#when I tried to move away even though I could never say it

[morthstaar]

Please, PLEASE Tulpar crew x a very shy/introverted reader who is like crushing on the crew really hard but way too shy and embarrassed to tell them but like the crew starts to slowly catch on to them and the way they act different around them. Also I don't mean the crew as a whole I mean the separate characters 😭🙏🏽

ask and u shall receive 😈

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OH GOD, YOU CAN TELL?

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Captain Curly

-oh.. curly knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that you had the biggest crush on him.

-there is no slow realization.

-not at all oblivious to it.

-everytime your eyes would seemingly uncontrollably and totally unconsciously drift to him he would try to meet your gaze with a friendly, boyish smirk.

-does that happen? HELL NAH. you are much too shy to even look the captain in the eye.

-your little heart almost beats out of your chest at any interaction. little or big.

-"Hey, just the person I needed to see. I have a little favor to ask you."

-oh god. suddenly words seem hard to pronounce and the entirety of the english language is no where to be seen.

-after a few weeks, curly would definitely find this endearing.

-i feel like since curly is so outgoing, he would be very intrigued by someone who is the complete opposite.

-curly wouldn't act much different when it comes to you, due to maintaining professionalism as his role as captain.

-he may due small acts like making a cake simply to indulge in your sweet-tooth that he somehow knew about you.

-"oh, we just had extra packets of sugar. i just thought id bake something. you like cake right?"

-cheeky motherfucker.

Intern Daisuke

-dude is so so so oblivious even though you make it perfectly clear...

-you could be making like.. making out with the guy and he'd be like,

-"yoo, we are literally besties right?"

-deadass, he prolly had no idea you liked him for weeks.

-you could be laughing extra loud at his jokes then realize ur laughing too loud, look at him while he isn't looking at you, sneak an extra sweetener packet on his bed when he isn't around,,,,

-his ass still is clueless.

-it takes either curly or swansea's help to realize that you had a massive crush on him but were just to shy to say something.

-once he realizes, he is now all over you and following you around like a lost puppy. not nonchalant at ALL.

-literally tries to pick up the polle statue to show his 'guns' but the statue moves only an inch..

-now he is hyper aware of your actions and reactions, he finds your shyness just SO CUTE WTFFF.

-compliments you to see what you would do.

-"man, have you always been this hot or is it just the sweetener talking?"

-runs away.....

-would steal sweetener packets just for you two to share :)

Nurse Anya

-i feel like she notices how different you act around her, but she just thinks its because you two are good friends.

-she never assumes anything, just her friend being friendly.

-even though you sometimes make it unintentionally obvious..

-like this one time you recommend her a book from your quarters library and her fingers lightly grazed yours reaching for it.

-oh shit. her soft hands touched yours. oh god what does a normal person do in this situation??

-"thank you for the-oh... book."

-well, they don't smile awkwardly, sweat pouring down their face and leave in a hurry with the book still in their hand.

-anya isn't stupid or completely oblivious by any means. she definitely knew from this encounter of your little crush on her.

-she is quite flattered honestly. someone so similar to her truly likes her?

-when she fully processes this information, she is very subtle with how she shows her affection back.

-during check-ups, she sometimes gives you a treat from one of her desk drawers for being a good patient.

-other times she lets you join her late at night in the lounge to just look at the pretty night time screen.

-"this makes me miss home. it's so beautiful."

-you'd look over at her and her eyes are not on the screen, far from it actually.

-her eyes are on you.

-so this is what a heart attack feels like..

Mechanic Swansea

-unpopular hot-take, swansea is actually a dilf and he often has younger men/women confess their feelings to him.

-so because of that headcanon, swansea definitely knows how you feel from the first time y'all met.

-your eyes would subconsciously peek at his open shirt revealing his chest. suspiciously, whenever he would look back, you quickly turn away shyly...

-he immediately thinks he is way to old for this shit. he just got out of a divorce and prolly never wanted to try again. especially with someone younger.

-"what is with this damn younger generation with old people.."

-he tries to avoid you even though you two are co-workers and.. work together. on the same ship.

-as weeks go by, your shyness starts to grow on this grumpy man. he... he thinks it's endearing in a sense..

-he rather likes how reserved you are, and how are aren't as loudmouthed as daisuke.

-he won't act much different to you, but according to the rest of the crew it is obvious.

-swansea leaves little sticky notes reminding you to eat or sleep because and the sticky note quotes,,

-"..the crew doesn't need you passin' out while doin' your job. so eat or i will make you."

-swansea is also much more soft-spoken with you than anyone else.

-he has never raised his voice or spoken down on you. his usual brashness and snarky remarks are now toned down (but not entirely) around you.

-"hey. i didn't say you had to leave, did i? stop puttin' words in my damn mouth and sit."

Co-captain Jimmy

-jimmy prolly doesn't even acknowledge you at first.

-you could be looking at him, thinking he doesn't know that your eyes are skimming over his face and body.

-oh but jimmy.. he does know,,, but he never shows that he does.

-he likes the attention on him. your eyes looking him over when she doesn't even know that he is soaking it up.

-im sorry but he definitely gets off to the fact that you are shy and get flustered easily.

-he loves how malleable and submissive you are due to your shyness. and he uses it to his advantage.

-he shows his affection strongly after he knows your crush.like sometimes he would purposefully follow you places and when you turn around he'd be like..

-"do you mind? you're in my way.."

-i feel like he wouldn't know how to properly express his feelings so he would be kind of unnecessarily mean and cruel.

-and after he would be mean he would be nice and extra affectionate so you would still like him.

-like you could be working on something and is critical about your work.

-"are you serious? tsk.. move, since you clearly cannot perform a basic task."

-then later he's like..

-"im glad someone on this ship is helpful, like you."

-basically, he purposefully plays with your feelings to get you to confess bc i feel like he likes when women cone to him.....

[cherryfyre]

5 Times Sarah Cameron Used You to Change Rafe's Mind

The Charity Auction

Rafe lounged on the couch, lazily flipping through the flat screen's channels. He wasn't in the mood for Sarah's antics, but the sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floors made him glance up.

"Don't forget, the charity auction is tomorrow," Sarah said, casually tying her hair back as she rifled through a drawer.

"Not going"

"You're unbelievable," Sarah shot back, slamming the drawer shut. "Dad donated half the prizes, and people are expecting us. Do you really want to deal with him if we don't show?"

Rafe scoffed "Since when do you care about what Dad thinks?"

"I don't. But the auction's important to people. Like... y'know who."

Rafe didn't need her to clarify. He could picture you now—probably making centrepieces out of seashells or whatever it was kooks like you cared about. He rolled his eyes, "Still not going."

Sarah smirked. "Right. Because you hate being in a room where people are actually impressed by you for once." She snapped, turning on her heel and starts to leave.

He threw the remote onto the couch with a groan "Fine. but if it's boring then I'm out."

The next evening. Rafe walked into the auction wearing a blazer that screamed "I don't care," through his hair that was carefully tousled. His eyes hovered over the luxurious room, until they had found you.

You were at the front of the room, adjusting a floral arrangement on a table, your dress soft and flowing, catching the light with every move. When you turend and saw him, your focused face turned into a surprised smile.

"Rafe? I didn't think I would see you here."

"Yeah, well...." He shrugged, slipping hsi hands into his pockets, "Sarah dragged me."

Your smiled softened, your voice quieter now. "Well, I'm glad you came. It's nice having someone I know here."

Rafe felt his chest tighten unexpectedly, the kind of feeling he'd never admit. "You seem busy." He said, motioning to the bustling room.

"I am, but..." You stepped closer, the warmth of your perfume wrapping around him "It's good busy. It's for a good cause."

He nodded, unable to look away from your glowing expression. "Yeah, looks good."

2. The Bonfire

“Don’t be lame, Rafe,” Sarah called from the doorway, jingling her car keys.

“Not going.” He didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Right,” Sarah said, leaning against the doorframe. “Because sitting alone here and staring at your phone all night is such a better time.”

“It is when I don’t have to deal with John B and his idiot friends.”

