goal. Anakin, on the other hand, began to go on missions given by the council with Obi Wan, and the difficulty of these missions was increasing. You were so close to Anakin, yet he felt like you were hundreds of light years away from him. You were unreachable to him.

Anakin heard that you were accepted as a padawan by Plo Koon when you turned 13. According to rumors in the temple, the Jedi knight from Dorin noticed your great potential and volunteered to train you. Maybe you weren't as good at using a lightsaber as the other padawans, you might not have been as strong or as durable, but you were smart, very smart. Your dangerously high intelligence level, combined with your composure, easily compensated for your other weaknesses, making you a promising Jedi knight candidate. Even the council had high hopes for you. That's why they didn't interfere with Plo Koon's training style and allowed him to take you out early on missions that could be considered at least partially dangerous.

It was thanks to one of these missions that you came together again. The Senate thought that a small newly established weapons factory on one of the republic's planets was making some irregularities and put pressure on the Jedi to resolve this situation. The council assigned you and Plo Koon to inspect this factory.

It didn't sound that difficult, actually. You would make a short journey to reach the planet in question, tour the factory, talk to the engineers, examine some documents and intimidate the managers.

What could go wrong with such a simple task? To be honest, you weren't known for being lucky, and as usual, trouble had found you.

Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't even need to contact Plo Koon to realize that the Senate was right about the factory producing weapons for Mandolorian terrorists. Less than a day after you arrived on the planet, you reached the council and reported that the factory was completely abandoned, saying that you were trapped and surrounded by thousands of droids and asked for help. The council also assigned Obi Wan and Anakin, who had returned from a mission to a nearby planet, to support Plo Koon and you. Anakin still remembered Mace Windu's explanation word by word when he explained the urgency of your situation to his master Obi-Wan. And how those words filled his little heart with fear.

"You must reach the weapons factory as soon as possible, Master Kenobi." Mace Windu said in a stern tone. "Or it might be too late to save them."

Even if these words had not been spoken, the more serious expression than ever on Mace Windu's face would have been more than enough for even the most primitive creature in the galaxy to understand the situation.

As the spaceship they were on made a sudden return to your planet by order of his master, Anakin was wondering why he was so worried about a girl he had only talked to a few times. While he could keep his cool even during missions where his own life was threatened, why did the idea of you in pain make his heart beat faster and his head spin? He was trying to breathe to calm down, but even his breathing was so irregular that Obi Wan felt the need to turn to him and reassure him that everything was okay. How could Anakin explain to his master that he was afraid for you, not himself? Would he understand if he told him?

While the young padawan was in these thoughts, the ship entered the atmosphere with a sudden jolt and landed near the factory. As the deafening noise of explosions and droid weapons filled his ears, he got off the ship and started running without waiting for his master's command. He could hear Obi-Wan calling to him to stop, but he didn't have the time or patience to wait. This was not a scene they were unfamiliar with anyway. When all this nonsense was over, he would happily hear Obi Wan's scolding and humbly accept his punishment, but right now wasn't the right time to think about that. The only thing that mattered at that moment was saving you, and he was going to do it no matter what it took. Because it was his heart, not his brain, that told him to do this, and Anakin was not mature enough to resist his heart. With a swift move, he pulled out his lightsaber and sliced the first droid he encountered in half.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps mixing with the sounds of the battle droids, he realized how close he was to them, but he didn't even slow down for fear of being late for you. He was destroying all the war machines in front of him, clearing the way and moving towards the direction where he sensed your presence.

When he and his master, who finally managed to catch up with him, arrived at the production facility where you were fighting the droids, he started looking around for you, without even bothering to check how Plo Koon was doing. Plo Koon was one of the most powerful Jedi, someone like him could survive without the help of a padawan, but not you. He could feel with all his being that you needed help, but no matter how much he looked around, he couldn't see you.

While Anakin was looking around the burning production facility to find you, he saw two silhouettes in the smoke. One of these silhouettes, the one leaning on the ground and cowering against a wall, belonged to a young girl. The other was the silhouette of an armed droid, as tall as a human but as skinny as a skeleton. Moreover, this droid's gun was pointed at you and was about to be fired. Anakin knew his feelings were not wrong. You were in a difficult situation and needed his help.

He was sure that he wanted to run towards you, save you by smashing that droid into thousands of pieces, and then kick its ugly metal head and throw it to the farthest corner of the galaxy. But he knew he didn't have time for that. So he did something even he didn't expect and threw his lightsaber towards you, hoping you could catch it in time. He knew that this move was madness. What kind of maniac would give up the only weapon he had among thousands of battle droids and leave himself defenseless? Especially if he doesn't know the other person well?

But Anakin had never regretted what he had done, not even for a moment. He saw you pull the thrown lightsaber with force and catch it, then slice the droid in half before he could fire to you. Yes, you were safe, but that safety was only for a brief moment. He had no time to relax, otherwise he knew you would be open to attacks from other droids. Without wasting any time, he followed the green lightsaber shining among the smoke and reached him. You were finally in front of him.

To be honest, your situation wasn't looking so bright. You were seriously injured and your body was covered in blood. Anakin had knelt down next to you and gently held your face between his fingers, afraid of hurting you even more. He could feel the warm drops of blood running down your face, flowing from his fingers to his wrists, but he didn't care about anything other than your safety at that moment. "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to hide how worried he was. Just by looking into your eyes, he could see how much the conflict you were experiencing had worn you out, but you put on a brave and determined expression and nodded, trying not to let the pain you were feeling reflected in your voice, "I'm fine." you muttered. "I'm fine, but I think my legs are stuck and I can't move them."

"Don't be afraid, I'll find a way to get you out of here."

He could see a shattering mass of metal pinning your legs. He took the lightsaber from your hand, carefully opened it, and held it up to the metal plate. "I'll try not to cut off your legs," he said, trying to smile to calm you down, and then added. "At least one of them."

You must have liked Anakin's little joke, too, because your lips turned slightly to the side despite your helpless situation. "Don't worry." you said, laughing. "They will break off on their own anyway, even if you don't cut them."

After receiving a sarcastic approval from you, he began to cut and separate the metal pieces with great patience. He made every move carefully and attentively, afraid of hurting you. When your legs were finally free, he took a deep breath and looked at your face again.

"It's not safe here. We have to get out of here."

"But my master is still fighting." Even though you tried to object, Anakin did not accept it. "He can take care of himself, and the support sent by the council is on the way."

His tone and expression were so determined that you gave up and surrendered to Anakin. You didn't have the strength to resist even if you wanted to. He wrapped his arms tightly around your body, stood up and started walking towards the factory exit. To be honest, you were a little heavier than you looked, and your blood was staining his clothes, but as long as you could rest your head on his chest and he could feel the warmth of your body, nothing else mattered.

Your next meeting was in the infirmary at the Jedi temple. 3 days had passed after your unfortunate duty at the factory and you had just regained your consciousness. During this time, Anakin began to help Jocasta Nu in the archives, upon his master's orders. It could not be said that he was very happy with his situation, but he still considered himself lucky that the punishment for his disobedience during duty was so small. Besides, even though organizing the archives was a tedious task, it kept his mind busy, and he definitely needed it.

Every moment he wasn't busy with something, he was thinking about you and what happened at the factory that day and trying to make sense of what he was feeling. That strange feeling that he thought he had forgotten years ago was back. Why did his heart beat faster and his face turn red every time he thought of you? Were these normal? His master had told him that a Jedi should not become attached to anything, but he should also be compassionate. Anakin could not understand this contrast. He was also afraid of being attached to you. But this was very illogical. Could one person become so attached to another person in such a short time? All these questions confused little Anakin more than ever. Finally, he realized that he could not bear these questions any longer and decided to visit you in the infirmary at the end of the 3rd day. Besides, he also had something that belonged to you, and he had to return it to you as soon as possible.

When he came to you, he saw that you were much more cheerful than he expected. You still looked very weak and you were obviously going to be in the infirmary for a while longer. Still, without letting this demoralize you, you were patiently waiting for your recovery, and in the meantime, you were trying to pass the time by reading the war history texts you took from the archive.

Still, you smiled so widely when you saw Anakin that he was convinced you were glad to see him, too. Trying to suppress the uncomfortable feeling he felt in his stomach, he put on a confident expression and quickly walked over and sat on your bed.

"You look better." he said with the light of hope appearing in his eyes.

You smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Anakin." you said. "I feel better too."

After a brief hesitation, he pulled a lightsaber from under his cloak and handed it to you, "I think this is yours." he said. "I found it at the factory."

Just seeing the familiar blue color of the lightsaber brought peace to your soul. You happily took the saber from Anakin's hand and began to examine it. "God, thank you so much Anakin. I thought I had lost it."

"My master always tells me that the lightsaber is a Jedi's life and they must protect it at all costs."

Even though you lost your lightsaber for reasons beyond your control, what Anakin said made you a little embarrassed. "Of course, I'm not trying to justify my irresponsibility, but what happened that day was unexpected. I must have dropped it during that chaos."

"To be honest, I've lost my lightsaber too many times."

The confession of the padawan in front of you made you smile a little. Actually, what you should have done was to politely thank Anakin for saving your life, and when the time comes, pay him back at all costs. However, owing your life to him placed such a heavy burden on your shoulders that you felt crushed under this weight, no matter how humble the attitude of the boy in front of you. Before you even thought, the words were coming out of your mouth. "Master Kenobi says that our lightsaber is our life, right? So, according to the master's logic, you entrusted your life to me in the factory, and you also saved mine by finding my lightsaber."

Anakin looked at you in surprise, not knowing what to say at your words. Yes, your reasoning based on his master's words was correct, however, he did not expect you to approach the subject from this perspective. Fortunately, you continued talking without a long pause, and he was spared the trouble of finding an answer to give you.

"I am grateful to you for saving my life, Anakin, and I swear that one day I will repay you. Please give me your lightsaber until that day, and you can take mine."

"So you want us to surrender our lives to each other?" Anakin asked with mixed emotions. Wouldn't this agreement create a commitment between you? Anakin could not comprehend the depth of this devotion.

You nodded decisively in response. "Yes. So we can remember this promise between us for the rest of our lives. These sabers we exchanged will be a symbol of our friendship and trust in each other, and one day I will repay my debt to you. Until then, I want to remember the promise I made to you every time I look at your saber."

Then you added timidly, "If you want too, of course."

Anakin thought for a few seconds, then without a word, he handed you his lightsaber and accepted this pact that would bind your hearts and bodies together forever. Thus, a very special bond was formed between you that will never be broken again. Who knew that this innocent bond established between two children would one day bring disaster to the galaxy...

#x reader #hayden christensen #star wars #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader #darth vader x reader #plo koon #obi wan kenobi #hayden christensen x reader #star wars x reader #fanfic #x you #anakin x you #angst #anakin skywalker angst #darth vader angst

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boydepartment · 10 months

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hii :)) i saw ur requests and since i love how you do your piece of work, i was wondering if u could do enha texts when their partner (y/n) is failing one of their subjects at school? or smth like that? thank you!

enha texts + scenarios- when you’re failing your class!

a/n: OMG OF COURSE ANON!!! i really hope you aren’t failing any of your classes :( but i get it trust me. i am not very academic i’ll be fr

warnings- cursing

MASTERLIST

jungwon-

jungwon immediately after comes out of his room to watch you and jake try to tackle this math assignment. you were not wrong jake was terrifying while explaining calculus. eventually jungwon got bored and saw you needed a break so you both took a late night walk and got ice cream :)

heeseung-

heeseung surprisingly helped you a lot with your work. he doubted himself greatly but when it came to it he really did help you. he would read your books, try to get a grasp, and then explain it to you. heeseung is also super reassuring and holds your hand softly while explaining things.

jay-

making your studying session a competition was absolutely genius. jay had the rest of enha join the jeopardy game and it helped A TON. you would remember things because someone did something stupid and it’d trigger the memory in your head. eventually your grade rose and jay took you out 🫶

jake-

jake felt awful holding you in his arms and listening to you stress over school. he understood. as much as he enjoyed learning and growing, the numbers and grades always stressed him out to. it felt wrong to put a grade on learning. jake from this point forward made it his absolute goal to help you with whatever schooling you needed help with. to him it was a win win, he got to learn and help his favorite person.

sunghoon-

sunghoon didn’t know your history work from atom. he felt horrible that he couldn’t help as much as a tutor or something. however, he didn’t know all you needed was just someone there. your studying went smoothy with sunghoon leaning on you and feeding you when needed. he’d always remind you to eat and drink, to be honest you believed you only passed because of him taking care of you.

sunoo-

right when sunoo found out you were failing he immediately went to riki and begged him to help you with your language work. you were taking japanese and no matter how good you were at it the teacher just was not it. so you obviously needed extra help. sunoo hated to see you struggling so he would sit there next to you while riki attempted to help you as much as he could. if either of you got frustrated sunoo would have a 15 min break which consisted of ice cream and playing with your hair. then it was back to work

riki-

having riki in your home while you attempted to write an essay sounds like a nightmare. but to be honest, all he did was lay on you and go on tiktok as you typed away. you’d ask questions about a certain topic and he would look it up then text you the article for the bibliography page too. he really did help you even if he had no clue what the fuck MLA formatting was

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gimmethatagustd · 1 year

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what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #what the fire gave us

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 5: Dreams

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (for mature content)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), implications of a panic attack and anxiety, language, angst, mature content, sexually explicit content

Word Count: ~3.9k

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Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: Your friendship with Eren is taken to the next level. You have a sweet dream that turns into a nightmare. Eren tells his parents that he is considering changing his major. Author’s Note: What do we think of this chapter? I know it’s a bit of a slow burn, so I appreciate you sticking with this! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated. If you want to be tagged in the next chapter(s), please let me know! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.

You press firmly on the strings of the guitar, stretching your pinky as far as you can to reach whatever note Eren instructed you to. With a gentle strum, you play the chord. Well, sort of. It definitely doesn’t sound the way it did when he showed you. You drop your head, sighing. “Okay, it’s official. I suck at guitar.”

Eren sits crossed legged in front of you. “You don’t. Try again,” he encourages, a small smile on his face.

“I can’t get my hands to bend the right way!” You hold your palm out in front of him, twisting your fingers in all types of misshapen claw formations. “Admit it. I suck.”

“You don’t suck.”

“It’s okay, I’ve accepted it! And as my mentor, you should too. Say it.”

“I will not,” he refuses, folding his arms over his chest, smirking.

“C’mon, Eren! Look,” You play the broken chord again, louder this time, trying to prove a point. “See?! Say it!”

He chuckles, responding quietly, “Okay, maybe you do suck at this. Just a little bit,” pinching a small space of air between his thumb and index finger.

You set the guitar back on its stand, laughing. “Ha! I knew it. This tells me that I should leave this to the professionals.” You grin at him, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit across from him on the carpeted floor.

Ever since the game-night Eren hosted a few weeks ago, the two of you have grown closer. More often now, you find yourself in his room, chatting about life, listening to each other vent, watching a movie, or indulging in his wonderful guitar skills. He even attempted to teach you the stringed instrument; the key word being attempted. Being with him makes you almost forget the misery that you suffered at the beginning of this semester. Almost.

Reiner remains relentless in his efforts to contact you. While you’ve managed to avoid any personal confrontations ever since the last one outside your dorm, he hasn’t stopped reaching out through text. A few times throughout the week, he’ll call you, leaving a short message that’s along the lines of, “Hey, it’s me again. Call me when you’re ready to talk.” You never pick up, nor respond, and still, he tries.

You wish you were unfazed by it, but parts of you cling to the past. Deep down, it pains you to ignore him. Sometimes, you see him as Reiner, your best friend, the kid you grew up with. Protecting you on the playground, confiding in you during his lowest moments, picking you up during yours. And as much as you want to preserve those memories of him like a delicate treasure, one bad breakup is enough to shatter it. To make you realize that maybe the two of you should have stayed friends all along, and nothing more.

Surprisingly, you’ve been able to talk about this easily with Eren. Annie has always been your main confidant throughout, but her less than gentle approach sometimes leaves you defeated, as if you’re wrong for having these conflicted feelings for your ex. As much as you’d like to be completely, one hundred percent over him, it isn’t that simple. And with Eren, he understands that. Having no stakes in it, or knowing who Reiner is, he listens to your inner turmoil without judgment. He makes you feel normal.

He's been opening up to you, too, sharing his on-going struggles with his pre-med major and the impossible expectations of his father. He maintains that pleasant smile on his face, despite being crushed by whatever weight that’s been forced on him from an early age. A victim of suffering he’s been subjected to inherit, without any say. It’s his father’s burden that was passed on to him, to continue whatever legacy he thinks will help the world. Dr. Jaeger is always looking out for the greater good of society, never about his own family.

It’s been nice confiding in each other, not having to hold back for the sake of each other’s feelings. When you were with Reiner, you always had to be extra cautious around him, wanting to avoid saying anything that might hurt him. In Eren’s case, he’s never been able to be honest with his father. While he has his mother, he can’t always be completely honest with her, not wanting to cause any rift amongst his parents.

Eren is actually considering changing his major. He’s been in contact with Erwin Smith, getting an idea of what the process would look like. The senior has been more than helpful, alleviating any concerns he might have about the transition, even setting up a time to meet with his father, who works as a teacher at a nearby elementary school. Still, he’s apprehensive to make the final step, as expected. It’s a big decision, one that changes the course of his future. It might cause drama between him and his family. No matter what he ends up deciding, you’ve made it clear that you’ll support him through and through.

You check your phone for the time. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back to my room now before Annie gets worried.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, wouldn’t want her getting an ideas about us.”

“Oh, believe me, she already has. She’s convinced we’re dating,” you say, standing up.

He follows, stepping towards the door, fingers at the handle. “How scandalous! I can picture the headlines now: Anxiety-ridden RA whisks beautiful resident off her feet to run away into the sunset together.”

You beam at him. “Now that’s a story I’d love to read.”

He smiles back. “Me too.”

Recently, there’s been a shift in energy between you two. There’s no denying it: you are attracted to him, both to his magnetic personality and his charming looks. But there’s this everlasting guilt in the pit of your stomach, preventing you from pursuing anything romantic with him. Simply imagining it brings you shame, like it’s inappropriate to think about. Obviously, you and Reiner are over, maybe for good. And you’re almost certain he’s been with other women since, at least, that’s what your self-conscious mind theorizes. So what’s stopping you? Is it fear? Fear of working hard at another relationship, only for it to crumble before your feet, like it did with your ex? You can’t take any more heartache. It’s easier to avoid it all together.

As you’ve said before, the easier road isn’t always better. And the optimistic, love-sick fool in you believes there’s a chance at a happy ending, this time with Eren instead of Reiner. It’s new, foreign territory, a journey filled with the unknown. Is it worth the risk?

For now, you keep these thoughts buried in the back of your mind. You value your friendship with Eren, enough to not ruin it. Besides, you’re unsure how he feels about you. Maybe you’re better off as friends and nothing more, just as it should have been with Reiner. And while this hurts to realize, it’s better for everyone in the long run. There’s no room for heartbreak if you don’t give your heart to anyone. It’s that simple, right?

He holds open the door for you, leaning against the frame. “Sweet dreams.”

“You always say that,” you giggle.

“Well, that’s because I mean it. I really hope you have some seriously sweet dreams tonight.”

You step out into the hall slowly. “Thanks, Mr. RA. I wish the same for you, too. Goodnight.” With a final wave, you head into your room, cheeks pleasantly warm with a bright smile on your face.

~~~

“You’re beautiful.”

Eren lays beside you in bed, cupping your face in his hand, thumb brushing delicately along your cheekbone. He leans closer, lips brushing yours into a gentle kiss. A rush of heat radiates to every inch of your skin, electricity buzzing through your veins. “I want you to feel good,” he whispers, mouth grazing your ear, fingers sliding down your throat and to your chest, resting his palm over your heart. You hold your breath as he touches you, nervous to be vulnerable with him.

Sensing this trepidation, he pulls away to look at you, tipping your chin towards him to meet his gaze. With a comforting smile, he says, “It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

And you believe him. At his words, you’re at ease, letting his hands caress your body, stripping you naked. He scatters kisses on your neck, trailing down your stomach, slowly making his way between your thighs. Peering up at you, he asks, “Can I taste you?”

You nod, eager to feel his tongue on you.

He latches his lip on your arousal, licking and slurping at your clit. Your fingers are bunched in his hair, feeling his head thrash side-to-side against your pussy.

“Fuck, Eren. Feels so good,” you moan, indulging in the pleasure.

At the mention of his name, he suddenly stops. When he raises his head to look at you, it’s Reiner. He crawls up to face you, nose-to-nose, sneering. “How could you do this to me, Coco? Cheating on me with your fucking RA? You fucking bitch.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and in shock, limbs rigid at your sides, unable to move. You’re trapped beneath him, the air growing thin, making it difficult to breath. As you suffocate, he grabs your face in a rough grasp, seething the words, “Cheater, cheater, cheater” over and over again…

You wake up with sweat beading on your forehead, blanket twisted around your limbs. Guilt weighs heavily on your chest as you take deep breaths to calm down. It was a dream, thankfully. Reiner’s never called you a bitch before. It was the worst version of him your mind could think of in the form of a nightmare.

Sitting up in bed, wiping the perspiration from your face, you recall Eren’s uncanny farewell to you hours earlier. It definitely started as a sweet dream; the idea of you and Eren being intimate with each other has you flustered. All the times you’ve been alone with him in his room, elbows grazing, hands brushing, the shared looks that last seconds longer than they need to. It’s a leap of faith, to cross that line. And fear is what holds you back. Fear of failure, of falling in love to only stumble out of it again. Fear and guilt. It’s silly to feel guilty about it, especially since you’re the one who got your heart broken. But nightmare Reiner calling you a bitch and a cheater haunts you.

You lay back down in bed, fitting your head comfortably in your pillow. It takes a while longer for you to fall asleep; eventually, you do. And deep down, you’re disappointed when you don’t have another dream about Eren.

~~~

Eren sits in an alcove on his favorite beach, watching the sunset on the horizon. He managed to catch this beautiful sight before he has to meet his parents for dinner. It’s their semi-annual visit; his father managed to squeeze him in on his very busy schedule. Lucky him.

He takes this time to lose himself, pretend that it’s just him and the sea, basking in the day’s last moments of sunshine. It’s too pretty to indulge in all alone. Suddenly, he has the urge to share this with someone else. Without thinking, he scrolls through his contacts, finding the one person he wants to talk to. The resident from Room 104. His friend.

It takes two rings until she answers. “Hey, are you okay?”

He smiles to himself, amused at her immediate concern. He realizes now that he’s never actually called her before. They’ve texted plenty, exchanged funny tweets, greeted each other good mornings and goodnights. But to hear her in his ear, as if she’s sitting beside him, feels right. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just called to say hi.”

There’s a beat before she responds with a simple, “Hi.” He can practically hear the rounded cheeks on her face. His chest swells, happy he decided to dial her number. “Where are you right now?” she asks.

“I’m watching the sunset on the beach,” he replies, wiggling his toes into the sand.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful here. It puts my mind at ease.” He wants to add that her soothing voice has the same effect; he decides to keep that to himself.

She hums. “Sounds like paradise. Where is this, exactly?”

“It’s my super-secret spot. No one knows about it, not even Armin or Mikasa. You have to be really special to know about it.”

She laughs. “I guess I’ll have to charm it out of you, then.”

Too late. He unsure exactly when it started, but lately, Eren has been seeing her in a different light. From the first time they met, even though snot and tears as she cried over her ex because of a cupcake, he was drawn to her. In a weird way, he felt a connection; she’s going through her own struggles like he is. Everyone around him is having a fabulous time, nailing their classes, partying like there’s no tomorrow. And he never resented his friends for enjoying their college experience. He felt left out. Different.

And maybe it’s true: misery really does love company. However, being with her is far from miserable. Although they confess to one another their strife in life, it’s cathartic, like a cumbersome burden gradually easing away. When they’re not complaining about annoying exes or overbearing parents, they’re sharing new memories together, learning more about each other, solidifying that bond. That connection.

He likes her, enjoys being around her. Sacrifices precious study time to teach her guitar, though she really does suck at it. He forgets about the unending quizzes and tests he has to constantly prepare for because he’d rather sit on his carpeted floor, snacking on Pocky Sticks or eating Chinese takeout with a movie playing on his laptop. He’d choose her over textbooks any day because being with her is like an escape. A breath of fresh air when he’s otherwise suffocating from the pressure.

Before he realizes, he’s saying, “I’ll show you this one day. You’ll love it.”

“Does that mean I’m special?” she teases. He pictures her on the other line, smiling with the phone pressed to her ear, lying in bed. All cozy in the sheets, probably in some dainty pajamas. The hem of her shirt riding up, exposing that cute belly. Maybe she isn’t wearing a bra, nipples peaked through the fabric…

He’s officially lost it. Face hot with shame, he rattles his head, as if doing so will eliminate the naughty thoughts occupying his mind. Swallowing hard, he answers, “You are special. Very, very special…” It comes out awkwardly. His cheeks are sweltering with both guilt and embarrassment now. What’s going on with him?

Luckily, she seems to think he’s still normal, replying, “You’re special too, Mr. RA. Thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

Friend. He has to remind himself that they’re just that, and nothing more. If only she knew the effect he has on him. Would she give him a chance?