Sarah shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m just saying it’s not a bad crowd. You know, people who don’t get on your nerves.” She paused, giving him a pointed look. “Like her.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“She’s been talking about it all week. She even made s’mores kits,” Sarah added with a sly grin. “But whatever. Have fun being miserable.”

He sighed, setting his phone down with exaggerated annoyance. “I’m only going because I’m bored. Don’t expect me to stay long.”

The fire crackled against the dark sky, and Rafe stayed on the outskirts, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on you. You were crouched by the fire, your laughter mingling with the sparks as you tried to keep a marshmallow from catching fire.

When you caught him watching, you smiled and waved. “Come sit!”

“I’m good here,” he called back, though his feet were already moving toward you.

“Afraid of s’mores?” you teased, holding out a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

He smirked, taking it from you. “You’re lucky this one’s decent.

“Lucky?” you laughed. “I’m an expert.”

He shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in your eyes, and for the first time that night, he didn’t mind being there.

3. The Surf Competition

Rafe leaned back in his chair, his feet propped on the porch railing as Sarah walked past with a beach bag slung over her shoulder.

“You’re not going to the surf competition?” she asked, not breaking stride.

“Since when do I go to those things?” he shot back, his sunglasses hiding his glare.

“Since never,” Sarah replied. “But it’s kind of a big deal. The whole island’s going. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”

“Pass.”

Sarah stopped, looking over her shoulder. “You know, she’s competing.”

Rafe’s hand paused mid-reach for his drink. “And?”

“And nothing,” Sarah said, turning away. “But she’s been practicing for weeks, and she’s actually good. But hey, stay here. I’m sure your chair needs you.”

Rafe grumbled under his breath, grabbing his keys. “Whatever.”

The beach was packed, the crowd buzzing with excitement. Rafe kept to the back, his arms crossed as he scanned the waves. When he spotted you paddling out, your determination written in every stroke, he couldn’t look away.

You caught a wave, carving effortlessly down its face, your smile radiant as you glided toward the shore. The crowd erupted in cheers, but Rafe barely noticed. He was too busy watching you, the way you seemed to light up in the sunlight.

Afterward, you spotted him leaning against a railing. “Rafe! You came?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral. “Didn’t have anything else going on.”

Your smile widened. “Well, thanks. It means a lot.”

He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in your voice stayed with him long after the competition ended.

4. The Family Dinner

“You’re coming to dinner,” Sarah said as she walked into the living room.

Rafe didn’t even glance up. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s just dinner, Rafe. Dad’s grilling, and—”

“And what? It’s going to be a train wreck like usual?”

Sarah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Stay here. I just thought you’d want to keep her company while the rest of us deal with Dad’s speeches.”

Rafe looked up, his brow furrowing. “She’s going?”

“She’s coming with her parents. You know how Dad is—he invited everyone with a trust fund.”

Rafe muttered something under his breath before standing. “Guess I’ll go. Someone has to keep you in check.”

At the dinner, Rafe kept his distance at first, leaning against a tree with a drink in hand. But when he saw you standing by yourself near the fire pit, your dress catching the glow of the flames, he found himself walking over.

“Didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” he said, his voice casual.

You turned, your face lighting up. “Rafe! I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Yeah, well… figured I’d make an appearance.”

You smiled softly, and for the rest of the night, Rafe found himself by your side, your laughter making the night more bearable than he’d ever admit.

5. The Lake Day

“Let’s go,” Sarah said, throwing a towel at Rafe’s head.

He caught it with a scowl. “Go where?”

“The lake. Everyone’s going.”

“Pass.”

“Typical.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “She’s coming too, but I guess that’s not enough of a reason for you to leave your cave.”

Rafe frowned, trying to mask his interest. “She’s going?”

Sarah didn’t answer, just smirked as she walked out the door.

By the lake, Rafe spotted you sitting on the dock, your feet dangling in the water. The sunlight danced across the waves, catching in your hair and making you look almost otherworldly.

He walked over, sitting down next to you without a word.

“Hey,” you said, smiling at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Sarah dragged me,” he lied, glancing out at the water.

You bumped his shoulder lightly. “Well, I’m glad you came.”

Rafe felt the tension in his chest ease, the warmth of your presence making the lake day more tolerable than he’d thought possible.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Imperfections and All

|| Jinx x fem!reader

|| Warnings; Jinx having a breakdown, crying, hearing voices, seeing people that aren't there, brief season two/end of season one spoilers, reader comforting Jinx

|| Summary; when reader finds Jinx, Jinx isn't fully there.

Requests closed!