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he knows it’s his mom texting him that they’re on the way. It’s his cue to head back into town. He reluctantly says goodbye, nothing else incriminating coming out of his mouth. With one last glance at the ocean, he turns around towards his car, dreading what’s to come.

~~~

Less than an hour later, Eren and his parents are sitting around a table at an Italian restaurant downtown. The waiter serves their drinks, iced water for Eren, two glasses of red wine for his parents. His mom is holding over most of the conversation, catching Eren up on all of the family news. He doesn’t care, but he likes listening to her talk. It’s relaxing for him, allows him to not think about anything else. That is, until his father starts speaking.

“Eren, Zeke’s been telling me you haven’t been performing well in Organic Chemistry. Is that true?”

What a fucking snitch. It doesn’t surprise him; Zeke’s always knocking Eren down a peg so he can look taller in the eyes of their father. And while he says he means well, he actually doesn’t. However, this is a good opportunity to segue into what he actually wants to discuss. “Yeah, dad. That’s true. Ochem is really kicking my ass right now.”

Dr. Jaeger takes a swig of his wine. “Do you need a tutor? I’ll give you money to hire one.”

Eren tips his water into his mouth, gulping slowly. He’s getting nervous, second guessing himself if he should really say what’s been on his mind for the past couple weeks. Before he chickens out, he decides to go for it. “Actually, I’m considering changing my major.”

The silence is loud, even with the other patrons clinking their dishes and chatting away. His mother stares at him, eyes wide and mouth parted open. His father swirls the alcohol in his hand, staring at the liquid whirling around the glass. It lasts for at least a full minute, or at least, that’s what it seems like to Eren. He’s tempted to add, “Just kidding!” to make this painfully uncomfortable quiet disappear.

Finally, his father speaks. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not very funny, Eren.”

“I’m not kidding.”

He leans forward, inspecting his son’s face carefully. “What would you change it to?”

Eren taps his foot nervously beneath the table, responding, “Education. I want to be a teacher.”

His father barks a cruel laugh, startling your mother and the neighboring table, who stares, intrigued. “Teacher? You want to be a teacher? Eren, this is ludicrous. I’m not going to waste my money on your tuition for you to become a teacher.”

“What’s wrong with being a teacher?!” Eren snaps.

“I’m paying for you to become a doctor. Teachers don’t make any money.”

Eren mumbles, “Not everything in life is about money.”

“That’s a very naïve mindset. How will you support a family without a decent income?”

“There are plenty of teachers who can afford to raise a family, so I don’t see how that’s relevant.” And besides, making more money doesn’t automatically mean you’re a better parent. Prime example is Dr. Jaeger himself, but Eren knows better than to throw that back to him.

His dad shakes his head, massaging his temples as if he’s got a bad headache. “You need to hire a tutor, Eren. The courses are difficult, but getting a tutor will help.”

“It’s not just that, dad. I’m not happy. I don’t want to be a doctor.”

His mom chimes in. “Honey, are you sure you’ve given this enough thought? This is a big decision.”

He nods. “I have. It’s been on my mind for a while now. And I know in my heart this is what I want.”

She gives him a small grin, glancing at her husband, who’s reeling in his seat. “Grisha, it’s going to be okay.”

“Carla, this is his future. He’s ruining his life.”

Eren scoffs. “Dad, is it really that bad?”

He glares at him. “You were supposed to take over my practice.”

“You have Zeke.”

He continues to rattle his head, freaking out. “If you change your major, I will not pay for the rest of your tuition.”

It’s a threat. Eren’s prepared for the worst. “I’ll get a job, take out loans. If you don’t want to support me, fine. But that’s not going to change my mind.”

It’s silent again for what seems like forever. Suddenly, Dr. Jaeger stands up, tossing his napkin from his lap onto the table. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Carla, we’re leaving.”

“Grisha.”

He stares at Eren dead in the eyes. “You were supposed to be special. I had very high hopes for you, Eren. Now, you’re just a disappointment.”

It’s words. That’s all it is. Eren has to remind himself that. Sticks and stones, right? But the disdain on his father’s face, the contempt dripping in his frown, all of that combined with what comes out of his mouth so easily, without a hitch in his breath. It breaks his heart. He is not prepared to hear this. While it doesn’t completely surprise him, it still hurts. He fights the tears, gulping down the sorrow building in his throat. Drinking the remaining water in his empty cup as his father storms off, his mother chasing after him, pleading with him to come back. Eren waits a couple of minutes, hoping they return, that his dad apologizes and takes back what he said. It doesn’t happen. His phone vibrates and reveals a text from his mom.

Mom: I’m sorry honey

Mom: We’re driving back home now

Mom: I will talk to your father and I will call you later

In the worst timing possible, the food they ordered minutes before disaster is served. Eren asks the waiter to package everything up, no longer hungry. After he pays the check, he drives back to campus, grip tight on the wheel, listening to whatever music is on his playlist at full volume. Trying to drown his father’s words replaying over and over in his head. You were supposed to be special. I had very high hopes for you. You’re just a disappointment.

He parks the car in his usual spot, sulking in the driver’s seat for a little while longer until he exits, carrying the heavy bag of pasta towards his room. It’s a Friday night, and of course, the dorms are empty because everyone is out partying, not being a disappointment to their parents. He approaches his door, leaning forward to press his forehead against, feeling like he’s at the bottom of the barrel, trying to claw his way out somehow. He can’t call his mom because she’s probably too busy dealing with the aftermath. So, he dials the only other person he knows will listen. The only other person he can rely on.

She picks up his call quickly, after one ring. “Eren?”

He thinks he can hear her faintly down the hall from inside her bedroom. His feet shuffle towards Room 104, dragging the to-go bag of food along with him. “Hi,” he greets, sullen.

“Are you okay? Where are you?” She sounds concerned, and in this fucked up state he’s in, it’s what he needs. Someone who cares.

“No, I’m not,” he sniffles, tears rolling down his cheeks. “It was a mistake. I should have never said anything.”

“Where are you?” she repeats, more frantic this time. From outside, he can hear her bed squeak as she hops off it. The swish of a jacket. The jingle of keys. Seconds later, she opens the door, finding him already standing there, begging for comfort.

And it’s not weird when she hugs him, wrapped around his torso, her face nestled into his chest. She fits into him like a puzzle piece, a missing one he never knew he needed. This is the closest they’ve been, probably the most they’ve ever touched. Yet something about this is familiar. Maybe it’s the warmth radiating from her affectionate embrace. Or the way he instinctually bows his head to nuzzle his nose at the top of her head. This is what he’s yearned for, dreamed of. Someone who looks at him like he’s worth something, even when other’s see a failure. Someone who holds him tightly with every fiber of her being to make sure he knows he’s loved. It’s in the way she presses her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. How her hand massages small circles onto his back, chanting, “It’s okay, Eren. It’s going to be okay.”

And with her in his arms, he actually believes it.

Taglist:

@batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog @maliakealoha @holdmeclosebutdontloveme @chrollohearttags @sailorputa @squickkk @dnyllmh @hellomeow12 @s-cream-ing @potofstewie @conniesbbymama @erzascarlett28 @lem-hhn @roronoazorosbxtchh @ichigostrawberry15 @rhaelrence @lilshades @bigmoodyjoody @icansmellsouls @aangsupremacy @ashsauroras @bakuhoes-bxtch @mrs-wolfwood @si-kamo @jmtherula @imaddicted-b @monkemanjeager @neesiewrote @large-juice @chiinni @belovedackerman

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lu-dao-writes · 6 months

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— 𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙚 & 𝙆𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙨)

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 You couldn’t predict this.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) Horror, blood and violence, gore, unrequited love, stalking, murder, paranoia, nightmares, hallucinations, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of sleep deprivation and insomnia, implied/referenced to self harming, choking, organ stealing, spiteful behavior, slight details of broken body, mentions of entrails.

𝘼/𝙉 I originally planned for this to be a oneshot, but I started disliking it when it started typing what I wrote. So I decided to format it this way! Maybe you’ll get the full fic one day!

I saw a picture on tumblr of a slightly scary looking Vere with sharp teeth and it got me thinking! Plus I wanted to try and practice some horror! This isn’t necessarily yandere but you can think that if you want! This is more of Vere being spiteful because he wasn’t picked. If it was anyone other than Kuras, he probably wouldn’t do this (in my mind anyways). Please heed the warnings y’all.

— Jealous!Vere who has feelings for you but he’s not one to be super open about how he feels.

— Jealous!Vere who only gives you nuggets of his feelings, you think he’s just being Vere, a flirt, but he thinks he’s being obvious when he’s flirting with you.

— Jealous!Vere who found out you’re dating that fucking doctor when he saw you both sharing a kiss under the moon in a lonely alleyway.

— Jealous!Vere who’s beyond hurt and angry he starts treating you like how he did before. Sharp remarks coated with sugary playfulness, gaslighting you whenever you try to ask about his sudden change of behavior.

— Jealous!Vere who starts poisoning your mind. He starts stalking you and you believe it’s people from the Senobium. It’s all too perfect and once you’re paranoid enough, he starts tormenting your dreams, turning them into haunting nightmares.

— Jealous!Vere who feigns concern when he hears from Ais that you’re rapidly deteriorating, only able to sleep for short periods at a time.

— Jealous!Vere who starts making you feel like you’re hallucinating when it’s just his shadows.

— Jealous!Vere who caught you self harming in the alley when you excused yourself from the group suddenly. He was beyond amused, having caught you doing something like that and knowing Kuras has no idea about your new habit either.

— Jealous!Vere who scares and confuses you as he just stares at you, blood dripping from your cursed arm. Did his teeth just change? Were they suddenly razor sharp when he licked the wine from his lips.

“Better bandage that. Who knows what you’ll attract~.”

— Jealous!Vere who didn’t tell a soul what he witnessed.

— Jealous!Vere who waits for you to come crawling to him for answers and instead of answering you, he tempts you with a “cure”.

— Jealous!Vere who refrains for grinning as you readily accept his help, and he takes you far away where it’s quiet, the moon being the only witness.

— Jealous!Vere who continues with his story, claiming you have a nasty monster clinging to your shadow and slowly feeding from you.

— Jealous!Vere who smiles warmly at your inquiry again about why he’s been treating you so differently. He caresses your face to further assure you. His smile is inviting, but his stare is not.

“Did you do something wrong? Oh my dear, you have no idea.”

— Jealous!Vere who suddenly has your throat in his hand, tightening when he explains what you’ve done.

“I know you’re foolish, most humans are, but to think that you’re idiotic enough to pick that fucking doctor when I was right there and hand feeding you hints, is downright insulting.”

— Jealous!Vere who forced your knees to the muddy ground, his tail wagging excitedly at your weak struggling and at your confusion and distress.

“So yeah, you did do something wrong. And I won’t forgive you for it.”

— Jealous!Vere who licks your tears and smiles down at you with inhuman, pearly white daggers, telling you that your shouldn’t cry when you asked for this, and how easy it was to ruin you.

“You wanted a cure right? Be thankful I love you so much to grant you your sweet release~.”

— Jealous!Vere who rips your heart out and holds it like it’s a precious gift from the heavens, the organ still beating.

—Jealous!Vere who licks the organ and moans at the blood coating his tastebuds.

— Jelaous!Vere who cradles your dying body in his arms, kissing your skin. And when you’re finally gone he steals your eyes and keeps them and your heart all for himself.

— Jelaous!Vere who drags your corpse to Kuras’ clinic and throws your innards at his window, your intestines decorating the building before he makes his escape.

Bonus

— Kuras who was waiting for your return, was reading one of his little mystery novels, when he was startled by a sudden noise from the window, seeing blood on the glass from the cracks of the curtains.

— Kuras who was well aware it had to be Vere since the little vermin loved leaving bruised and bloodied individuals from fights he won at his doorstep.

— Kuras who didn’t expect to see your broken body when he opens the door. Your torso is wide open, your ribs cracked, heart missing as well as your entrails. Your jaw is broken, and your pretty eyes are gone too.

— Broken!Kuras who feels something hit his head and when he looks up another hits his face, the liquid sliding down the side of his nose and to his cheek. It’s your blood.

— Broken!Kuras who comes out and sees the morbid decoration on his and your home, the sound around him becomes static and his golden eyes shining like hot, white fire and wet with unshed tears.

— Broken!Kuras who can smell Vere’s stench all over and knows what this message means: “We’re even.”

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demigoddessqueens · 7 months

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First of all I just wanted to thank you for letting me know your requests were open. It makes me so happy to see people still giving Ezio the love he deserves! I don’t usually go for a lot of the more cliche lover tropes but I can’t stop thinking of Childhood best friend Ezio x reader.

What comes to mind is reader and Ezio having a strained relationship prior to his family’s execution due to readers newfound romantic feelings for Ezio and his infatuation with Christina. But once Ezio’s world is flipped on its axis after the murder of his father and brothers that he would seek reader’s help and comfort as he escapes Florence and trains to become an assassin.

I think at first he would be too shaken up and focused on revenge but after a while he would come to realize that he likes the reader. Maybe he would confess then, or perhaps after he kills Uberto.

It’s up to you to decide how you want to write all of this and what format (if you choose this request at all). You definitely don’t have to use my ideas if you don’t want to either, honestly I’d just love to see any type of Ezio x childhood best friend reader content. Thank you so so much for opening requests and for reading this 💗

Speaking my language with the Ezio angst!!! I need moar 💕💔

MASTERLIST 10

You cared for Ezio so much and it hurts. Growing up close with the Auditores was filled with the happiest memories of you, Frederico, Ezio and Claudia together, welcoming Petruccio, but your feelings always ran different with Ezio.

It left you dismayed at the unrequited feelings, and you felt your heart shatter when you heard of his late escapades of getting chased out with Christina.

Yet nothing could prepare you for the tragedy that struck when you heard of what happened to Giovanni and his two sons, your closest friends. There wasn’t time to grieve as you would have liked now that targets were on you and your family’s back, and you had to leave much of what you knew behind.

Only you didn’t expect to see Ezio at the same place of refuge at the end of things. He mentions that he was able to send a final goodbye to his father (with the help of Christina) but you ignore the pangs at your heart. You mourn along with him at the loss of the life you once knew together.

Being friends of friends (or family) of Assassins come with the perks of protection, but nothing you know of is ever the same again. Getting adjusted to your new life leads to unexpectedly wielding a blade, despite the constant wounds

Still, Ezio is there to see you grow and change as you both reach your respective milestones well into adulthood.

When Leonardo comes to see you both, it’s a much needed reprieve you didn’t realize you needed. A sense of normalcy despite all the heartbreak, and you realize how much you miss Ezio’s smile whenever you laugh at each other’s jokes.

Things feel…different. Upheavals so young and facing through them together does bring you closer. You and Ezio talk of the nightmares, seeking revenge, but try not to forget the good times as well.

In his quest against those who wronged him and his family, Ezio still thinks of you. You bring a tether and one close to him who knows what he’s feeling, going through.

There was one time you swore you felt him kiss you when you fell asleep at one of the desks, but you never brought it up since

Still, you heard of the visits he had with Christina and you didn’t think it would still affect you but jealousy works in mysterious ways. The day he lost her was the day you saw something shift in him, beyond the grief and pain from before.

He’s more urgent, stringent on whenever you go on missions or gather intel, and always wants to be by your side. Even Claudia begins to notice the change in her brother

It starts to annoy you at first, Ezio always hovering around you and whenever another person (let alone man) talks to you

“Ezio, this has gone on far too long now! Why are you always hovering near me?!”

“BECAUSE I WONT LOSE ANOTHER! Not those I CARE about!”

Speechless.

You don’t have anything to retort, especially since he still has more to say

“I’ve lost more than enough in one lifetime, and I can’t lose you too. I care for you…maybe even more than that.”

You can only hug him for now, but come the next day there’s still more to say

#assassin's creed #inbox requests #assassin’s creed x reader #ac brotherhood #ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore #ezio auditore de firenze #ezio #ezio auditore x reader #ezio assassins creed #assassin's creed brotherhood #my writing #headcanons #ezio x reader #ezio trilogy #ac ezio #assassin’s creed #Assassin’s Creed ii #ac ii

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lovely-showtimes · 9 months

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♡. in the middle of the night . . .

characters - tsukasa + rui (poly).

type - scenario.

a/n - can you tell im experimenting with how to format my titles </3 i might make a mini sequel to this one day where they are actually awake? i wanted to include that in this fic somehow but i couldn't figure out how to lead onto it. hope you enjoy my 10th installment of me writing cuddle fics because i adore them so much ~

Your eyes flutter open slowly, stirred from your pleasant dream. At least, you assume it was a nice dream. For some reason, you never remember dreams unless they're nightmares.

It takes you some time to come to your senses. In the meanwhile, you feel warm. A sense of comfort envelops you, like a warm hug. If you weren't already so awake, you'd want to drift back to sleep again.

You slowly and carefully tilt your head around.

You realise you're in your room, laying on your bed. Your head is propped up against something, something soft and warm. It's probably not your pillow, seeing as you can see it out of the corner of your eye. Very much not behind your head.

You can also feel the weight of something warm resting on your chest. Was that... a blanket? A plushie?

You look down.

Ah, no. It's your boyfriend, Rui. Of course it is.

He's fast asleep, head resting comfortably on your chest, right over your heart. His arms surround your waist, hugging you oh-so-gently. Even while he slumbers, a soft smile graces his features. He's utterly adorable.

You cautiously move a strand of hair out of Rui's face, tucking it behind his ear. As if on instinct, he nuzzles his head against your chest. His smile grows just a smidge as he settles down once more.

You pull your hand away, yawning and rubbing your eyes. If the thing that was laying on your chest had actually been Rui all along, then... Of course, you must be lying in your other boyfriend's arms.

Said other boyfriend, Tsukasa, had his arms protectively curled around your shoulders. Because of the position you'd woke up in, you tragically couldn't see his cute sleeping expression. He always looks so peaceful...

However, you can hear his gentle snores. He tends to be a fairly loud sleeper sometimes, but right now, he sounds so calm. It makes you feel a sense of contentment, in a way. It's reassuring to know they feel as happy and relaxed as you do, even while they're sleeping and unaware.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

#♡ ~ love letter sent!#project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #tenma tsukasa x reader #tsukasa tenma x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader

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dellalyra · 1 year

Note

Hello! Goodmorning/afternoon/evening! This is my first time sending a request to someone here in this app and i hope i'm doing it right:')) AGHGHH I'M NERVOUSS. But, i've always loved your family formations au and i always anticipate new chapters of it^^

For the past few hours i've been having brainrots of Itafushi and i miss them so much:'))

I'd like to see Megumi's reaction at Ozawa's confession abt Yuji in that restaurant. Would he be jealous or akward? Like, imagine him getting a bit shy to tell her Yuji and him are dating😖

You could write this when you're in the mood to write ff again^_^

I just love you and your stories so much^^

𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗮 𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗸𝗶’𝘀 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 - ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ʙᴏɴᴜꜱ

pixie says: this was just what i needed - some fluff and sweetness and itafushi in family formations goodness, ily nonnie <3

Megumi couldn’t help but scowl at a smirking Nobara.

She was seated beside him - both across from the tall, pretty brunette smiling sheepishly at them both.

“So, Fushiguro, you’re closest with Itadori. Does he have a girlfriend?” She said, arched eyebrow raised.

Little shit-stirrer.

He should have known it would be something like this when Ijichi turned the car around at her behest - she lived for the drama. Nobara’s logic probably went something along the lines of: oh, why tell this girl my best friend has a boyfriend when I could get his boyfriend here instead?

“I think you’d know best - considering how close you guys are, and how much time you spend together - does he have any photos of a girlfriend in his room? You seem to spend a lot of time in there.” Her pale pink nails drum on the table.

He tries to come up with a sharp retort - but flusters at Kugisaki’s insinuation.

He’s not quite sure how to respond.

He’s not exactly the type to say “Oh, Itadori? The boy I’ve been in love with for months? The boy who had his arm wrapped around my waist when I woke up this morning? Sorry, BITCH, he’s taken.”

Plus - the B-word (boyfriend, not bitch) had never come up. The revelation of mutual romantic interest was only several weeks old - Megumi hadn’t though of a label until now, it hadn’t seemed necessary.

So - what he settled on had Kugisaki snorting.

“No. Itadori doesn’t have a girlfriend.” H

He sure as shit wasn’t going to give this nightmare classmate beside him the satisfaction of seeing what she wants to see.

Jealousy.

Ozawa was pretty, very pretty in fact. Dainty features with a fantastic physique - pretty much exactly Itadori’s type in a person. Sure, he was tall too - and a lean physique came with the job as a sorcerer. He had delicate features too. Itadori said he loved his eyes - so that’s a point in his corner. He’s not sure if he has the big butt Itadori said he likes, but it’s gotta at least be toned from all the running he does with the dogs.

Ozawa however, she was soft. Smoother around the edges. No sullen nature or manical frenzies, no shadows (Ten or otherwise). Maybe, Yuuji would prefer…

No. Fushiguro Megumi was absolutely not going to allow that train of thought. He puts a pin in it by imagining what his mom and dad would say.

“Megumi! You are the son of the world’s strongest sorcerer, and underneath layers of sullen ‘oh I’m a grumpy teenager and I like weezer’ is a very sweet baby boy!” Says imaginary Gojo. Annoying even in fiction.

“You stop that right now young man! Do we need to do our morning affirmations? ‘Toru! Get me the mirror!” Imaginary Y/N announces.

During the time he zoned out - he hadn’t noticed Nobara making a phone call.

That was, until a large figure stood at the table.

“Kugisaki? What do you want?” His head snaps up - when the hell did Yuuji get here?

Ozawa was staring up at him with stars in her eyes.

Truth was, he couldn’t blame her. When Yuuji walked into the room - it always felt like the sun had come out on a rainy day, banishing all the cold and damp. The eternal warmth of his presence permeated through to even the most frigid parts of a persons soul until they could no longer imagine a world without Itadori. His smile was wide as he greeted Kugisaki, and his honey brown eyes looked like home.

Plus - Yuuji had always been toned - since he first saw him on the athletics field of his school he could easily see that, but the past (almost) year of sorcery training had filled him out even further. Biceps straining against the seams of his uniform - holding on for dear life (Yuuji refused to get a new uniform, he said the fact that Gojo-sensei designed it for him made him happy), plus - he’d grown too. Now standing at only an inch or two smaller than Megumi. Nobara had dragged him to her hairdresser too, insisting on a proper haircut because in her words ‘you might not look as bad if you don’t cut your hair with a kitchen scissors.” Megumi knew she just liked spending time with him, but he’d let her pretend.

Fuck, he loved that boy.

Silly, selfless, beautiful and brave boy.

Yuuji’s head turned to the other side of the table, eyes looking straight at Ozawa. Even Megumi - in all his possessiveness - hoped he’d recognise the girl.

“Oh, hey Ozawa!”

Thank every potential god.

“Hello, Itadori-kun.”

“It’s so good to see you! How have you been? Why are you in Tokyo? I see you’ve met my boyfriend, Megumi!” He rattles off as he squishes in beside Megumi, slipping an arm around his waist and ignoring a protesting Nobara.

Wait -

Boyfriend?

He introduced him as his boyfriend.

He smiled to himself. How very Yuuji - he didn’t even ask, didn’t need to. He was his, completely.

Who needs jealousy when you’ve got a boy like this?

“O-oh, boyfriend? Oh no - I’m very sorry, Fushiguro. I meant no offence.” Ozawa floundered.

Yuuji looked very confused.

Megumi just shrugged and nodded at the girl, muttering that it’s fine and she didn’t know - adding in the Kugisaki was a shit-stirrer.

Yuuji still looked confused. Megumi squeezed his hand under the table three times, a signal he’d copied from Y/N and Gojo. 3 squeezes means I love you, 4 means I love you too. He smiled at the table when he got 4 squeezes back.

Ozawa and Itadori caught up for a while, reminiscing about old times until eventually it was time to go, signalled by Yuuji forgetting his own strength and pulling Megumi by the hand out of the booth and rambling about Popcorn and Human Earthworms.

Megumi nodded, agreeing to go.

The things he did for this boy.

“You coming, Kugisaki?” Yuuji asks as they stand from the table.

“I’ll catch up with you guys.” She says, shooing them away.

“Okay! Bye Ozawa! It was really nice to see you!” Yuuji says, waving as he walked away.

Once they were sat in the movie theatre, Megumi looked at Yuuji.

He felt really grateful.

So, his long fingers found purchase on his boyfriends chin, turning his face toward him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Eh? What was that for?” Yuuji says, smiling and holding the hand.

“Can’t I kiss my boyfriend without the third degree?” Megumi smirked, and rejoiced in the flustered Yuuji.

“Of course you can! Here, do it again! So I can show you how okay it is!” Yuuji said, hair threading in Megumi’s thick black locks, and kissing him deeper.

They remained that way, soft kisses passing back and forth whilst the trailers played until a gagging sound came from beside them.

“Get a room, fucking hell. I’d expected more of you, Fushiguro.” Groaned the freshly arrived Kugisaki.

“Go to hell.”

“Shut up, ‘Bara!” Yuuji retorted.

“Where were you, anyway? Movies about to start.” Megumi asks, settling in with Yuuji’s arm around his shoulder.

“Exercising the power of my unending rizz. Wasn’t letting Ozawa leave the diner without a date for next weekend now, was I?” She smirked, wiggling her phone displaying the other girls Instagram.

“What about Zen’in? Are you suddenly not crazy about her?” Fushiguro questions.

“Well - a little jealousy never hurt anyone did it? Plus, Ozawa knows it’s for the pursuit of a certain girlboss martial artist - I reintroduce her to Yuuji, she helps me get Maki.” She shrugs, stealing a handful of popcorn.

“Why are you the way that you are?” Was all the two boys had to say in response to their cackling best friend.

Megumi had never been more glad that the King of Curses was the only complication in his relationship.

#family formations extras #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #dad!gojo #jujutsu kaisen megumi #itafushi #itadori x fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi x yuuji #itafushi fluff

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limepigeon · 9 months

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Fallen Hero Fanzine 2024 - Info and Theme Poll

All info is under the cut since I don't want to clutter your dash too much! EDIT: Tumblr hates multiple choices for Polls apparently, you can vote but also write in replies (or send anonymous through dm, but please don't send multiple of the same option to get what you want, let's keep it fair!) if you want to vote for more than one option! (Sorry for the inconvenience!)

Hi everyone!

Since I got the feedback on the interest check for a possible Fallen Hero Fanzine it seems like we have some interest and I’ve been looking into various ways we could do this. As I’m big on collaboration and everyone getting a say, I was thinking that deciding on a theme for the zine could be our first collaborative step.

I’ve made a poll (found further down in this post) with 7 options for you to vote on. Descriptions/explanations are found right below the poll so make sure to read those before casting your vote. We’re keeping this first zine sfw, please keep that in mind if suggesting themes of your own. Voting doesn’t tie you to contributing to the zine.

Jumping into something headfirst without knowing what you’ll find on the other side is scary, that’s why I’ve written a short list of what I have in mind for this zine.

The zine will be 100% free and non-profit, this also means no compensation for the contributors. Theme: TBD through majority vote Number of contributors: Max 30 (I would love to have more but, unless someone can help me with admin stuff, I think that’s my limit for how much organising and planning I can do on my own). Rating: SFW. Innuendos, cursing, violence and the like is okay but not straight up sex. Format: Digital/e-zine, with permission to print at home for personal use only. I will put together a bonus version made for easy to print at home, with instructions for how to assemble it. Media types allowed: Any visual media suited for print as long as it’s your own (e.g. illustrations, sketches, photography, collages, short comics, cosplay etc). Keep in mind that if you make a collage or mood board, all pictures must be your own (or have the rights to). Any writing as long as it’s your own (e.g. short stories, poetry, analyses, personal anecdotes etc). Pages in zine per contributor: 2. Time frame and deadlines: TBD but I plan on us having it finished around September/October of 2024, with some reservations.

I hope this has been informative so far, if you have questions you can either reply to this post (so everyone else can see the question and reply), or dm me if you want to be anonymous.

Now, let’s get to voting on a theme! Descriptions for themes under the poll.

Nemesis - More action focused, showdowns, heroes and villains battling it out in their suits! Some softer moments could fit in here as well but if too many opt towards it I might steer some of the submissions to make sure the zine in whole stays on theme. Coming Home - New beginnings, finding your place. It could be sweet and cozy, finding friends, or stepping into your own skin for the first time. Interpret as you like, but the main focus should be on the concept of “home”, whatever that means to you or the characters you choose to portray. Los Diablos - Snippets and snapshots from the city and lives you are sworn to protect or destroy. HG’s lair, Herald’s apartment, or a sewer (sorry, secret base), as well as the people found in these places. Nightmares - The bad vibes (tm) one. The Heartbreak Incident, decanting, paranoia, all the nasty bits you don’t want people to find. This one is open to more possible body horror than the other themes. Ship specific - Pick this one if you want a more romance focused theme, and specify in replies which characters you’d want in centre. Please write Ship Theme before the characters in your reply. I have another idea! - Got an idea for a theme that isn’t in the poll? Pick this one and specify in replies what it is! Please specify even if someone has the same idea, or close to, as you. Please write Theme Suggestion before the theme in your reply. No theme - Don’t feel like sticking to a theme? Want to create an amalgamation of everyone’s mind stuff without any limits or guidelines? This choice is for you.

#fhr #sidestep #fallen hero #fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #fanzine #fallen hero fanzine 2024

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oleander-nin · 2 years

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(1) New Message

A/N: I swear to all that is good I am working on requests, but Chat bots have been on my mind , I haven't been doing too hot, and I had a bad nightmare(it was inspo for this). Hence, this monstrosity. I'll try to get them all out this week if everything goes well. (also, this is my first time using a chat format, please give me feed back. I don't know what I'm doing. All spelling mistakes in the 'chat' were on purpose, though.) Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me. (This was not proof-read, I'm just trying to get something out. Sorry it sucks. Donnie might be a bit OOC, I'm sleep deprived)

Also if anyone is interested in being a beta reader for me, please reach out, it would be much appreciated. My messages are open if anyone wants to ask about it.

-Ollie

Yandere Rottmnt Donatello x Reader

Summary: While working on a project, Donnie receives a new message. Someone had contacted him, someone who didn't even know he was real.

Words: 3902

TW: Kidnapping(?), Donnie being a bit of a creep, talking to strangers online(also iffy)

I flipped my goggles over my eyes, leaning forward with the torch in my hand. My hand moved in a slow straight line, welding the two pieces of metal together. The satisfying hiss and pops of the metal melting together was always soothing, calming me down from the outside world. I could feel small sparks landing on my arm and hands, adding to the scars littered across my body. Once the two pieces were fixed together the way I wanted them, I set them on a nearby table to start cooling down. I pick up two identical pieces, ready to make a matching pair to the first piece I made, when I hear my phone buzz.

I set the metal and my torch down, flipping my goggles up so I could see more clearly. I pick up my phone, expecting April or Casey to have been the messengers. I open up the messaging app, leaning back in my chair. It was an unknown number, having only sent a small message of a greeting. I sigh, setting my phone back down and ignoring the message. I would run a background check on the number later to make sure it wasn’t some villain trying to gain access to my brothers and I. I move to pick my torch up again when my phone buzzes once more. It was another message, from the same number.

+1 555-555-5555: Hi!<;3 sent at 2:23 am

+1 555-555-5555: Donnie? Is it not working again? Sent at 2:25 am