Started; December 1st

Finished; December 1st

HurtCember2024; day two, breakdown

~~~

A familiar cold laughter filled the air. You'd walked into your girlfriend's workshop, taking light steps over the metal surface. Walking through here always made you nervous; there were no railings. So you made sure to tread carefully.

"Jinx?" You called. The laughter didn't seem to stop. It continued until you found her. Curled up in a ball under her workbench. Eyes wide, head in her hands. Gripping at her hair while muttering nonsense to herself. You hated seeing her like this. It pained you knowing the girl you loved went through everything that she did. Jinx didn't deserve it. Nobody deserved this.

Her eyes snapped to you. You weren't sure if she was even seeing you. That happened, sometimes. Jinx would look at you and say another name. Sometimes Vi, Claggor, Mylo, even Vander and Caitlyn. Lately Silco. It was always another name when she was like this. But never yours. That had to be a good sign, right? Your voice wasn't tormenting her. "What're you looking at, Mylo? You happy? Turned into the Jinx you always thought I was." Jinx's words came out as a spit. Making you frown.

Slowly, carefully. You moved yourself under the workbench. Settling down beside her. Your skin brushing against each other. "It's me, Jinx." You assured her. Hesitant at first, but slowly your hand moved to her knee. Cupping it in an attempt to ground her. It didn't. Jinx flinched away from you, eyes wide. She hid her face in her hands again. Continued mutters, a lot of 'shut ups'. Never directed at you. Never you.

"Hey..." You reached out again. Gently taking her hands from her face and bringing her into your arms. Jinx tried to fight it. But caved and sobbed into you. Maybe she realized through her breakdown that it was you holding her. Or she was just desperate for comfort. You weren't sure. It could be either or something else entirely with her. You held her regardless. Whispering soft phrases of comfort. Trying to ease her back to you.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you faintly heard what sounded like Jinx muttering your name. You looked to her and she lifted her head up. Eyes red from the tears that had fallen. They were softer, though. Nothing like the look Jinx had when you first found her. "How long have you..."

"Not sure," you admitted. Knowing she was asking how long you'd been there; wondering how much you had seen of her breakdown. Jinx sighed and slumped against you. Tired out from it all. Eyes half lidded. Your hands found hers, keeping them in your lap. Gently tracing her knuckles to soothe her.

"Why do you stay..?" Jinx asked after a long moment of silence. You didn't have to think about it. You knew exactly why. You loved her. Regardless of her faults. Jinx was yours; you would help her through hell if you had to. It didn't matter to you. As long as you got her.

"Because I love you. Imperfections and all."

Jinx's eyes searched yours. Looking for any sign of a lie. The slightest bit of hesitation. Anything to convince herself you weren't being truthful. But when she found none, her shoulders eased. Reminding herself you weren't like the others. You weren't her sister. You weren't Mylo, Clagger, Vander, Caitlyn. Or even Silco. You were you. Always there. Reminding her how much you loved her, no matter how insane she got. How out of place she felt. It never mattered to you. All that you wanted was her. Your loyalty was one of the things Jinx clung to. If she lost you...

The atmosphere was calmer now as Jinx's eyes met yours. The faint smile on your lips bringing her back to reality with you. "There you are," you murmured. Hand cupping Jinx's cheek. Feeling when she leaned into your touch. Jinx's arms wrapped themselves around you. Her legs clinging around your waist. Looking a lot like you had a koala attached to your front. Her face buried into your neck. You let the girl get comfortable. Knowing it was what she needed now more than ever," I've got you. I always will," your head came down and your cheek pressed to the top of Jinx's head. Your own arms latching around her. Trying to get impossibly closer.

"I love you, too," you could faintly hear Jinx's voice. Quite a bit quieter than how she normally spoke with you. The bubbly, energetic version of herself buried deep within. But her words were genuine nonetheless. You smiled and kissed the side of her head. Understanding that she just needed sometime to find herself again. A search you would gladly be the guide for.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (8)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: tensionnnn, seokjin (you'll see why)

A/N: literally fell in love with this jugnkook as i was writing this chapter. something abt him makes my heart flutter like why don't i have a man like this. AHHHH is the chemistry chemistrying for you guys? let me know your thoughts hehehehe.

part 8: when the camellia revs

The fairgrounds buzz with life as preparations continue, but you manage to steal a quiet moment under the shade of an old oak tree. The wooden bench you share with Sunjae feels like a small oasis amidst the hustle. Around you, the rhythmic sounds of hammering, laughter, and the shuffle of footsteps continue. Yet here, with Sunjae beside you, it feels as though time slows down.

A mischievous glint sparks in your eyes as you nudge him lightly. “So…” you begin, dragging the word out, savoring the way his ears turn pink before you’ve even finished the sentence. “How’s the boyfriend?” you giggle.

Sunjae tries to mask his shyness, but it’s a futile effort. He rubs the back of his neck, his smile growing wider by the second. “Yeonjun’s great." he admits, his voice soft but brimming with affection.

“We moved in together recently, and honestly? It’s been... perfect. He’s been crazy busy with work, but he still does these little things, you know? Leaves notes in my lunchbox, surprises me with flowers. The other day, he even cooked me dinner because I was too tired. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” he says, unable to hide his smile.

Your heart warms at his words. Seeing Sunjae so smitten makes your chest swell with pride and happiness for your best friend. “Oh, please.” you scoff, grinning. “You deserve every ounce of that happiness and so much more. If anyone’s lucky, it’s Yeonjun for having you.” you admit.

Sunjae chuckles, the light in his eyes undeniable. “You always know what to say to make me feel like I’m not completely fumbling through life.” As he speaks, he paints vivid pictures of their life together... how they met at a seminar, how Yeonjun’s attempts at karaoke had sealed the deal, and their shared dream of opening a quaint café someday. You can’t help but smile at his happiness, the way his words pour out like a gentle stream.

“You look well.” you say once he finishes, your voice soft but sincere. “I'm so happy for you, Jae.” you comment and he smiles at the nickname. It feels like he hasn't heard that in ages.

He beams at you, his grin infectious. “I could say the same for you, Y/n. You look… peaceful. I'm guessing your business is doing well, huh?” Before you can reply, an enthusiastic voice interrupts.

“Sunjae? No way!”

You glance up to see Taehyung striding towards you, his wide grin lighting up his face. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Juwon follow close behind, all breaking into delighted smiles at the sight of your old friend.

“Still stealing Y/n’s time, huh?” Taehyung teases, pulling Sunjae into a warm hug. “Some things never change.” Sunjae shrugs as he pulls away, looking towards the others.

The bench becomes a hub of lively chatter as introductions, laughter, and playful jabs fly around. Though Sunjae had grown closer to you over the years, his bond with your group remained intact, and their warmth feels as natural as breathing.

//

The next day dawns with a golden hue spilling across the horizon, but the calm of the morning doesn’t last long. As the sun rises higher, the town square transforms into a hive of activity, buzzing with a sense of urgency. The fair is just a day away, and it seems like everyone is working double-time to ensure everything is perfect.

Vendors rush to set up their stalls, the sound of hammers striking nails mingling with the rustle of fabric as colorful banners and canopies are hoisted into place. Children dart around, their laughter piercing through the air as they weave between workers. Volunteers carry boxes of supplies, their voices blending into a symphony of instructions, encouragement, and occasional exasperation.

You’re busier than ever, balancing tasks between your flower shop and the fair. Deliveries need to be organized, decorations have to be finalized, and last-minute adjustments seem to crop up at every corner. Even as you wipe the sweat from your brow, there’s a sense of exhilaration in the air, the anticipation of tomorrow’s festivities driving everyone forward.

Sunjae is bustling around too, overseeing the setup of a handmade crafts stall he’s managing. Every now and then, he glances your way, offering a quick thumbs-up or a smile, his own excitement mirrored in your expressions.

By mid-morning, your friends have gathered to help where ever they can. Namjoon is reviewing schedules, his meticulous nature ensuring no detail is overlooked.

Seokjin is joking with some of the younger volunteers, lightening the mood despite the frenzy. Juwon is coordinating with the food vendors, her authoritative tone cutting through the chatter, while Taehyung flits between tasks, his energy boundless.

And then there’s Jungkook.

You catch glimpses of him every now and then, his leather jacket swapped for a simple black tee, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed arm as he unloads heavy crates. The sight of it snaps something inside you and you have to look away to collect yourself.

He works silently but efficiently, his brows furrowed in concentration. Despite the chaos around him, he carries an air of calm focus that you can’t help but notice.

Occasionally, your eyes meet across the crowded square. Each time, it’s fleeting, just a moment before one of you looks away, but it’s enough to send a ripple of something unspoken through the air.

The hours blur together as the sun climbs higher. Despite the hectic pace, there’s a shared unity among the volunteers, an understanding that they’re all working towards something meaningful.

By late afternoon, the square is almost unrecognizable, transformed into a vibrant space brimming with life and color.

But as you glance at the clock, you know there’s still more to be done. The final stretch is here, and tomorrow, the town will come alive in a way that makes all the effort worthwhile.

For now, you push forward, the excitement bubbling beneath the surface, ready to see it all come to life.