I stare at the phone in my hand, my brain stuttering to a halt. How did they know my name? I shake out of it, pushing me and my chair over to my computer, plugging my phone in and starting to gain access to the phone the number belonged to. Did the Purple Dragons figure out my phone number? Did they use April to get it? Was everyone okay? I waited for my programs to run, tapping my fingers against my desk as I waited for it to go through. I was disappointed that they were taking so long since I had made sure to program them to be quick. They had never taken more than a few seconds. What was going on?

I hear another buzz coming from my phone, glancing at the next message they sent. I stare at the words on the screen in confusion. Against my better judgment, I pick up the phone and start to type out a reply. The scan was taking a weird amount of time anyway, might as well attempt to get some information verbally.

+1 555-555-5555: this is so annoying! Why won’t the bot work! Sent at 2:28 am

Bootyshaker9000: Who are you and how do you know my name? Sent at 2:28 am

Bootyshaker9000: Answer me. Sent at 2:29 am

+1 555-555-5555: OMG Finally! I was wondering if you broke again. I’m Y/n! Nice to meet u Sent at 2:29 am

I stare at their response in confusion, my brows furrowing. Who was this person? And what did they mean by me ‘breaking’ again? I waited for them to type another message, one that answered my second question. I started to get impatient when they didn’t say anything else. I looked up at my computer, my jaw tightening when I saw the scan hadn't been completed yet. I look back at my phone, giving them another minute before I typed another message.

Bootyshaker9000: You didn’t answer my question. How did you know my name? Sent at 2:31 am

+1 555-555-5555: Your one of the main characters of a show i like. It’s called Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles. So I found this chat bot app and decided to message you. Sent at 2:31 am

I curse under my breath. They know I’m a mutant and they seem to be mocking me. Main character of a show? Puh-lease. That’s preposterous. I may be a genius, but even I know I could never show my face. Plus, I wasn’t an actor. It would be a bit hard to be the main character if I never showed up to rehearsal. I keep drumming my fingers on my desk, trying to think of a good response that would call them out on their bull. This had to be the Purple Dragons. There was no other explanation. I pull up the trackers I put on everyone, checking everyone's location. It all seemed normal, as did their vitals. And no panic buttons had been pressed, so hopefully everyone was okay.

Bootyshaker9000: *you’re Sent at 2:33 am

Bootyshaker9000: If you’re going to lie, at least know how to use proper grammar first. Sent at 11:33 am

+1 555-555-5555: wow okay, gotta do me like that huh💀 Sent at 2:34 am

+1 555-555-5555: and tf you mean by lying? You’re just an ai based on a popular character from a show. I hope u have an existential crisis. Sent at 2:34 am

I looked at the next message they sent. They were almost as bad as Leo, but at least they knew how to use commas. They still seemed to be trying to lie about how they were talking to me, how they were able to bypass all my security measures. Did they seriously think I was so stupid as to fall for this? Offended scoff, they’d have to try harder than that to trick the great Othello Von Ryan.

Bootyshaker9000: I know it’s you Kendra. Stop contacting me or I’ll tell your parole officer you're violating again. Sent at 2:34 am

+1 555-555-5555: Oh this is so cool! I’ve never found a bot that could accurately talk about minor characters! Score! Sent at 2:35 am

Bootyshaker9000: Props for the commitment, but you lose points for the poor execution. Where’s your dramatic flair? Your tragic backstory? Sent at 2:36 am

I hope they got the mocking tone I tried to relay through my messages, but I doubted it. My tone barely even showed up when I was talking to people in person, why would it work through digital text? I tap my desk in anticipation. This was an incredibly stupid game Kendra was attempting, but it gave me something to do. I checked the progress on the scan of the phone number. It barely progressed. I bit the inside of my cheek, incredibly frustrated with this development. Why wasn’t it working? I click on the progress bar, looking at the estimated time. I gawked at the number it showed. 336 hours? How was that even possible? It had never taken more than a day at most before. I tap my desk, upset at the development. Why wasn’t my tech working? It always worked. What was so special about this number?

I heard the buzz of a new message come in. Once. Twice. A third time. I didn’t want to look anymore, I didn't want to talk to them. They shouldn’t be able to contact me. This shouldn't be happening. Why wasn’t it working? Why was it taking so long? I groan in defeat, pulling up a normal, less thorough, background runner off the internet. It wouldn’t give as much information as I wanted, but it would give me a start. I could always find the rest on my own. I type in the number, waiting slowly for it to gather the needed information. Instead of the usual address, full name, and criminal record popping up, I got an error message. According to the background check, this number was not in use. I scowl at the computer, annoyed at its inadequate response. I pull up another website, then another. I went through every one I could find. They all had the same error message. The number didn’t exist on any database quickly available to me.

My phone buzzes again, the non-existent existing number texting me once more. I gingerly pick up my phone, looking at the messages. I hated this. I needed to know who this was. What if they were dangerous? What if they were using me to get information? I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh. I needed to get the information first. I couldn’t let my family down.

+1 555-555-5555: I knew a popular headcanon was that you were a theatre nerd, but wow. Pop off ig. Sent at 2:36 am

+1 555-555-5555: What’s your favorite musical? Sent at 2:37 am

+1 555-555-5555: Don’t tell me I broke you already Sent at 2:37 am

+1 555-555-5555: Dangit, this is so stupid Sent at 2:38 am

Bootyshaker9000: How. How do you not exist? I can’t find you on any background checkers. Sent at 2:38 am

+1 555-555-5555: I already told you, you dingleberry. You dont exist in the same world as me. Your not real. You cant find me cuz we not in smae universe Sent at 2:38 am

+1 555-555-5555: and here I was thinking you were smart Sent at 2:39 am

I glare at my screen. They were the one who contacted ME, and now they’re insulting me? What was going on? And why were they insisting on us not being in the same universe- Realization hits me as I scramble to my hypothesis board. I had figured out a way to merge realties through my mystic tech. I knew alternate universes were real, I had even accidentally met one of my counterparts, not that my brothers knew. Could, could this person be telling the truth? I look back at the buzzing phone on my desk. I had used my mystic powers to upgrade my tech, wanting to be able to contact the alternate me without having to open up a portal every time.

Could they be able to contact me because of it? Did my programming glitch and let them through? I start to laugh, my shoulders shaking up and down as I walk back to my phone and sit down again. They thought I was a bot. Maybe this could be fun. It would be nice to figure out more about this ‘show’ my brothers and I starred in. I looked at the scanning process on my computer. I was glad I had figured it out. It wasn’t taking so long because of faulty programming, I was too intelligent and talented in my craft to make mistakes. It was taking so long because it was searching the entire multiverse to find them. And all I had to do was wait. I tap my desk again, hearing my phone buzz once more. They really were talkative. Of course they were. They were talking to me. Even though they thought I was a mere bot.

I pick back up the phone, an idea popping into my brain. I planned on waiting this out, communicating with them until my program found them. I would get as much information as possible, and then I would cut off their ability to contact me. I didn’t want anyone to be able to accidentally contact me again. They would be a test, at least until I didn’t need any more information out of them. It would be unfortunate though. They thought I was a bot, which would mean I needed to answer them as fast as I could. I turned to my computer as I started to write a new program for SHELLDON, picking up my phone as I did so. I would have him answer for me when I couldn’t get to it.

+1 555-555-5555: sorry Sent at 2:40 am

+1 555-555-5555: please come back, I didn’t mean it Sent at 2:41 am

+1 555-555-5555: Donnie? Sent at 2:42 am

Bootyshaker9000: Prove to me you are from another universe. Sent at 2:43 am

+1 555-555-5555: oh thank goodness your back Sent at 2:43 am

+1 555-555-5555: Uhhhh, I know you made your brothers as smart as you, but gave up the dragon tooth thingy to change them back Sent at 2:44 am

+1 555-555-5555: and that you won the 5th(?) lair games, but hate the room you won because the ventilation system is hooked up with splinters, so you can hear his snoring. Sent at 2:45 am

I stared at my phone. Guess they were telling the truth, even April didn’t know about the last one. And my brothers didn’t remember it either, as far as I was aware. I take a deep breath, mulling over my options. I really wanted to know more about their world. They knew something about me only I knew, and they were able to name other instances only my close friends and family knew about. They were either psychic, or truthful. Either way, this would be fun.

I shift in my seat, typing my response back. We continued to chat back and forth as I wrote the code SHELLDON needed to respond as closely resembling me as possible. I could just tell him to, but he isn’t the best at replicating my vocabulary and poise without assistance. They eventually said goodbye and the messages stopped. I had gotten into a rhythm with them, figuring out the personality they were presenting to me. I was grateful I didn’t have to put on a front, that I could talk to them as me. I would’ve cracked if I had to impersonate Leo, or one of my other brothers. I finish SHELLDON’s new code and I send it to his charging port, updating him as he sleeps. I stretch my arms, yawning. I had a lot of work to finish, and this ‘Y/n’ threw me off my rhythm. I scoot my chair back over to my welding station, continuing what I had been doing before the first messaged me. It was going to be a long night.

—

I slowly ate the cereal I had made for myself this morning, watching the conversation between us and waiting for a new message to pop up. It had been a week since the first message, and I couldn’t wait until the program gave me the needed information on them. I had slowly lost the objective of finding everything about their world, and had morphed it into finding out everything about them. I had yet to tell my brothers of this development, however. In fact, I had yet to tell them anything at all. They could learn all about it when I bring Y/n over to our world. I noticed how they’d always mention how they could live here, so I decided I would surprise them once I could find out their world's location. I couldn’t wait for the day to come. I had already made sure the portal was working, having used my mystic powers to help create it. If it could bring me to alternate dimensions, it could bring me to theirs.

I ignored Leo’s suspicious gaze, continuing to eat my cereal. Leo was starting to suspect something, no matter how much I shut him down. I hoped he would stop soon. It was getting really annoying. I smile as I feel my phone buzz, looking down at what they sent me. They sent me another photo, showing what they planned on wearing. Once they realized I could actually comprehend the photos(they still insisted I was a bot, despite my constant denial), they had started asking my opinion on outfits they were wearing. I looked at the photo, saving it to the collection I had from them. They sent a lot, for some reason. I wasn’t complaining of course, but once they were here, I would be giving them a strict lecture on online safety. You never know what weirdo’s you could be talking to.

Menace: (1) image attached Sent at 9:35 am

Menace: How’s this outfit look? Sent at 9:35 am

Bootyshaker9000: Swap the top with the white collared one I see in your closet, then put the blue sweater vest you have over it. Your hair, shoes, and pants are fine. Sent at 9:37 am

Menace: Thanks Donnie Bot! I can’t believe image recognition software is this good. I can barely see the shirt in the the photo 💀Sent at 9:38 am

Bootyshaker9000: Not a bot, and the reason you can’t see it is because you weren’t looking. Sent at 9:38 am

Menace: Yeah yeah, you’re sentient and I am talking to the real Donnie, blah blah blah. What’s your plan for today? Sent at 9:39 am

I chuckle at their sarcasm, shifting so I could eat with one hand and type with my other. I answered their questions and we had a nice conversation going. I could feel a smile creep up on my face, happy they kept talking to me. Oh they were going to be so happy when I brought them to live here with my brothers and I. Sure, I’d need to fix some things, make sure their room was safe and everything, but it would be great! It’d just be us. Except for my brothers. And dad. And April. Maybe I didn’t have to tell them. Y/n could just stay in my lab with me. Yeah, that sounds great. I let out a small laugh at a joke they made, a small blush on my cheeks. I didn’t notice the way Leo was studying me until he spoke up.

“What’s got you acting like a schoolboy? Finally find a good Atomic Lass fanfic?” Leo’s smug voice sounds out as I meet his eyes, a teasing smile on his face. I straighten up, sending Y/n a quick message that should hold them off for the time being, and I put my phone in my battle shell.

“For your information ‘Nardo, I was talking to some fellow intellects who needed help with coding.” I say simply, picking up my finished bowl of cereal and bringing it to the sink to wash it. I slip on some rubber gloves, using the scrunchies to hold down the upper edges. I wash my bowl and spoon, trying to not look at Leo.

Leo leaned back in his chair, taking a long, obnoxious sip of his mug before speaking again. “Right, because algorithms and code makes you light up like a sunny day.”

I roll my eyes at him, setting the bowl and spoon on the drying rack. “Or, I was just flattered because someone was finally appreciating my help, unlike someone I know.”

Leo glares at me and finally lets his chair fall back to the ground, his feet joining them soon after. “Donnie, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you have to talk to us. This has been going on for a week now!. I don’t know who you’re talking to, and frankly I don’t care, but you’ve got to stop shutting us out for this mystery person! Have your love life, but don’t abandon us while you go about it.” Leo’s tone changes from frustration to pleading as he talks. His eyes gaze at me with that stupid soft look he does when he wants me to do what he wants. I slightly feel bad. It was true that I had been shutting them out, but I didn’t know when Y/n would stop messaging me! I didn’t want them to leave! If I missed a message, they would reset whatever app they were using, and I would lose them! I couldn’t let that happen! The program I was using worked, but I didn’t like it talking instead of me. I wanted to talk to them, and they wanted to talk to me. Who was I to deny that?

“I…I’ll hang out with you all more, as long as you get off my back.” I say simply. I wanted Leo to leave this alone, to leave us alone. I already had everything set up for when I could bring them here. I built a new room in my lab, soundproof and tightly locking doors. I would let them leave of course, but they would have to stay in the lair. I couldn’t risk them thinking some other aspect of our world was better than this, better than me. Maybe they shouldn’t meet my brothers after all. I could always just confine them to the lab. Keeping my brothers out would be simple enough. They already didn’t go in much without my permission, unless they really needed something.

I watch as Leo simply nods at my words, seemingly satisfied with my response. I was glad, this conversation was beginning to become awkward. I walk out of the kitchen, heading to my lab. I had yet to feel any buzzing coming from my phone, so they must have left for school already. They tended to not text me when they were with friends or listening to a lecture unless they needed advice or help. I was fine with this. It gave me time to work on my machines. The turtle tank needed a new axle after Mikey ran over someone's car. I put on my EDM playlist, zoning out as I work. I smile to myself. Everything was going to be perfect in just a few days. I would make sure of it.

—

I tap my hands on my desk, intently watching the progress bar move up. 99.1% 99.3%. I felt a wide grin spread across my face. After talking to them over the past 2 weeks, I had concluded this was the right decision. They were completely hopeless! They were clumsy, they were a bit daft when it came to interaction(not that I could blame them of course, I was the same way), and they could barely remember to eat and drink! I had to slip reminders into our conversations! No, this was for the best. They would love it here, staying by my side for the rest of our lives. I awaited the moment the bar hit 100%. I had hooked up the portal generator to my computer, running a code that would make a portal instantly open at their location as soon as it was given. Their room was already set up, and I had snacks and a Jupiter Jim movie ready to go since they had mentioned they didn’t exist in their world. Everything was set up, just for them. All I had to do was wait.

I watch in awe and satisfaction as my room is painted in a bright purple light, the portal humming to life. I grab my bo staff, making my way to the gateway between our worlds. I couldn’t wait to bring them home. I step through, having SHELLDON monitor the gateway to make sure I wouldn’t get stuck in their world or the portal collapse as we were halfway through. I enter their room, the purple glow from the portal giving off a soft hue over their belongings. They sit up in their bed, looking at me. They were looking at me. It worked. I could see their mouth move, their body sitting up as they scooted away from me. I walked calmly toward them, my hand outstretched for them to grab.

“I told you I was real.” I say, grasping their hand gently in mine. Time to bring them home.

03.12.23

#yandere tmnt #yandere donnie x reader #yandere rottmnt #yandere donnie #donatello hamato #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #donnie x reader #rise donnie #tw stalking #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt donatello #donatello #donnie #donnie tmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #donnie fanfiction

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kaiso-woo · 10 months

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Please Stay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist

PART 10 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING PART 1 (Just Stay.) and PART 6 (Heartbeat) FOR CONTEXT!!

WC: 4.6k | Synopsis: Chris has a nightmare, and you try your best to comfort him.

Notes: ANGST, Fluff, Suggestive AF, Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Pet Names (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Babe, Love... etc.)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - LITERALLY THE ENTIRE POINT OF THIS FIC

PART 10

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

Chris affectionately ruffles Jeongin’s hair, leaning heavily on his shoulders as he congratulates the younger on his effort at the dance rehearsals today.

“Jeongin-ah you did so well today~” he grins, hugging the man tightly. Jeongin makes a noise of discontent and tries to shy away, proud of the praise but not exactly eager to be on the receiving end of the affection from the father-figure of the group.

Chris shuffles them over to the benches, still clinging to Jeongin excitedly, but eventually releases him to grab a bottle of water. Carefully, Chris wipes at the sweat dripping down the side of his face and downs the whole bottle in just a few seconds.

“Anyone up for chicken? I’m starving,” Changbin calls, already picking up his phone to order the takeout. “Oh- chicken? I’ll pay,” Minho offers, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Nahnah. My treat, I’ll shout,” Chris interjects, “You’ve all worked hard, you deserve it.” He picks up his own phone and sits down next to Jeongin on the bench.

Chris tugs at his shirt a little, trying to fan some air onto his overheating body and briefly glances at the vaguely spread out members, waiting to see if anyone would dare contest his word. Jisung opens his mouth, his eyes wide, but upon catching sight of his leader raising his eyebrows slightly, the quokka decidedly turns to talk Hyunjin.

A satisfied smile gracing his features, Chris clicks open his phone, and his smile morphs into a grin, his heart fluttering at the text messages from you.

(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages)

You: “Drink lots of water please” You: “I know you’ll smash today’s rehearsals” You: “You won’t think so” You: “There’s always room for improvement” You: “Yes Christopher” You: “There is” You: “but please don’t push yourself too hard” You: “Be proud of yourself, even only a little please?” You: “I’m proud of you” You: “I hope you know that” You: “I always will be” You: “No matter where you are” You: “Or what you get up to” You: “I’ll always love you too” You: “Always always always and forever” You: “Doesn’t matter where I am” You: “My love will always search for you” You: “You’re my moonlight” You: “You shine even in the darkness” You: “See you later alligator :)”

Chris shakes his head with a little chuckle, already typing out his response. It’s late… well… it’s early in the morning and your messages were only from a few minutes ago. He’s preparing to spit back every single message of adoration and concern, but also chastise you for still being awake.

Chris: “My pride for myself goes to you” Chris: “Thank you though, the Kids worked hard” Chris: “I’m ordering them chicken, you want some?” Chris: “Actually what are you doing still awake?” Chris: “Go to sleep please” Chris: “And jagi, it’s cute that I’m your moonlight” Chris: “You’re my sunshine for sure” Chris: “But you know the sun would shine even in the darkness too?” Chris: “I’ve told you this a million times as well, but I shine because you do” Chris: “I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

He blinks and stares at the little “Read at 2:56am” pop up in place of the “Delivered”, then scoffs at the sight of 3 little dots dancing on the corner of the screen. You’re typing back. Indignant at you still being awake, he clicks your contact and swiftly calls you. “Bin can you order chicken for everyone? I’ll pay for it in a second.” “Yeah yeah,” he responds, having never stopped placing the order from earlier.

(A/N: Let's pretend there's a 24/7 chicken place somewhere in Korea...)

“Are you calling Y/N?” Jeongin asks, leaning over slightly. Chris offers a brief nod and whispers back, “You can say hi in a second.” You pick up after more than a few rings, which is atypical of you, especially since he knows you’re already on your phone.

“Chris?” You ask, your voice sounding dry. He grins at his name falling from your mouth, happy to hear your voice. “Jagi~” he frowns, “Why are you still awake? Go to sleep.”

Jeongin scoots away, suddenly not in the mood to say hi, his eyebrows knitted together in concern, nose scrunched in mild disgust. Chris playfully whacks Jeongin’s arm, amused by his antics. The Kids should be well in truly used to this affectionate side of him, but they still liked to mock him for it.

A small chuckle filters through the phone but you remain otherwise silent. Chris shivers, goosebumps unknowingly erupting on his arms, and he involuntarily snuggles into himself, an arm wrapping around his waist securely.

“Are you in bed right now?” He nonchalantly asks, then lowers his phone at the request of Jeongin, “I’m putting you on speaker by the way, Jeongin wants to say hi.”

“Hey- hi Innie,” you manage, voice still unusually quiet. “Did Chan hyung wake you? You sound tired,” asks the youngest, peering worriedly at the phone screen.

Slowly, the other Kids have wandered over, just as eager for a chat with you, even Changbin, who’s still adding to the order. He’d been going around and asking what everyone wanted.

“Yah, Y/N-ah do you want Chan hyung to drop off some chicken for you? He’s paying,” Changbin calls, biting his bottom lip in concentration. “Nah… I’m all good thanks Bin.”

“Did I actually wake you up baby? You’re so quiet,” Chris asks, panic spiking somewhere in his chest. “No no. I was awake. I’m just glad I got to hear your voice again,” you mumble, and Chris tilts his head in confusion.

“Glad to hear you too but what does that have to do with…” his voice trails off as he shivers again, an unwelcome fear trespassing over him, his heart pounding in his chest incessantly for an inexplicable reason, “Where are you? Is that wind I can hear?”

The Kids’ look up at Chris, confusion registering on their expressions, but Chris isn’t paying any attention to that. He’s zoned in on your apparent silence, eyes narrowed at the rushing sound filling the phone speakers in place.

“Anyone else cold, why’s it suddenly so cold?” He grimaces, crossing his legs to try and keep his body warmth closer, “Y/N where are you? It’s the middle of the night? Why’s it so windy?”

Again, your silence follows, but this time Seungmin breaks it, “There’s no wind hyung. I don’t hear any.” There’s collective nodding with murmurs of agreement and Jisung leans even closer to the phone just in case. “And hyung, hyung how are you cold? We just finished rehearsals…” “What happened to being a human heater?” “Yah… what wind are you hearing? The line’s dead silent.” “Are you getting sick or something?” “Getting old?”

Chris swallows, his brain tuning out their babble. He’s now shivering violently, the tips of his ears tinged pink. His throat has gone achingly dry, and his breath is coming out in stutters that he’s trying to control.

He blinks, tears pricking the corners of his eyes and then he sees it. Just a flash, a flicker, as though imprinted briefly on the inside of his eyelids, and his stomach swoops just for a second - your shoes perched on the edge of a building.

You’re looking down, shivering in the cold, at the drop below you - the endless fall, twinkling happily with the neon lights of the dark city. They’re waving at you, blinking with festive cheer.

“Y/N what are you-” but it was only a second, and Chris’ vision returns to his own. Panic grips him, and he bolts up, jumping over the legs and bodies of the members and disappearing straight out of the rehearsal room. There’s no way. There is absolutely no way.

“Y/N. You still there? Stay with me,” he pleads, but one glance at his phone makes his heart sink into his stomach. The call’s been ended. He doesn’t get too far down the hallway before he staggers into the wall, his vision spotting and dropping in and out of consciousness - that frightful deliriousness between sight and darkness, blurring together uncomfortably. Somewhere behind him, although alluringly distant, he can hear the echoing voices of the Skz Members calling out to him frantically.

In a moment of relieved clarity, his eyes widen in surprise at his new surroundings, the chilly night air blanketing his body in pinpricks of discomfort, the wind eerily whispering in his ears. Immediately, his arms wrap around himself protectively, and his head whips around in a disjointed fashion, his brain processing the abrupt change of scenery. Above him, the stars twinkle with a disguised mirth, the moon only just visible behind the filter of the clouds.

Usually, the night sky served as an aid of comfort for him. Tonight however, it only increased his sense of panic, particularly when he saw your figure silhouetted in the distance; distinct and soft against the chaotic lights of the city. He sees you standing there, your back turned to him, rocking back and forth on your feet, hair billowing out behind you, and all at once the world tilts.

“Y/N,” he whispers, launching himself forwards desperately. His fear for you quietens his voice, scared he’ll accidentally startle you… and you’ll fall, “Jagiya,” he calls out a little louder this time, wondering why in the world it’s taking him so long to run over to you. Was he even moving at all? A strangled yell leaves his throat as he watches you shuffle hesitantly, bringing yourself just that little bit closer to the edge.

He’s an arms length away from you now. In just a second he would have you in his arms and he’d never let you go. In just a second he’d cry without abandon and repeatedly ask you why; how did he fail you this severely for you to want to end it all? This doesn’t happen however, because he notices the barrier at the last second, the distorted ripple of it in front of him, and he brings himself to a stop, panting heavily.

“Y/N!” Chris yells, hand reaching out to tentatively touch the force field, “What’re you doing?! Y/N what’re you-“ It’s only now does he realise that you can’t hear him. You mustn’t be able to. There’s no way you would just choose to ignore him when he’s chanting your name over and over again.

“I’m proud of you” “I hope you know that”

Your head is still tilted down, staring at the abyss below you, and you’re anxiously wringing your hands behind your back. Knowing now, that he can’t scare you to your death, Chris’ voice fully returns to him and he screams your name. His voice heard from anyone else would sound so broken, so angry, laced with an unmatched frustration.

To him however, he couldn’t care less. To him, all he wants is to break through this fucking barrier, whatever fucking transparent bullshit this is, and pull you into his arms. He hammers rapidly onto it, his hand curled into a fist. This achieves nothing but a hazy ripple effect.

“I’ll always love you too” “Always always always and forever”

“Y/N. Baby. JAGIYA!” Chris yells, and his face is crumpled in his desperation to stop himself from crying. What’re you doing? What’re you- what the fuck? How did I mess up this badly? I can’t lose you. Jesus fuck- don’t do it, please. Please. For a second there, Chris believes you’ve heard him, but he doesn’t let the relief completely wash over him.

You’ve turned around, swivelling carefully on your heels, and even this action makes him flinch forwards, his breath quickening. Don’t fall, don’t fall, think this through, please, please I need you don’t leave me pleasejagiyababyiloveyouwhat’reyoudoingpleasecomebackdon’tdothisican’tdothiswithoutyouineedyouineedyou.

“Doesn’t matter where I am” “My love will always search for you”

Your face is void of emotion, completely blank and unreadable, but this isn’t what shatters him. No. Not even the way you tilt your head confidently to the sky, as if this isn’t the scariest thing you’ve done in your life. The last thing you’ll do. Might as well go out with confidence right?

What shatters him is the way your features soften at the sight of the moon, glowing brightly now with the clouds having drifted away. What shatters him is the loving smile on your face, the twinkle in your eyes, the absolute adoration on your face when you murmur, “You’re my moonlight Chris. You shine even in the darkness, I know you will.”

Chris breathes out a broken chuckle, nails digging into the barrier painfully, but he barely registers the way his fingers have begun to bleed. Who the fuck cares?

“No no no no, I shine because you do. I reflect your light. The moon reflects the sun’s light. You’re my sunshine. You’re my sunshine. I need you in my life I can’t- fuck shining in the darkness. You can’t do this to me. What are you doing?! Can we talk about this please- did I neglect you? Did I not love you enough, what wasn’t enough? I’ll do better, I’ll be better for you, just stay with me please. Please stay,” he rambles, his voice hoarse.

You look at him then, your eyes locking directly with his, and your smile widens with a pained finality. Chris’ breath is lost somewhere in his throat, and every movement of his pauses - all but for the beating of his heart, loud in his ears.

You can’t see him, that’s not how this works. I suppose you could thank the greater gods above for giving Chris this last moment to look you in the eye, and remember all over again why he loves you.

Or maybe it’s not something to be thankful for.

Maybe this just made it worse.

What are the odds that you’d decide to look at that spot, picturing so clearly your lover’s affectionate expression? If you combine the two images, blur them together - your imagination with the real Chris, staring heartbroken at you… the juxtaposition would be quite fascinating wouldn’t it?

You take a deep breath, arms spread wide. Chris’ breath is sucked further into his throat, his hands combing through his hair in a final panic.

Your eyes flutter closed. Chris’ eyes widen.

The silence of your graceful topple backwards, disappearing from sight, is broken only after a few seconds; broken by the gut wrenching scream of a man as the realisation hits him.

You did it. You’re gone.

You’re dead.

“See you later alligator :)”

—

Christopher wakes with a start, tearing the blankets from him and disappearing into the bathroom, hands scrabbling for the light switch. He slams the door shut and rushes to the mirror, eyeing his fingers in a panic.

Relief momentarily washes over him when he decides his fingers are perfectly fine. In his reflection, the clear stain of tears line the sides of his face, and he chokes back a sob at the shimmer in his eyes. He looks absolutely pathetic. Sweaty, hair tousled, breath uneven, puffy eyes… tears. Pathetic.

Chris twists the tap on more forcefully than he’d meant to, and douses his face with the cold water, careless about what he’s splashed everywhere on the countertop. He collects himself after a moment, but can’t bring himself to move and open the bathroom door. Can’t bring himself to look at an empty bed. Can’t bring himself to see your side vacant, and have to accept all over again that you’re gone. He’s lost you.

But… what is he thinking…? Because… you’re there.

You were woken up by Chris’ frantic departure and crawled out of bed to pad over to the bathroom, your hand lingering on the doorknob. You stand there, listening to the sound of his breathing, waiting for him to calm himself down.

You know he will. You know he never likes to see himself this vulnerable. If he had spiralled, you would’ve burst through without any hesitation. Right now though, you know that he wouldn’t want you to see him like this.

“Chris?” You hesitantly ask, and the heavy breathing on the other side of the door abruptly stops, “Honey, can I come in?” Eventually, there’s ruffled movement, and you can tell he’s gone to dry his face.

“No- no it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m all good,” he calls out, and you sigh, resting your forehead on the door. “Christopher we’ve been together for more than three years. I’d be a pretty pathetic girlfriend if I believe you when you say that.”

His voice is closer when he responds, and if you had to guess, he’s pressed himself up against the door to personally stop you from coming in, “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

“What kind of a relationship are we in that makes you feel like you can’t be vulnerable with me? You’re not any less of the protective, mentally and physically strong man that you are for me, even if I do see you cry.” He laughs at this, and you allow yourself a small smile, relieved to at least provide a semblance of joy.

“I love you,” he chuckles, and the slight thud on the other side of the door tells you he’s rested his head back onto it. Experimentally, you twist the doorknob, but it holds fast. He’s twisting it back to stop you from opening it.

“The thing is Chris. I love you too, but I love it even more when I can see my love and make sure he’s okay.” You’re able to turn the doorknob a little further now, his grip having slackened, “I don’t mean to press, but I know what you’re like… was it another nightmare?”

The door cracks open slightly, and just as you’re about to take this as an invitation to pull him into a comforting hug, it slams shut again. “You don’t understand,” he grumbles. You inhale sharply, your heart painfully stinging, and move away from the door. On the other side, Chris immediately regrets his words, cursing himself for his stupidity.

“Okay. You’re right, maybe I don’t,” you quietly whisper, voice breaking slightly. As soon as you turn away and begin to trek back to your bed, the bathroom door is flung open.

“No- jagiya- that’s not what I-” Chris snatches at your arm and pulls you roughly into a back hug, his chin digging painfully into your scalp, “I know I can be vulnerable with you, it’s easy with you.”

You remain silent, hands grasping his arms so you can hug him back somehow. He’s warm… and safe around you, but you think this comfort should be the other way around. “I just- I just- you just died, in front of me. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