//

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the fairgrounds, Mr. Jung’s voice booms from the gazebo. “Everyone! Can I have your attention?” he calls, clapping his hands. The volunteers pause their work, turning to face him.

“To thank all of you for your hard work, we’re hosting a little barbecue right here tonight." Mr. Jung announces, his smile wide. “Consider it a token of our appreciation. You’ve earned it!”

A ripple of cheers and applause follows, and your friends exchange gleeful glances. “Free food?” Seokjin exclaims, clutching his chest as if overwhelmed. “It’s a dream come true.”

“I’m claiming the first plate!” Juwon declares, practically bouncing on her toes. “Not if I get there first,” Taehyung counters, already sprinting toward the gazebo.

The group bursts into laughter, following him in a loose, carefree parade. The atmosphere is electric, buzzing with excitement for the evening ahead. After days of hard work, this feels like the perfect way to unwind... a celebration of effort, friendship, and shared memories.

As the preparations wind down and the golden hour fades into twilight, the barbecue at the gazebo comes alive. Bright fairy lights strung around the wooden structure cast a warm glow over the gathering, making the evening feel almost magical.

The air is filled with the enticing aroma of grilled meat and roasted vegetables, mingling with the faint scent of flowers still lingering from the day’s decorations.

You find yourself seated on the cool grass with Sunjae and your friends, the laughter and chatter creating a cozy bubble around you. Plates of food are passed around as everyone digs in, their voices blending with the soft strumming of a guitar someone brought along.

Namjoon is in the middle of telling a ridiculous story about one of his childhood escapades, which has Seokjin doubling over with laughter while Taehyung and Juwon argue about its authenticity.

The atmosphere is laid-back yet so so rewarding, just a close-knit group of volunteers unwinding after days of hard work. It’s one of those rare moments when you feel completely at peace.

Sunjae leans back beside you, his head tilted towards the sky as he points out a constellation he learned from Yeonjun. His excitement makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel immense joy for your best friend, who seems to have found his place and love in this world.

But amidst the relaxing chaos, there’s a tension simmering not far from where you sit. Jungkook has arrived with Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin, finally all done with their work for tomorrow.

The group makes their way to the grill, exchanging greetings and grabbing plates of food. Jungkook, however, doesn’t linger with his friends. His gaze immediately shifts to you, sitting closely with Sunjae, the man whose name he had just learned, as both of you laugh together.

His jaw tightens as he observes you leaning towards Sunjae, smiling so brightly it feels like the world revolves around you in that moment. And the man beside you... the same one from earlier who’d already occupied far too much of your attention is the cause of that smile. Jungkook feels his grip on his plate tighten, the urge to look away battling with the undeniable pull of watching you.

Throughout the evening, he steals glances at you. It’s infuriating how effortlessly you seem to light up the space around you. You laugh, tease Taehyung about his mismatched socks, and playfully swat Sunjae’s arm when he mimics Seokjin’s dramatic storytelling. Each stolen glance chips away at Jungkook’s resolve to keep his distance, leaving him restless.

As the night deepens, the cool evening breeze carries with it a sense of tranquility. The gazebo grows quieter, with fewer people remaining. Mrs. Kim, an elderly woman who’s been a pillar of the town’s volunteer efforts for years, approaches you with a soft smile.

“Y/n-ah, can you please fill my water bottle for me? They seem to have run out of water here, and I need to take my medicines now that I’ve eaten.” she says, holding out the bottle. “Your shop is nearby, so I thought I’d ask.”

You nod immediately, rising to your feet. “Of course, Mrs. Kim. I’ll be right back.” you reply warmly, taking the bottle from her. Your shop, just a few meters away from the gazebo, is still illuminated from earlier in the day.

Jungkook watches the interaction from his spot, his gaze sharpening as you walk off into the night with your usual grace. His chest tightens, and before he realizes it, his feet are moving.

He doesn’t know what compels him, but the idea of you being alone, even for a short while sends a strange urgency coursing through him.

Leaving his friends behind, who are too engrossed in their conversations to notice his sudden departure, he slips away. The cool breeze brushes past him as he strides towards your shop, his heart pounding in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he plans to say or do when he catches up to you, but he’s sure of one thing... he can’t keep this longing bottled up any longer.

The bell above the door jingles softly as you enter your flower shop, the familiar scent of blooms and fresh greenery enveloping you. The quiet of the shop contrasts sharply with the lively chatter of the barbecue behind you, making the space feel almost sacred.

You step past the counter and towards the storeroom, where your water filter is kept. It’s a cozy, tucked-away space filled with neatly labeled boxes of vases, floral foam, and ribbons.

The faint hum of the filter greets you as you flick on the light, placing the water bottle on the counter.

Humming softly to yourself, you begin filling it, the cool water rushing steadily into the bottle. While you're still inside, the shop’s door creaks open again and you don't really hear it.

Jungkook steps inside, his boots making almost no sound against the wooden floor as he closes the door behind him, careful not to alert you. The warm glow of the shop lights reflects off the rows of flower arrangements on display, casting soft shadows on the walls.

As he takes a step further in, his gaze locks onto the passage leading to the storeroom. It’s a narrow corridor lined with shelves holding tools and floral supplies. He knows you’re just beyond it. His pulse quickens, his resolve faltering for a brief second before he moves forward, his boots brushing lightly against the polished floor.

In the storeroom, you screw the cap back onto the filled water bottle, ready to return to the barbecue. Just as you turn around, you nearly jump out of your skin at the sight of Jungkook standing in the doorway.

“Jungkook?” you ask, startled. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His dark eyes meet yours, intense and unreadable, and for a moment, the small storeroom feels even smaller. His shoulders are broad, nearly filling the frame of the doorway, and his presence is so palpable it makes your breath hitch.

“I… I saw you leave,” he finally says, his voice low and rough. “Thought I’d check if you needed help.”

You blink at him, confused. “It’s just water, Jungkook. I can manage.” He steps further into the room, closing the door halfway behind him. The quiet hum of the water filter fills the silence between you.

“I know…” he admits, his gaze never leaving yours. “But… I just… I had to see you.”

There’s something in his tone... hesitation, maybe desperation, or even vulnerability that catches you off guard. You clutch the water bottle tighter, unsure of what to say. The tension in the air feels almost unbearable, like a string stretched too thin between you, threatening to snap.

“Why?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know.” he admits, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I just… uhh... seeing you with him...”

“Sunjae?” you interject, your brows knitting in confusion. The name tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

The effect is immediate. Jungkook takes a sudden step forward, his entire frame taut with an energy that feels almost dangerous. His eyes darken, their intensity cutting through you like a blade. “Don’t say his name.” he murmurs, his tone low, sharp, and commanding.

The air between you shifts. When did it get this heavy? You don’t even realize you’re retreating until your back meets the cold wall behind you.

A shiver runs down your spine, though you’re not sure if it’s the chill of the wall or the heat radiating from Jungkook’s advancing figure. The room feels smaller now, the walls closing in, leaving only him and the electricity thrumming between you.

He’s close... too close... and yet not close enough. But he inches forward, the words still hang in the air, and Jungkook hesitates, his frustration now palpable. He reaches out, his hands finding your waist, pulling you towards him. The water bottle slips from your hold, rolling away across the floor.

You’re not sure when the line between resistance and surrender blurred, but here you are, breath hitching as Jungkook’s grip tightens, pulling your body flush against his. The space between seems to vanish.

This moment, so surreal and unexpected, pulls you in. You don’t understand it, but who are you to question it? It feels like this is exactly what you've been craving for days... months... even years.

The warmth of him envelops you, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads to your fingertips. It’s overwhelming and terrifying, but it’s also exhilarating.

“Jungkook…” you whisper, breathless, feeling his body as he pulls you in even closer. His grip tightens, pulling your waist to his as he presses you against the wall, your bodies completely aligned now.

The room seems to shrink, too small, too warm with him so close. His eyes search yours, as if looking for something, and you meet his gaze. His hands, tentative but urgent, slightly slide under the hem of your top near your waist, his fingertips cold against your skin.

You part your lips, letting out a shaky breath, your body responding instinctively. He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours, both of you closing your eyes in the quiet intimacy. The world outside seems to pause, as if holding its breath, waiting for what might happen next.

Your knees weaken, and you grip the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him in closer. The distance between you is evaporating, but just as it feels like everything is about to shift, a loud bang of your store's front door opening from outside the storeroom causes both of you to snap apart, startled.

“Y/n!!!” Seokjin’s voice rings out, cutting through the silence. Him again? Really? you wonder, frustration mixing with embarrassment. This is the second time now.

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses, his hands instinctively covering his face, a flush of heat rushing through him as he tries to regain control of his rapidly escalating emotions.

Seokjin’s voice blares again, louder this time, and that’s when it hits you. He cannot see you like this, especially not with Jungkook.

“Fuck.” you curse under your breath, panic rising. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You scramble to move away from Jungkook, quickly grabbing the water bottle that had been abandoned on the floor.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in confusion, his head tilting slightly. Before he can ask, you hurriedly whisper. “He can’t know you’re in here!” Your voice is urgent, shaking slightly as you glance towards the storeroom door.

Realization dawns upon him like a light switch, and he nods. You're right, someone catching the two of you alone in a secluded space like this? Not good. He rakes his hand through his hair, already understanding how awkward this would look.

“Stay here until you hear us leave.” you plead, your voice barely audible but dripping with desperation. “Please don’t come out for at least five minutes. Promise me!”

Jungkook leans against the wall, arms crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite your panic. “Five minutes?” he repeats, teasing lightly, but he nods all the same.

“Yes, five.” you insist, holding up your palm in a gesture for emphasis, fingers spread wide. You’re already backing towards the door, the water bottle clutched tightly in your hands. “Y/n-ah! Are you done yet?” Seokjin’s voice echoes again, impatient.

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep, calming breath before yelling back. “Coming, Jin !! Just give me a sec !!”

Jungkook chuckles quietly at your flustered state, finding your panic oddly amusing. “You’re really worked up about this, huh?” he lowly murmurs, clearly entertained.

“Not the time.” you hiss, glaring at him before stealing a quick peek behind the door to check if Seokjin has entered the passage. Thankfully, it’s still clear. “Five whole minutes, got it?” you repeat, your tone stern, gesturing the number with your palm again for emphasis.

Jungkook leans casually against the shelf, his smirk growing. “Yes, boss.” he teases lightly, earning an exasperated roll of your eyes. Satisfied, you push the storeroom door open just enough to slip out. But as Jungkook watches you leave, his amusement is replaced by surprise when you suddenly pause.

Before he can process what’s happening, you turn on your heel and bolt back towards him, still clutching the water bottle in your hands. His eyes widen in confusion.

You don’t give yourself a second to overthink it. Standing on your tiptoes, you press a quick, feather like kiss on his cheek. Your lips linger for just a heartbeat before you pull away, the warmth of his skin burning against your own.

“I’ll see you out there.” you whisper, your voice soft and rushed, like a secret carried on the wind. And then you’re gone. The door creaks shut behind you, leaving Jungkook standing there, frozen in your storeroom. His hand slowly rises to touch his cheek where your kiss still lingers, his pulse racing.

An amused chuckle escapes him, low and disbelieving. He doesn’t move for a moment, still processing, before shaking his head with a small laugh.

Five minutes, huh? He’ll give you ten, if only to catch his breath.

//

Seokjin is here because, unbeknownst to you, you’d been gone far longer than you realized. As the two of you step out of the shop, his curious gaze falls on you. “What took you so long?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with mild concern.

Your mind races, briefly recollecting the moments that delayed you. Heat rises to your cheeks, but you quickly mask it, shrugging as you reply. “The water filter was acting up.”

Seokjin nods, accepting your explanation without question, and together, you make your way back to the bustle of the town square. The hum of laughter and chatter grows louder as you rejoin the crowd gathered near the gazebo.

Spotting Mrs. Kim, you walk over, handing her the filled water bottle with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry for the delay.” you say earnestly. She waves you off with a warm smile, her kind demeanor easing the guilt that lingers in your chest. “It’s no trouble, dear... Thank you.” she sweetly says.

Minutes pass as you blend into the sea of familiar faces. Yet, your gaze is restless, scanning the space almost instinctively until it lands on him.

Jungkook.

He crosses the street with practiced ease, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he moves towards the gazebo where his friends sit. Though he tries to appear nonchalant, there’s a subtle weight to his stride, as though he’s aware of your eyes on him.

As he reaches his group and takes a seat, his dark eyes flicker across the crowd, until they lock with yours. And this time, the glance isn’t fleeting.

For the first time, the world doesn’t rush to pull you apart. His gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and you feel the edges of the universe blur. A shy smile tugs at his lips, one that mirrors your own, and in that moment, the air shifts.

It’s as though the tension that had wrapped so tightly around you both has unraveled, replaced by something gentler, warmer, a connection that hums like a quiet melody between your souls.

The world around you fades into a hazy backdrop. The night feels alive, not with chaos, but with a strange, unspoken understanding that flows between you and him like an electric current.

Soon enough, the barbecue flames dwindle, leaving behind glowing embers, and the volunteers begin to disperse, bidding each other goodnight. The air fills with the promise of something grand, a collective anticipation for tomorrow's fair.

The town settles under a blanket of stars, its streets shimmering with the preparations for the festivities to come. As your friends get ready to leave for the night, you glance towards the gazebo one last time, catching a glimpse of Jungkook as he laughs at something Yoongi says. He doesn’t look your way again, but that’s okay.

With a deep breath, you let the cool night air fill your lungs and start walking towards your shop, ready to lock up and head home. A quiet sense of peace settles within you, as if the evening had unfolded just as it was meant to... full of moments both subtle and meaningful.

<- part 7 // part 9 ->

series masterlist

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape (lmk if i missed anyone<3)

[nephriteknight]

okay i need to talk about the Voice of the Hero (this became a much longer ramble than i expected but here you go)

throughout the game, the Hero almost never takes action. he'll express his disapproval, he'll make his case as hard as he can, but he never defies your choices or moves your hand. most of the time, once you've made a choice he disagrees with he'll even back your play. many times the Hero tells the other voices that the player is "the decider", and that they shouldn't be doing things against his will.

the only times i can think of when the Hero takes action are to prevent the player from acting against their will. he tries to stop the Broken from making us kill ourself, and even then only when the Narrator reminds him he can do so. he tries to stop Skeptic and Paranoid from preventing you from throwing away the blade in the Cage, but they physically overpower him (lmao). he keeps the body alive in Nightmare, but only after Paranoid shows him its possible; similarly, he'll help us throw ourselves into the basement in the Wraith, but only after Paranoid/Cheated suggest it and the player agrees. maybe there's other examples i'm forgetting or haven't seen yet (i am so close to 100 percenting this game but not quite yet) but these are the only examples i could come up with.

most of the other voices, meanwhile, do take action at one point or another. the only ones that don't (at least not that i can remember), are the Cold (who doesn't much care what you all do and likes having a decider to cut boring arguments short) and the Opportunist (who's whole thing is sucking up to whoever's in charge). the Hero, though, doesn't have such a clear cut reason. sure, an argument could be made that part of his heroic-ness is preserving the players agency, but you could just as easily argue that a hero would try to stop the player from ending the world or from slaying Princesses the Hero trusts. i think the real reason he doesn't act on his own is that he doesn't believe in himself.

in the Razor, the Hero says that he's "terrible at spotting liars", and in the Nightmare he asks the Paranoid to decide who to trust because he doesn't trust his own judgement. if you leave with the Princess at the end of the game, he thanks you for making the hard choices along the way. the Hero will always side with you; even if you ignore him and choose to slay Princesses he trusts, even if you decide to force him into an eternity of boredom he very much does not want (while the Skeptic does fight back against you), whatever it is, the Hero decides to trust your judgement over his own. (i think the only time you can actually get him to give up on you is pledging to the Tower? and even then all he does is sulk in a corner, he doesn't try to stop you from acting on your decision, even though its going to end the world.)

the thing is, most of the time i appreciate the Hero for letting us make our own choices, but sometimes the voices' actions are good. the Hunted's reflexes are the best example, and that's not the only time a voice takes control and helps keep us alive. but the Hero never intervenes on his own -- not until the very end of the game.

if the player tries to reject his help during the final battle, the Hero tells you that he's taking you to the heart anyways. he knows this is what you need to do, he knows this is the only way you can do what you've decided to do - so he ignores you, and he saves you. he's still backing your plays, he's still helping with your goals rather than overriding them, but he knows what he's doing. he's confident in himself, and he ignores your choice because he knows he can help you. and he's right!

[keepingitformyself]

marry, kiss, or kill me?

SYNOPSIS: in a quiet high school-like tenderness you find yourself again.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no???

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha romanoff always knew she wanted you.

from the moment she laid eyes on you for the first time.

she was so smitten. natasha romanoff was smitten, absolutely enthralled by another girl. not just any other girl though. you.

it wasn’t common for grad students like natasha to bud heads with undergrad students. but the exception was there when thanksgiving break had come around and the only people left in town to hangout with was yelena, kate, and kate's best friend, you.