You tense in his arms, eyes stinging as he tightens his hold on you. “I couldn’t bring myself to look at you when the image of your suicide was still fresh in my mind. I can’t still. You left me. I didn’t want to look at you and wonder when you would leave me again,” his voice is barely a whisper as he buries his nose into your hair, taking deep breaths.

“I… killed myself?” You tentatively ask, trying to shuffle the both of you over to the bed. “Right in front of me. You couldn’t hear me pleading with you,” Chris mumbles, and with difficulty you wriggle around in his arms to hug him properly.

He sighs into your embrace, and you lean back onto the bed, dragging him with you. Lying on top of you, he shifts so he can bury his face in your neck, and you massage his scalp comfortingly. Your stomach has twisted itself into a knot, pained to know the contents of his nightmare, sickened by the twisted irony of it all.

“I’m not suicidal Christopher. I never have been. It’s you-” His breath is hot against your neck, and he squeezes you impatiently, “That was one time.”

“One time is one too many,” you snap, but apologise immediately for your tone, “Sorry… I know it was years ago… and I understand why you tried to… who wouldn’t in your position? I think I would have too.”

Chris whimpers quietly, and you reprimand yourself for reminding him of the thought. “I’m not going to. What I’m trying to say, is that I still think about that moment a lot. It’s how I met you.”

Chris places a delicate kiss on your neck, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he speaks, “Yeah you pulled me off that god damn railing without any hesitation. I could’ve broken something.”

“You broke me,” you retaliate quietly, “You still break me.” Chris is silent at your words, and you stop your massaging of his scalp, lost in thought.

“That surprised expression you had when you finally heard me. It’s imprinted in my memory. Sometimes you give me that same look… and I can’t help but think what if?” He rolls off you and sits up against the headboard, gesturing for you to sit in between his legs. You do so almost subconsciously, still thinking hard.

“What if I hadn’t saved you that morning? What if I couldn’t? Maybe this is the universe’s form of karma for you,” you cringe at your train of thought, but Chris surprisingly laughs, peppering your head with kisses.

“Trust you to knock off my nightmare of you falling off a building as the ‘universe’s karma’.” You roll your eyes and grab at his arms, linking his hands around you yourself.

“Okay, let me rephrase… I’m just trying to say that… we all have our demons… and sometimes mine is that day you tried to kill yourself,” you look up at him to see him frowning, trying to understand your train of thought. You continue, “I guess I might be one of your demons.”

“One of my demons is the thought of losing you,” he eventually corrects, “So… I won’t ever lose you. Ever.” You giggle at his pout and bring one of his hands up to kiss it affectionately, “You won’t lose me. I’m not going to leave you.”

“Oh yeah? The last time you said that you up and left to a whole other continent across the seven seas,” he snorts, and you deflate in his arms, guilt riding up to your heart. “I- I know… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

“You won’t be able to. I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Chris grumbles, pulling you impossibly closer and tightening his hold around you, “Especially not after that nightmare. You’ll tell me yeah? If you ever have any worries? You won’t just one day decide to launch yourself off a building?”

“Of course I’ll tell you, but we won’t ever get to that point. I won’t leave you so suddenly-“ “Been there done that. I still have that voice message saved y’know. How could you just leave like that?”

“Wow, you’re really strung up about that still. I’m sorry… I’m sorry… that was one time and that was a year ago.” “One time is one too many. And that’s another one of my demons. That entire experience,” his voice is light now, and you can tell he’s joking with you, but deep down you know he’s still hurt by that period of time.

“Okay Mr. Separation Anxiety,” you grumble, “However can I make it up to you? Do I need to marry you? Worship you in bed? Follow you around for the rest of your life?”

Chris grins down at you and tilts your head so he can squarely kiss you, “They all sound good to me.” You raise your eyebrows, his face still pressed close, and whisper, “You want me to marry you?”

“Not the part I thought you’d comment on,” he chuckles, pressing close to kiss you into silence again. “No- Christopher I’d worship you in bed any day- you want to marry me?”

“Why is that such a surprise? Has that not always been in the books for this relationship? Were you planning on staying my girlfriend forever?” Chris’ affection has travelled to your neck, tugging at your hair a little roughly to angle your head for better access. You’re beginning to regret your suggestion of worship in the bed.

“No I… I just didn’t think- I mean you joke about it all the time, I didn't think you were serious serious about it,” you groan, forcefully pulling yourself away and scrambling out of his lap. You cross your arms as he pouts at you, and you immediately miss his warmth.

“I’d marry you right here if I could,” he shrugs, simultaneously pointing at you, and then at the vacant spot between his legs. “So why don’t you?” Is the only retort you can come up with, your brain going blank - and it’s only after it spills out of your mouth that you realise there’s a million reasons for why he doesn’t.

“You want me to get on my knee and propose right here right now? Cause I will,” he grins, “I gladly will, but… I’d rather I get the chance to do it properly.” He leans over and his hand encircles your wrist, trying his best to drag you back to him, but you dart off the bed and disappear into your office, still barely processing everything.

“And where are you going?” Chris yells impatiently, and after a moments pause you yell back to him. “I’m gonna get some work done!” “Right now? The sun’s hour’s away from rising!” “So? You do it all the time.”

“No- okay-” he sighs, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed, “Come back here please… I need… you need to fix this…” his last words are so faint that you have to poke your head around the office door and ask him again.

“You can’t just suggest you’ll worship me in bed and then leave,” he whines, and your brain falls into numb shock again. “I was humouring you, I wasn’t being serious. Did I not just die in your dreams 10 minutes ago? And now you want to-“

“Yes, because I took your humour very seriously,” he glares, stopping his snow angels on the bed just to eye you. “It’s the middle of the fucking night Christopher,” you sigh, turning away to start up your computer on your desk. “So? We do it all the time.”

You smash your forehead onto the table, walls caving as he uses your own words against you for the umpteenth time. “I fucking hate you Christopher.” “This is your fault,” he yells back.

“I really do hate you,” you scowl again, when he’s already kissing a trail down your neck and his hands are lost up your shirt. “I love you too,” he grins. “You made up that nightmare thing just to get my sympathy didn’t you?” “No. I’d never make something like that up. But you never know, now I might just make something else up in the future.”

“You’re… actually insufferable. And don’t you dare say ‘only for you~’ in that cheeky voice of yours.” “We can be insufferable for each other.” “So I’m insufferable as well? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes- will you hurry up and take this damn shirt off? It is- in- the way.” “You’re so unbelievably impatient.” “Only for you~” “Son of a-” “Shut up and fuck me, woman.”

“Say please?” “Wow. You did not just-” “Say please.” “Are you really going to-”

“Say. Please.” “I’m a bad influence.” “And I’m waiting.”

…

“Please.” “Please what?”

… …

“Please fuck me, jagiya. Before I turn your suggestion of ‘worship of my body’ into the ‘degradation of yours’.” “Oh.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> PART 11 -> Masterlist

A/N: Cute. I think.

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

#bang chan #stray kids #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #skz #christopher chan bang #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic

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the-broken-truth · 6 months

Text

Blot-Mates: Yuu & The Overblots [Part 1]

SEGMENT: RI

Summary: Ri wakes up in the middle of the night and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water, only to find the Prefect of Ramshackle - Yuu - making Strawberry Cheesecake. The Overblot of Heartslabyul & Magicless Prefect have a conversation.

[Note: The Yuu Variant is Male with Enma Yuuken's Body Build, Yuuka Hirasaki's Fighting Skills, and Yuuta Mito's Cooking Skills.]

[Note: This Storyline will be written in Script Format.]

Parts: [Prologue] - [Ri] (Here) - [Leo] - [Azu] - [Jami] - [Vi] - [Idi] - [Mal] - [All] - [Epilogue]

[Dark Crimson Eyes opened as Ri was pulled out of his nightmare, panting and gasping for air to flow into his lungs as he sat up in the bed that he had been given, running his hand through his dark red hair before he ran his hands down his face before looking around his room - he was still in Rmashackle; not...in the location where he was trapped in. Ri lowered his head for a while before his keen ears picked up on the sound of someone messing with the pots in Ramshackle's Kitchen. Ri threw the blankets off his body and walked out of the room, down the darkened hall, until he saw the light coming from the kitchen. Ri peeked around the corner to see Yuu making something.]

Ri (Looking at Yuu): Prefect?

Yuu: Hm? (Looks over to Ri): Ri? Is something the matter? What are you doing up at this hour?

Ri: I could be asking you the same thing, Prefect. What are you doing up at...(Looks at the clock on the wall) 2:25 in the morning?

Yuu (Mixing something in a large mixing bowl): Since you and the others were so fond of the cheesecake I had to the point where you ate all of it; I decided to make more. It takes about 4 hours for the cheesecake to be done and I am making 5 different types of cheesecakes.

Ri: There are multiple types of cheesecake? I thought there were only 2: The Plain & The Strawberry Flavours.

Yuu: There are multiple types of cheesecake, but I love 5 flavors that I love to make: Plain, Strawberry, Blueberry, Cherry, and Cinnamon Roll Flavours.

Ri (Walking over to Yuu and looking at the 5 empty pie crusts): 5 Different Flavours? And...these pie crusts... Did you hand make these yourself, Prefect?

Yuu: Yes. It's so much better if you make the crusts yourself, instead of buying the pie crusts from TWST Mart.

Ri: What is the reason you are making all of these cakes? Are you hosting an event?

Yuu: No, these are for you guys.

Ri (Looks at Yuu with a raised eyebrow): For us? You are making desserts for your enemies?

Yuu (Slowly pouring the Plain Cheesecake Batter into the 1st Pie Crust): What are you talking about, Ri? None of you are my enemies.

Ri (Eyes wide): We... We are not?

Yuu: No. Why would you think you are?

Ri: But... After everything we have done to you... How could you not detest us?

Yuu (Walking over to the sink and placing the bowl in the prepped dishwater): You haven't done anything to me that you couldn't help, Ri.

Ri: But... The Overblot Battle was...

Yuu: Not your fault.

Ri (Wide-eyed and speechless): What makes you say that, Prefect? I almost killed you... We all did.

Yuu: Ri, you share a body and life with the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, who is responsible for upholding the 810 Rules of the Queen of Hearts' Court. It's a highly stressful job. Moreover, your mother's strict upbringing must have added to the pressure. Therefore, I don't find it fair to blame you for anything you may have done.

Ri (Looks down and rubs his arm): You... You know about my upbringing?

Yuu (Turns to face Ri): During the Overblot Battle, I saw...something. I saw Riddle's Life - your life - and everything you have been through; your choices were made for you and you couldn't think for yourself. You were robbed of the childhood you were entitled to and even your friendships with Trey and Che'nya were taken away from you. It was fate that you and Trey were reunited....however, that was not fair to you.

[Ri looks down at the ground as Yuu's words sink and the kindness that Yuu has shown Riddle ever since the Overblot Accident, the kindness he is showing him... He doesn't understand this. How can the Magicless Prefect refuse to hate him? All the pain he caused the members of dorm members of his house... Why doesn't he hate him? Why?]

[Ri suddenly freezes up as he feels Yuu's arms wrapped around his smaller frame and holding him close, just as an elder brother would comfort his younger brother when he was close to breaking. Ri looked up at Yuu's face, the Prefect was silent and just wanted to show Ri that he didn't hate him. Ri felt his eyes building up with tears before he wrapped his smaller arms around Yuu, allowing his tears to fall and become soaked into Yuu's Nightshirt.]

[Once Ri managed to calm down, Yuu decided to share the last 2 slices of Strawberry Cheesecake with Ri and brewed some tea that helped him to get sleep. Ri sat at the table while Yuu was filling the other pie crusts with different flavors before placing them in the fridge just as the tea kettle was steaming. Yuu grabbed two cups and tea bags before preparing the tea and making it as Ri suggested.]

[The Prefect and the Overblot sat at the table, drinking their tea and eating their cheesecake, while having conversation for about an hour when Ri started to yawn; showing that the tea was starting to take effect. Yuu stood from his chair and lifted the smaller figure in his arms like a tender brother and carried him to his room, placed him on the bed, covered him in the blanket, and stood up to walk away but was stopped when Ri's hand reached out and grabbed his pants leg.]

Ri: Stay... Until I fall asleep... Please?

Yuu (Smies): Sure, Little Rose Bud. I got your back.

[Yuu sat on the end of the bed, using his large hand to caress Ri's Dark Red Hair and humming a song from his world until Ri drifted off into dreamland. The Prefect sat there for a while getting up and heading off to bed for a while before he had to get up to make breakfast.]

[END - TO BE CONTINUED]

#Blot-Mates AU #Male Yuu #Overblot Boys #Overblot Riddle #Overblot Ri #twisted wonderland

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wishcamper · 3 months

Text

Squeaked in at the last minute for Day 6 of @gwynweekofficial!

Here's the first chapter of a modern Gwynriel grad student AU. Read below the cut or on ao3!

Dark Matter

CW: referenced sexual assault, language, Nesta smoking weed lol

The effects of lucid dreaming on PTSD-related nightmares (as well as waking symptoms) have been discussed in several studies collecting anecdotal data from amateur practitioners (Gibbons et al, 2016). Further research has been conducted on brain activity during lucid dreaming as well as PTSD-related nightmares. Both phenomena demonstrate brain activity in the amygdala, where the brain stores emotional memory (CITATION), and lucid dreaming introduces activity in the prefrontal cortex often absent during nervous system dysregulation (THAT ARTICLE I CANT FUCKING FIND REMEMBER TO ASK ANAKE).

Traumatic memory reconsolidation through techniques such as eye-movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) indicate therapeutic value in ‘re-living’ traumatic experiences in formats that promote autonomy and agency for the victimized person (CITATION) (IS THIS LANGUAGE RIGHT?). Preliminary data using the Nightmare Protocol (Rothschild, 2000) in closed lab conditions show a decrease in symptoms of hypervigilance, waking flashbacks, and PTSD-related nightmares (Merrill & Berdara, 2023). This study will explore the possible link and therapeutic benefits of

“Think fast, bitch.”

Gwyn looked up from where she’d been typing feverishly, blinking at her friend who was looming over her on the sofa, waggling a fuzzy blanket and an unlabeled prescription bottle stuffed with weed. Nesta sat down next to her so their thighs were touching and wrapped the blanket around them both without asking, blocking out the chill of the A/C blasting full throttle.

Yet despite the sigh that escaped her, Gwyn knew Nesta didn’t need to ask - this was exactly what she’d come over for, whether she regretted the request or not.

“I texted Cass to see what his plans are, I’ll let you know when I hear from him,” Nesta said. Her voice was sharp, articulate, and it always reminded Gwyn of the ladies from period dramas, though there was nothing demure and blushing about her. Nothing but fierce determination in the woman who lifted the laptop from her hands and scooted it out of reach before grabbing the rolling papers from the coffee table drawer. Nesta rolled a neat joint with the same dedication as she did all her cases, the same way she’d taken Gwyn under her wing all those years ago.

They’d met in a class called Children of Divorce, which turned out to be more boring than depressing, but the two had formed a quick bond bitching about the dumbass professor, the limits of academia in general.

Nesta had been very protective of her from the start, which had confused Gwyn at first, but she’d come to accept the stubbornness of her friend’s care, the deep privilege of having someone so loyal on her side. Along with their friend Emerie, Gwyn had never felt more solid in her relationships, more held and loved by the people in her life.

Which was fortunate giving what a fucking train wreck that life had become in the past year.

Gwyn heard the front door open, a tired grunt and the sound of a heavy bag being dropped on the floor. She felt her shoulders tense reflexively and tried to relax them, picturing the sparkling blue of the bay where she’d vacationed as a child.

“Hi baby,” Nesta called from the couch. “Gwyn’s here.”

She grabbed the laptop and typed something quickly before setting it aside, tilted toward Gwyn, and heading into the kitchen. Gwyn saw the Google search bar on the screen, the words entered there: do you need him to find somewhere else to be?

Her heart swelled at her friend’s kindness, her consideration. Nesta had been so good from the very beginning at helping Gwyn feel comfortable without making a big deal about it. She half-listened to the couple greet each other, unable to help the small smile that rose to her lips.

“How was training?”

“Awful. I’m slow as shit right now.”