and another brunette right behind you, clinging onto your arm. cassie was her name, natasha briefly recalled.

you’d heard about natasha romanoff before. yelena’s infamous, badass, scary, older sister. it wasn’t hard for her to earn a rep based on everything kate had told you.

to which yelena had always rolled her eyes at stating, “don’t worry, underneath all that leather she wears is actually a big softie.”

and then when kate showed you a picture of her, your eyes almost burst out. no one had told you yelena’s older sister was also devastatingly gorgeous.

still, you kept your cool. or you tried to. even after having had met her and realized just how intimidating she was in person.

it didn't help when you could feel natasha's gaze on you. subtle but unmistakable. a soft smirk tugged at her lips every time you laughed at something someone had said or done.

you remain close to cassie, your girlfriend, for most of the night. hoping that being close to her would serve as a shield for you. but deep down you knew the intimidation was really just how unfairly attractive you found natasha.

when cassie had excused herself to use the restroom and your efforts were short-lived and natasha found a moment to make conversation, just the two of you.

“how come yelena never brought you around sooner?” she sits beside you on the couch, her arm draping over it, casually. her gaze holds you steady as she brings the beer bottle in her hand up to her lips.

all you can do is shrug and say, “beats me.” you let out a soft laugh.

natasha considers you, then turns away with a soft smile, almost wistful. “such a shame.” she rasps out.

your eyebrows furrow and you have half a mind to ask what she means, but then

yelena notices all of this, because of course she does.

“sestra, accompany me to get more drinks from the kitchen, please.” it was a command. the redhead nods and follows yelena into the kitchen.

and when yelena finds herself alone with her sister she finally says,

“i don’t appreciate you making lustful eyes at my friends.”

natasha slowly moves to face her. pausing her actions to refill the glasses. yelena is there, arms crossed, looking at her with a slight disappointed look.

natasha shakes her head with a quiet laugh. a knowing smile tugging at her lips. though, it wasn’t like she was trying to hide her intentions.

“didn't think you'd catch that.”

yelena snickers and turns back to her task at refilling drinks.

“well, you weren't exactly subtle.”

natasha huffs a quiet laugh. she won't deny her actions, natasha wasn't the type to lie. "relax baby sis, i was just...getting a feel for the crowd."

yelena snorted, shaking her head as she finished up with the drinks. "well don't bother. cassie and Y/N are together. have been for years.

that made natasha pause. the smirk she wore faltering slightly and all she can muster up to say is a silent "oh."

despite the obvious disappointment, natasha masked it well enough. natasha wouldn't wallow over something like this. she didn't need to, especially when it was something that was out of her control.

natasha nodded in silent understanding. her expression unreadable, but yelena had caught the brief flicker of emotion.

the weeks after thanksgiving went by in a blur. cassie and you had returned to your usual routines, but something had shifted. it was subtle at first. she still made you laugh, and you still blushed when she'd whisper cute somethings in your ear.

you'd loved cassie lang for ages. you were so sure she'd been the one for you, but sometimes life decides to change it's course.

it wasn't anyone's fault, just the unraveling of something that once fit so perfectly together.

you kissed her with tears in your eyes before you officially called it quits.

the following days were heavy on you. you kept your distance from crowds for a while, opting to just hang out with kate or yelena.

word spread quickly in your circle of friends. yelena mentioned it to natasha one night.

"Y/N and cassie broke up," she said so casually, a handful of popcorn being stuffed into her mouth.

natasha froze for a second, trying to mask her reaction. "oh?"

"yeah. it was mutual i think." yelena added. she turned to natasha. "you're not gonna...?"

natasha scoffs, turning her gaze back towards the television. "i'm not an idiot, yelena. i'm not about to be someone's rebound."

still, the news was heavy on her chest. she contemplated what this could mean. natasha still wanted you, just like she always has, but not like this. not when you were still so fresh out of something so heavy.

you found yourself slowly spending time with kate and yelena, and by extension that also meant natasha.

natasha was still an ever-present force. she stayed in the periphery, keeping her distance, not wanting to push. but she was always there.

you'd catch her laughing at one of your jokes, or your hands would brush on accident whenever she'd hand you a drink. you still weren't sure how to go about the tangled mess of your emotions.

one thing was for sure, you had gotten out of a four year relationship, you had no idea if you’d even be entertaining the idea of jumping into anything so soon.

but natasha romanoff had made you think otherwise.

yelena had invited you to her apartment, everyone would be there. it could be fun, she said. you hesitated, not sure if you were ready to face people, let alone natasha.

she was already there when you had arrived. sitting on the couch next to yelena, her presence just gushing with confidence.

someone had suggested playing marry, kiss, or kill. and you internally groaned at the possibility of having to face your weird feelings for someone you were sure you shouldn’t want.

you didn’t know what to make of it when kate started ripping pieces of paper and scribbling names onto them.

“childish.” yelena had muttered from across the room. she shook her head with a slight distaste.

it was childish. yet you couldn’t help the giddiness at the idea of it all. it felt so high school. like you were keeping a secret and no one knew it.

when it came to your turn to pick, you became nervous. everyone’s eyes were on you, but natasha’s gaze on you was a lot softer than the rest.

like she was anticipating something you both wanted to happen.

the names on the paper read,

cassie, kate, natasha

you read a loud the names.

“marry…kate.” you teased, smirking towards the brunette. kate whooping at your answer.

“kiss, cassie.” you said softly, the small smile on your lips alluding to your love for her.

you could feel natasha’s eyes on you piercing heavily as she anticipated your final answer.

“and kill….natasha.” you said and the room bursted into laughter.

“harsh.” natasha said, though the smile tugging on her lips told you she could play your game just as well.

the night went on. and eventually everyone settled on watching a movie, to which you were only really watching half-mindedly. you could tell natasha was too, as you kept catching her gaze from time to time.

you excused yourself after a while. “need some air.” and you made your way to climb into the fire escape yelena had.

it only took a few moments for natasha’s presence to follow yours outside.

“you okay?” you find yourself asking.

she snorts, “i should be asking you that.”

“i’m getting there.” your gaze turns back to the city in front of you.

it’s quiet for a few more moments. you and natasha both bask in the silence, but it’s impossible to not hear her think, even if she says nothing, you know she wants to. eventually she breaks the silence,

“so, you want to kill me huh?” she jokes and you huff out a laugh.

“it was just a game.”

“was it?” natasha’s lips curve into that that infuriatingly confident smile. she leans on the railing beside you, her face inches from yours. “i was kinda betting on all three for us two.”

her words almost catch you speechless. your heart was racing, and you urge yourself to keep it together. but all you can focus on was the way she was looking at you now.

you shake your head, barely able to meet her gaze, “i just got out of a four-year relationship, nat.” you tell her it with the utmost sincerity. you’re trying to let her know it won’t be so easy, even though you may want her just as much.

“i get that.” natasha nods. “i just…” she trails off, searching for the right words. “i wanted you to know that if things were different, i wouldn’t have wasted a second.”

and her confession almost makes you lose all sense of sensibility. the vulnerability in her admission hitting you like a wave.

the days that followed were slow, yet everything natasha did felt like some choreographed dance. like she was just waiting to take the wrong step.

natasha gave you space, but she never quite felt far away.

you were at yelena’s again. kate along with a few other friends were also there.

then you spotted natasha from across the room, talking to two men you knew as steve and bucky.

you’d known she would be here, but something about her gaze meeting yours and the way it made your heart race—natasha romanoff sure knew how to make you go crazy.

you felt like a highschooler seeing her crush in the hallway on her way to class, hopelessly smitten and completely out of your depth.

natasha romanoff was the hottest being you’ve ever laid your eyes on, you were sure of this.

it made me you feel so helpless. the way her eyes would strike yours and all you wanted to do was cower and hide away.

her eyes held yours as she maneuvered through the crowd to get to you. you were buzzing, you hadn’t felt like this with anyone.

when she was finally in front of you, you hade to take a deep breath in.

“hey.” she said. you could feel her breath hit your lips. and you were sure that if the hand that held her drink between you was moved to her side, you’d be close enough for your lips to touch.

“hi.” your lips twitched into a smile. your head tilted to the side and you bit your lip to refrain from trying to let out a giggle. gosh, you were a mess.

you were silent for a few seconds.

“you seem deep in thought.” she said.

“just thinking,” you admitted.

“about?”

you hesitated, then decided to screw it. “you.”

her lips twitched up in a smile. “yeah?”

“don’t get an airhead.” you joked.

“okayyy.” she drawled. and you both broke into a fit of giggles. you appreciated how easy it was for such an intense moment to become so lighthearted.

the night drew on. people slowly left and the small gathering slowly turned into a movie night. yelena had insisted on watching shrek 2.

natasha and you were sitting side by side, just a little to close for it to be causal. you could feel the heat of her body beside you, the small movements of her as she tried to act normal, but neither of you were really paying attention to the movie.

you shifted a little, nudging her knee with yours. natasha’s head snapped in your direction, her eyes meeting yours for just a second before she looked away quickly, like she was caught doing something she shouldn’t. you couldn’t help but grin.

"do you actually like this movie, or are you just pretending?" you asked, trying to keep the tone light, but your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been.

"it’s classic," she said, her voice a little too casual. "donkey’s a mood."

you laughed softly, a little too loudly for the rest of the group to miss, but it didn’t matter. natasha shot you a quick glance, her lips curling up at the corners like she was holding in a laugh of her own.

you sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. "i can’t believe i’m sitting here next to you, watching shrek 2 with a girl who's way cooler than i am."

natasha’s head snapped toward you again, her eyebrows raising. "what? you think i'm cooler?" she asked, clearly caught off guard.

you shrugged, pretending to be indifferent, but the goofy grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. "maybe," you teased, nudging her knee again.

she shot you a playful look, like she was about to say something snarky, but instead, her voice softened. "you know," she started, glancing at you with a mix of curiosity and hesitation,

“i don’t mind the movie, but i wouldn’t mind doing something else.”

your heart skipped. "like what?" you asked, almost whispering, your gaze dropping to your hands.

natasha shrugged, trying to act casual again, but her fingers twitched. "i don’t know. just... hanging out with you." her eyes flicked to yours again. "it’s nice.”

you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. "it’s nice," you repeated, and for a moment, the noise of the group and the movie faded away.

it was just you and natasha sitting a little too close, both of you pretending like everything was normal even though your heart was racing.

the next few minutes passed in a quiet, comfortable silence. you weren’t sure what to say next, but then natasha, ever so subtly, slid her hand closer to yours. you glanced down at her fingers, already knowing what she was doing before she even did it, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you reached out and brushed your pinky against hers.

her hand stilled for a second, and then, just as quietly, she tangled her fingers with yours. it was the smallest, simplest gesture, but it felt like everything. your chest tightened in that stupid, teenage way, and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face.

"you know," you murmured, barely above a whisper, "this is really embarrassing."

natasha squeezed your hand, her voice just as quiet. "what is?"

"this whole... thing. you know, us. being all... crushy and awkward."

she laughed, the sound soft and warm, and it made your heart flip. "i think it’s cute," she said with a grin, her thumb tracing the back of your hand like she was just figuring out the rhythm of it. "but i get it. i feel the same way."

you smiled, a little shy now, but the warmth from her hand in yours was enough to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. neither of you had said it out loud, but it was there. the understanding that you were both on the edge of something more, and you didn't need to rush it.

natasha's thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles again, and something inside you melted. you couldn’t help it—the urge to move closer to her, to feel her even more, had become impossible to ignore.

"nat," you whispered, your voice almost shy now. your fingers tightened around hers, just a little, like you were afraid she might pull away.

she didn’t. in fact, her hand tightened in yours, too, and she tilted her head to look at you, her gaze lingering a little longer than usual.

this was the moment, and you both knew it.

you felt the pull. the need to bridge the space between you, to close the tiny gap that had always kept you just shy of crossing the line. your breath hitched in your throat, and your eyes flicked down to her lips before snapping back up to meet her eyes.

"can i—" you started, but the words seemed to stumble out before you could finish.

natasha didn’t give you a chance to say more. she leaned in, her hand gently cupping the side of your face, her touch soft but firm, like she was finally giving in to the same pull you’d been feeling all night. you didn't hesitate. your heart was pounding as you leaned into her, closing the distance in one smooth motion.

when your lips finally met, it was like the world shifted. soft and tentative at first, as if you both were still trying to figure it out, but then she deepened the kiss, her fingers sliding into your hair, and everything else fell away. the warmth of her, the sweet pressure of her lips, made your head spin.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dazed, natasha smiled at you—a real, genuine smile, the kind you hadn't seen from her in a while.

"that was..." she started, her voice a little shaky, but her eyes sparkled with something soft and happy.

"yeah," you replied, still in a daze, grinning like an idiot. "that was... perfect."

she chuckled, leaning her forehead against yours for a second, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "you’re not as bad as you think, you know that?" she teased, her voice low and playful.

you looked at her misty eyed, your breath hitting her lips. “i don’t want to be careful with you.” you found yourself saying.

natasha’s heart twitches at your words, giving her a quiet reassurance that you’d be letting yourself go now. that despite the risks here, despite how fragile in state your heart may be, you were willing to put it all on the line.

and in whispered words she says,

“you wont have to be.”

[keisgirl]

those eyes; kozume kenma

pairing; classmate!kenma x reader

wc; 1k

something about golden hazel eyes… guys i don’t know what happened to my border its so thick rn

you weren’t subtle. never had been. boldness came naturally to you—it was easier to speak your mind than to bottle things up. but kenma kozume made it hard to tell if your boldness was a strength or a curse.

he sat in front of you in class, quiet and unassuming, his golden hair falling in soft strands over his shoulders. he always looked like he didn’t belong here, like the noise and chaos of the classroom was something he tolerated, not something he lived in. you found excuses to talk to him. small things at first. a tap on his shoulder here, a whispered question there.

“hey, kenma,” you said one morning, leaning forward. your fingers brushed the edge of his desk.

he turned around, his golden eyes meeting yours, and you forgot what you were going to say.

“what?” he asked, his voice low and indifferent.

“uh,” you stammered, blinking quickly. “just wanted to make sure you were awake.”

his lips twitched, barely a smile, before he turned back around.

that was how it always went. little moments, brief exchanges, where you let yourself get lost in the color of his eyes. they were golden, yes, but not in a sharp, bright way. they were soft, like sunlight through a window, warm and distant all at once.

it was those eyes that made it impossible to stop.

you flirted with him more often than you probably should’ve, pushing boundaries just to see how far you could go.

“you talk a lot,” he said once, without looking at you.

“and you don’t talk enough,” you shot back, poking his shoulder lightly.

he turned, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “too tired for that.”

you laughed, the sound a little too loud, a little too bright. “or maybe you’re just bad at talking to people.”

his gaze lingered for a moment before he turned back around. “maybe.”

your classmate beside you snorted, elbowing you lightly. “you’re so obvious,” they whispered, their voice dripping with amusement.

“and?” you shot back, refusing to let the heat in your face show.

because sometimes, kenma’s small reactions—the faint smiles, the soft looks—made it feel like maybe he didn’t mind. like maybe your voice wasn’t just another sound in the background. but other times, your teasing bounced off him like rain against glass, leaving no mark at all.

“you’re always so serious,” you said one day, leaning forward to tap his shoulder.

he didn’t turn around right away, and your heart sank.

“kenma,” you tried again, softer this time.

he finally turned, his expression blank. “what?”

“nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a laugh. “just wanted to see your face.”

his eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you felt your chest tighten.

“you’re weird,” he muttered, turning back around.

it wasn’t the first time he’d said that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

your classmate leaned closer, their voice low enough not to draw attention. “he’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

“shut up,” you mumbled, though you knew they were right.

you’d trapped yourself in a cycle you couldn’t break. because for every small smile, every fleeting moment when he let his guard down, there were ten times when he didn’t react at all. when he turned away before you could even finish speaking, leaving you to wonder if you were wasting your time.

you were wasting your time.

you knew that.

kenma wasn’t indifferent out of cruelty; he just didn’t see you the way you saw him, but something about the way he didn’t move when you tapped his shoulder or the rare way his lips curled when your jokes hit their mark kept you trying.

“if you keep ignoring me, i might have to find a new seat,” you said one day, leaning a little closer than usual.

he turned around, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “then find one.”

your heart twisted, but you smiled anyway, masking the sting of his words. “nah. you’d miss me too much.”

he didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of a smile crossed his face before he turned back to his desk.

it wasn’t enough.

it was never enough.

you wanted him to see you—not just as the annoying person who sat behind him, but as someone who mattered. someone he might actually care about. but kenma kozume wasn’t someone who gave much of himself away, and you were too far gone to stop hoping for a piece of him anyway. you told yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d take what you could get.

but every time you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself falling deeper, and you knew there was no one there to catch you

[wileycap]

Vi's journey broke my fucking heart and I do not see anyone talking about it, so I will.

The Writing In Arcane Was Very Good, Actually (SPOILERS)

The core of her character is that Vi lets herself be hurt. Again and again, and she asks nothing for herself. In S1E2 when she's talking to Vander, she says "I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down here. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it."