If Nesta’s ferocity was clear when she spoke, Cassian’s overall bigness was evident in his voice, the happy boom of it reverberating like the subwoofers they used to dance on top of at house parties in undergrad. They’d gotten a lot closer this summer given how much time she spent at their townhouse, and Gwyn felt lucky to call him a friend even though she was still uneasy around men.

“You should run with Az again. Last time you were so mad he was faster, you got better out of spite.”

“Oh my god, why did you tell me that? That’s exactly what I have to do. You’re so smart.”

Gwyn heard the sound of Cassian kissing his wife’s cheek, her answering noise of disgust.

“And you smell horrible.”

“Yeah I’m gonna go shower, my running rival is coming to pick me up in a bit.”

Nesta appeared back in the living room, pointed her thumb down and then up - a question. Gwyn returned a thumbs up, and Nesta smiled.

“Why don’t you hang out here?” she called back into the kitchen, and Gwyn heard cabinets opening, the rush of water in the sink.

“Is that cool with you guys?”

“I told Gwyn all I wanted to do was get high and eat Thai and watch Love is Blind. So if that’s your pleasure, feel free.”

Cassian appeared around the corner with a big cup of water, the plastic splashed with an image of Nesta’s face twisted in fury, a souvenir of his bachelor party. He grinned at Gwyn, his gym clothes and swept back hair damp with sweat. “I’ll text Az. We were gonna get food I think, but maybe we’ll come back after,” he said before disappearing to the bedroom, and she heard the shower starting, the whoosh of the pipes in the wall.

Nesta was already nestled into the couch when Gywn came back to herself, remote held aloft, drawing long from the joint she’d left smoldering in the ashtray. She held it out across the sofa but Gwyn shook her head, diving back into her literature review instead, for as long as Nesta would allow, anyway.

Not that she was above smoking, but it made her paranoid and jumpy, didn’t give her the mellow feeling she craved. Gwyn had tried everything and anything to help her sleep by this point, though her darkest hours were still plagued with dreams of cramped elevators, wine-stained lips, the cold click of wheels across hospital floor tiles. During the disciplinary hearing, she’d gobbled Xanax like Emerie’s dog devoured any food left unattended. She’d even tried going to church a few times, though the looming figures on the altar felt like they grew bigger and bigger with each breath she dragged into her lungs, her florid prayers condensing into a desperate mantra of Please don’t do this, please don’t, please, please, please..

Those days were behind her, thankfully, though the scars still lingered, both within and without. Gwyn vaguely heard Cassian calling out his goodbyes, waved an idle hand over her shoulder in his general direction.

Things were looking up recently, the slow plod of time eroding the sharp crags of her memory. Since the hearing in May she’d had three blissful months of a deserted campus to get back into a routine, to start scraping together a sense of normalcy. But now the undergrads were back for the semester, as well as her.. well, she didn’t know what to call Him anymore.

Former advisor, erstwhile lover.

Executioner.

His face flashed in her mind, a pastiche of all the times he’d praised her, poured the balm of his attention over her neglected heart. The hard set of his jaw across the conference table, the drunken fury when he’d -

“Oh, what the fuck?” Nesta yelled at the TV, jolting Gwyn from where she’d paused in her typing mid-sentence. “You’re gonna propose and then talk shit about her behind her back? Men are trash.”

The show was garbage, ten thousand percent so, but as her mind slowed down from its frantic rememberings Gwyn could admit to herself that she needed this. Just as she needed Nesta’s arm to reach out then and wrap around her shoulders, encouraging her to sink further into the corner of the threadbare couch, snuggled once more under the giant blanket.

It was a testament to Nesta’s goodness that she hadn’t hesitated to invite Gwyn over when she called her this afternoon mid-panic attack, hadn’t made the slightest fuss when she could only choke out I saw Him before dropping the depositions she’d been reviewing and plunking her friend on the sofa.

“He’s growing out his beard again.”

It felt like a stab wound, knowing he was out there still, carrying on while she was a fucking wreck. Gwyn was despondent as she gave up and finally shut her laptop, setting it on the side table. It felt like every time she got her feet under her something would sweep them away, leaving her bruised once more.

“What an asshole.” Nesta’s scowl could stop a man’s heart. “At least it makes him look like the fucking groomer he is.”

All the breath had left her when Gwyn saw Him across the quad that morning - he’d been talking to a very young student, the tiny cherries on her sundress like drops of blood.

“I should transfer.”

“Fuck that. You deserve to be here. You deserve to finish your education.”

She didn’t protest, knowing arguing with Nesta was useless anyway. Instead she rested her head on Nesta’s shoulder, heard the hum of approval as her friend took another long drag, blowing out a dense cloud of smoke. Gwyn felt her phone vibrate and patted around on the cushions for a second before finding it.

Emerie: love you Winnie, i have my phone on for a client anyway so you’re not allowed to feel guilty for calling me

Catrin: Hey I have time this weekend if you want to facetime!! Noon my time/midnight yours?

Cassian: Gwynnie do you want food? Nes is demanding Thai, but we can drop it off if you need some space

Gwyn: No you’re fine, I don’t want to kick you out of your own house

Cassian: shut up

Cassian: Az said he wants to see you if that changes your mind

Cassian: 😏

Gwyn declined to respond to his last message, unsure what the hell to even say to that. The thought of a guy even looking at her was enough to make her skin crawl these days, but beneath it now there was a tiny thrill, a part of her that came back online. She puzzled over it through the next episode before Cassian burst through the front door once more, his crooning call accompanied by the rustle of plastic bags.

“Oh, love of my life!”

The wedding was a requirement to move in together, given Nesta’s family’s conservative leanings, and everyone looked at each other sideways when the two got married right after undergrad considering their litany of very public breakups and makeups. But Cassian and Nesta were the most solid couple she knew, and they both seemed to delight in collecting waywards souls and stuffing them full of food and aggressive affirmations.

That truth was evidenced by the mountain of sweets Cassian poured out onto the couch from a CVS bag, the mile-long receipt fluttering to the floor. “We didn’t know what you’d want so we got everything,” he said before burying his face in Nesta’s neck. “I missed you.”

“You saw me forty-five minutes ago,” she groused despite her smug expression, and she allowed her husband to deliver her pad thai on one knee, cracking the plastic container open and revealing the noodles with all the flourish he would a diamond ring.

Azriel, for his part, had enough decency to look embarrassed by the whole thing, and Gwyn couldn’t help smiling at the way he rolled his eyes and sloped into the kitchen to grab a beer for himself and Cassian. He gave Gwyn a questioning look and she shook her head, tried to ignore the flush that threatened to stain her cheeks.

It hurt sometimes to see how in love her friends were.

She’d been in love with Him, at least she’d thought so at the time, though now she could only view the memories through the stain of the aftermath. He was married, and thirty years her senior, but he made her feel special, as pathetic as that made her sound in her own head. The world wouldn’t understand, he told her, and she’d believed him even as the guilt ripped at her, the sense that at its base what they were doing was deeply wrong.

She wished she could say her conscience caused her to break it off, but it had taken the threat of his wife discovering them to make her end things for good. She’d been unable to hide her heartbreak, and confessing the relationship to her friends was horrible. Gwyn expected them to blame her, to tell her she was asking for it. That she knew better than getting involved with a married man, that she was a homewrecker, a whore, the thousand slurs she hurled at herself every day.

But once the initial shock wore off, her friends’ sorrow surprised her, as did the rage they felt toward Him. Emerie, in her gentle but no-nonsense way, taught Gwyn a lot about abusive relationship cycles and coercive control, and she began to comb through the illusions he’d weaved through the cracks of her fragile sense of self.

But only after she’d untangled herself from Him did the worst of it happen. Now she could barely think his name without starting to tremble.

Too late she registered the people on TV were no longer making sound, the turn of eyes toward her. Gwyn didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt Nesta’s hand tightening around her own.

“Oh honey. Oh, it’s okay, come here.”

She felt Nesta’s arms wrap around her shoulders, her now-heaving breaths shaking them both.

“I’m sorry.’ The shame lay thickly on top of her, paralyzing. Nesta only squeezed tighter, trying to ground her.

“Shut the hell up, I love you. You’re allowed to feel like this.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Cassian shift slowly, picking up her water bottle and setting it beside her. Gwyn clutched the handle like it was a life raft.

“I just don’t think I can stay here much longer,” she choked through her tears, mortified that the mess was showing on the outside. “I can’t keep getting knocked over every time I see Him.”

Azriel’s fist clenched against the sofa arm but he was otherwise still, an unreadable expression on his face. Then his eyebrows softened and Gwyn heard the rush of her own blood in her ears, the fear pounding.

“I’m so tired,” she blurted out, unable to contain it. Everyone kept silent, letting the tide flow out of her. “I’m on edge all the time, I can’t concentrate. Merrill is breathing down my fucking neck. And it’s clear he isn’t going to leave, so if I want any peace of mind I have to leave myself.”

“You know what’s best for you better than anyone else,” Azriel said quietly. “But I also think you’re trying hard not to take the help that would be happily given to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You say you’re tired. So let the people who love you take some of the weight.”

Nesta made a noise of agreement, and Gwyn turned to her, taken aback.

“You agree with him?”

Nesta shrugged and brushed Gwyn’s hair back from her face, reached around her to pluck a tissue from the box on the end table, a remnant of her last breakdown. “I mean, you always act like the things I do for you are such an inconvenience for me. They’re not. I’d do literally anything for you.”

“Why?”

“Because you deserve it.” Cassian’s stare was even from where he was sprawled on the floor, and even as the guilt twisted in her stomach Gwyn felt the truth of it, of the way they were all holding her up.

“What would it even look like?” They’d been so constant, and she promised herself to consider the help for their sakes, even though she knew she’d never accept.

Cassian shrugged. “However you want. You can move in here if you don’t want to live alone.”

“No, I’m not getting in your way like that.”

“I’ll move in with you, then.”

“Nesta, no.”

“I could escort you on campus if that would help,” Azriel offered.

Gwyn faltered, both from surprise at his willingness and because it actually sounded great. “I’ll be running my sleep study the next few weeks, my hours are too weird.”

“Az is pretty much nocturnal, he’s perfect for the job.” Cassian reached up and ruffled his friend’s hair, leaving Azriel looking like a disheveled crow. He scowled but turned back to Gwyn, his deep voice sincere.

“If it’s because you’re uncomfortable with it, that’s fine.”

“But if you’re saying no because you’re stubborn,” Nesta added. “Then you’re outnumbered here, babe.”

Cassian began a chant of One of us, banging his hands on the coffee table, and Gwyn laughed in spite of herself, tears still leaking. “I don’t want to be handled like I’m something fragile.”

“No, no.” He paused his banging and looked thoughtful, considering. “Think of us like the Secret Service. We got your back so you can focus on saving the world.”

“I think I should talk with Amelia about this.” Her therapist was good at giving it to her straight while still empowering her to trust her instincts.

“Okay, I’m gonna hold you to that,” Nesta said sternly before wrapping Gwyn up again. “Lovingly, tenderly hold you.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me.”

“Because you do too much for other people to carry this shit alone. Because there are people in the world who want nothing more than to bring you Belgian chocolates,” Nesta said, picking up a box from the pile on the sofa and waving it in front of her face. Azriel’s eyes darted toward the carpet. “Don’t let one fucking horrid asshole man take that from you. Now are you going to help me verbally abuse these trash bags or not?”

Gwyn laughed again, the knot in her throat easing as Nesta unmuted the TV and the others settled back into their places, the bounce of conversation returning once more.

“What’s wrong with this lady? What does she have?”

“I can’t diagnose anybody,” Gwyn said offhandedly, the answer rote as she dug through the chocolates. “Sorry, I’m overwhelmed by choice at the moment.” She puzzled over the map on the inside of the box lid, the whirl of vague descriptors about the chocolates’ depth, the passion of their creation. “I don’t think I can start with one of the ‘intense’ ones, they’re too intimidating. Like, intense compared to what? How do I prepare for that?”

Cassian tipped his head back and laughed. “See, if you were gone, who else would say shit like that? You make the world better, Gwynnie.”

And damn it if Gwyn didn’t feel herself begin to unspool as they watched, the idle commentary warming her through. Eventually a very stoned Nesta started using her experience in divorce settlements to determine which couples were the real deal and which were goners, and apparently the overall odds were grim.

“No, see, they disagree about lifestyle priorities. They’re fucked.”

“How can you tell?” Azriel frowned, and Gwyn couldn’t help watching the shift of his long legs, clad in black jeans despite the August heat.

“Look at the way he’s dismissing her. He’s gonna be like ‘oh I’ll convince her I’m right, she’ll agree with me eventually’.”

The contestant in question appeared in a confessional and said the same thing Nesta predicted, nearly verbatim. Cassian shuddered.

“That’s spooky. You terrify me.”

“Good.”

Gwyn smiled as Nesta grabbed Cassian’s neck playfully from behind, putting him in a headlock. She glanced at the sun setting beyond the balcony, orange streaking the sky. “I feel like we are going to see him eat those words. AND I’m going to check that all the doors are locked because it will make me feel better.”

Weeks ago after a similar meltdown, Gwyn had promised her friends to be more unapologetic about the things she needed to do to feel safe since the assault. Eventually she’d learn to let the security blankets go, but she needed them right now and that was okay.

So it was with a feeling of lightness that she popped up from the sofa, that she heard Cassian say, “Yes queen,” through a mouthful of drunken noodles at the same time Nesta assured her, “Do whatever you need to, babe.”

It wasn’t always simple and it was difficult not to let the hard days win, but her friends had been awesome. Including, surprisingly, the brooding guy settled back into the far corner of the couch.

Azriel.

What the hell was she going to do about him? She’d only known him as Cassian’s friend before her world explored, was shocked a few days after when he visited her in the hospital. He’d brought her socks, saying he knew hospitals could be cold. It was sweet, and she’d held the memory close in those dark days that followed, a small spark in the blackness.

She locked the back door, rotating the handle twice. She did the same to the front door, and was halfway down the basement stairs when Azriel started up, meeting her on the landing in the middle.

“I got the sliding door,” he said.

Gwyn flushed with anxiety, felt her eyes burn with inevitable tears. “I need to check myself.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

She brushed past him and checked the door, made sure the bar was down and the pin in place. Rattled it twice. Azriel was hovering at the bottom of the stairs when she turned, hunched like he wanted to make his lanky frame smaller. She swallowed as she started to cry, trying to keep down her shame at her body’s natural reaction.

It was normal. She was okay.

“I’m not crying because I’m upset. I’m crying because you wanted to help me and that’s just really nice of you.”

“Gwyn, I-”

“Thank you. It really means a lot to me.”

His skin was cool when she laid her hand over the tattoo on his forearm, the swirl of geometric shapes wrapped around it. Sacred geometry, he’d told her once, the ‘tree of life’. Before her now he stayed deathly still, as if not wanting to startle her, though his shadowed eyes didn’t stray from her face.

“Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But.” He seemed to think hard on his words. “I care. About you.”

He placed a hand over hers, and for the first time in forever Gwyn didn’t feel tired to the center of her bones, didn’t feel like a damaged, fucked up cast-off too weak to survive in the world. She felt like just a girl, standing in front of a boy, trying to remember how to breathe because he was really, really unfortunately good-looking.

“Did you mean to abandon us up here?”

Cassian’s voice resonated from the living room, making Gwyn jump, her gaze snapping toward the stairs before Nesta said, “That’s so rude, you know we both have abandonment issues.”

She heard Cassian’s booming laugh and turned back to Azriel, who looked chagrined and yet nervous somehow, like his face couldn’t decide how much it wanted to show. She wiggled her toes against the concrete, grounding herself with the fuzzy fabric of her socks, the first thing that ever helped.

“I was just saving Azriel from a robber,” she called up the stairs. “Poor thing, I think he needs an escort on campus at night.”

She felt some of her old self resurface as she smiled at him then, at the way he’d half-frozen in surprise before his mouth curled into a lazy smirk.

“Guess I’ll be seeing more of you, Berdara.”

#gwyneth berdara #gwynweekofficial #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #pro gwynriel #nesta archeron #cassian #modern!gwynriel

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