Not "I want more than that." She says "I grew up knowing I'm less" and even then, she's already accepted it. It's fine if it happens to her.

When Jinx blows up the council, again it's "I can do this alone, nobody else has to get hurt." She doesn't want the badge, but she takes it anyways because if she doesn't, Caitlyn will be hurt. So it's fine if it's her principles that get tossed out. It's fine if it happens to her.

When Caitlyn hurts her, again - she directs all the harm at herself. She doesn't grab Cait and beat the shit out of her for hurting her. She goes and becomes a pit fighting alcoholic so that she can keep the pain where it belongs, with her. It's fine if it happens to her.

And then... Jinx comes to get her, and they get Vander. She gets to see Jinx be a big sister, try to carry more so that Isha could carry less. And she sees Jinx lose what she lost. (I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play.)

She tries to help Jinx again and she gets hit with another betrayal. Except this time... Jinx wants to make the same choice Vi always makes. "You don't need to feel guilty about being happy. You deserve to be with her." She's no longer judging Vi or resenting her, because after Isha, how could she? She understands Vi. She understands her too well.

When she's completely broken down, Caitlyn comes in. And Caitlyn isn't upset or angry, no, Caitlyn knew she'd go to her sister and planned for it. Caitlyn accepted her and her need and put aside her own need for revenge.

This is followed by the best sex scene I've ever seen. Now, you have to understand that sex scenes make me uncomfortable, so this is like, high praise from me.

Vi expects to be punished. "Say it. 'I told you so.'" She is literally imprisoned by her mind (wow, filmmaking 101!). And she expects to be taken out of there, to be put back into the fight (like the first time Cait set her free) so she can be hurt and be useful.

And instead, Caitlyn opens the door and steps inside. Into Vi's prison ("Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation.") To give her understanding and love and most importantly, time. They have more important things to do. There's an invasion coming. And still, Caitlyn puts Vi first.

And Vi lets her. She initiates it, she leans into the comfort and intimacy being offered. It's actually beautiful.

(And then Jinx comes back to help, too, - healing that wound - and even though she loses her again... she can allow herself to move on and be happy. Like she never could before.)

(And we know Jinx survives, but she leaves because yes, sometimes you have to walk away. Sometimes meaningful healing can't happen if you're stuck in the same situation.)

(And Caitlyn figures it out, but doesn't tell anyone. She learned how to forgive and move on, and she's letting Vi do the same.)

"You've got a good heart. Don't ever lose it, no matter how the world tries to break you."

She didn't.

[4ngelfawn33]

Inexperienced 𓇼 Bsf!JJ x Inexperienced!Reader

summary: Your lack of experience is something you've always been embarrassed about, lucky for you, you have a best friend who's willing to teach you everything <3

You, for lack of a better word, are inexperienced. Not in the "I don't know what the word sex is," way, but in the "I haven't even kissed a boy," kind of way. It was something you always felt a bit ashamed of, when your friends have conversations about their intimate lives, you can never add anything interesting to the conversation. You get teased about it of course, and though it's all in good fun you can't help the way your cheeks burn whenever the topic of sex comes up. The person who gives you the hardest, no pun intended, time about your inexperience, is of course your best friend, JJ Maybank.

It's a discussion point you actively try to avoid with JJ just because of how… vulgar he is. He is, for lack of a better word, a giant whore. Even if you don't like JJ Maybank, you want JJ Maybank, and you unfortunately, are no exception to that rule. That's what makes conversations like these doubly embarrassing. Talking about sex with your crush who has way too much experience under his belt is, at best, awkward.

That's why today, when you invited him over, you really tried your best to avoid talking about the very mediocre date you when on the night before. Unfortunately for you, that's all JJ wanted to talk about. You lay in your bed, JJ sitting right next to you, shamefully trying to avoid every sex related question he asks you.

"Look! I'm just sayin' it wouldn't be hard to convince him to ya know… " JJ eyes you up and down for a moment before smirking. "hit that."

Your cheeks heat up at his comment, and you playfully smack at his chest.

"JJ, not everything is about sex!" You groan, turning you face away from his in embarrassment. "Besides, I don't want him to hit anything. It was just one date."

"Well mama, what do you want? Cause' I know how embarrassed you get when someone mentions that un-popped cherry of yours." You gasp at his crude wording and he chuckles beside you.

You sit up, turning to him with your mouth agape.

"JJ you are so gross! Can you not just call me a virgin like everyone else?" He shrugs at you before averting your gaze and picking at your comforter.

"Nah, like' seein' how embarrassed you get." You roll your eyes even though he can't see it, gently shoving him.

"You're an ass JJ."

"Sometimes." He shrugs again, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You turn to him, his brows furrowed together as he is very obviously lost in thought.

You take a moment to admire his features, strands of blonde hair falling into his face, his eyelashes kissing his skin when he blinks, lips slightly parted. His head suddenly turns to you, the air suddenly thick with tension. You think of saying something, anything to cut the tension, but before you can speak JJ does.

"What if— like I dunno, what if someone you trusted showed ya how to like, do things?" Now it's your to furrow your brows, head tilted in confusion.

"What are you talking about? What things?" He sits up, running his hands through his slightly matted hair, attempting to grapple his thoughts.

"Like, sex stuff ya know? Maybe someone you trust could like— show you." Your face heats up once more and you quickly avert your gaze from his, attempting to casually shut down the conversation.

"I— I mean maybe? I don't know! Why are we even still talking about this…" You move to get off your bed, when you feel JJ's hand gripping your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

"JJ…" The tension in the air is disgustingly thick, your heart pounding against your chest.

He pulls you back on the bed and towards him and by the time he's done basically manhandling you, you're nearly on his lap. For a moment the only thing the both of you can do is look at each other, heavy breathing with your mouths agape. You try to speak but the words feel heavy on your tongue.

"I'm gonna be honest— I really want to kiss you right now, like really fucking bad." The heat you feel in your cheeks intensifies at his words.

"JJ you can't just like, I don't know, I can't just do that kind of stuff casually! Everything would just be awkward after and I-"

"Who said it had to be casual?" Your eyes widen at him.

Oh. Oh.

Before you have a chance to overthink things, you press you lips into his, clumsily attempting to kiss him. You feel his fingers gently grip the back of your neck as he takes over the kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth. His kiss consumes you, taking the air out of your lungs. After a few seconds, you pull away, your forehead pressed against his while you attempt to breathe again.

"So…" He says after a few moments. "I could like— teach you some other things… If you wanna."

You giggle, nose brushing against his.

"You're unbelievable."

[promise-you-doie]

From Home | Jung Jaehyun

For all the valentines who wanted Jaehyun to win the cold war between him and Doyoung. I hope this alternative ending fufils your every need.

Under 1k words I think

Jaehyun x reader (Exes to Lovers)

A little angst lots of fluff

Home Series

"Drive safe." You stop at the door, and Jaehyun halts mid-step, turning back to look at you.

"You’re not coming?" he asks, brows furrowing slightly.

You shake your head. "I don’t want to leave him alone."

Jaehyun presses his lips together, the disappointment flickering across his face unmistakable, but he doesn’t push. "Okay," he says softly. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. "I’ll call you. Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jaehyun," you murmur faintly, watching as he walks to his car. The sound of his engine starting and the sight of his taillights fading down the driveway linger in your mind as you close and lock the door.

Dragging yourself upstairs to your bedroom, you exhale deeply, fingers brushing back your hair. The weight of the day settles in your chest like an anchor.

Doyoung is seated on the edge of your bed, his posture tense but his expression unreadable. He glances up as you enter, offering a small, tired smile that you attempt to return.

"Hey," he says softly, tugging lightly on your wrist as you approach, gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

You don’t move, sinking onto the bed next to him instead, your body heavy with exhaustion. There was a time when his touch brought you solace, but now, not even the memory of that comfort could quiet the chaos in your mind.

"How do you feel?" he asks gently, ignoring the growing space between you.

"Tired," you breathe, your fingers brushing through your hair.

"You can talk to me," Doyoung urges, scooting closer.

You inch further away, avoiding his gaze. "I just… I’m really tired, Doyoung. I need to sleep." You sigh, glancing toward the window instead of meeting his eyes. "We both need to sleep."

"Actually," he says, his voice steady but firm, "I think we need to talk." His hand gently turns your face toward him.

You grab his wrist, lowering his hand. "Where do we even start?"

"Let’s start with the fact that you left without saying a word. Did you think ignoring me would make everything disappear?"

"I’m not good at this," you reply, your voice low. "You know that. It’s how we got here in the first place."

"We can’t ignore it either." He moves closer, his presence unrelenting, his gaze sharp.

"I slept with him." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

Doyoung freezes, his face unreadable, though a flicker of resignation flashes in his eyes. Like he already knew.

"And I still love him," you add, barely above a whisper, your hands twisting in your lap as you avoid his gaze.

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. "So… what does this mean?"

"I think you know what it means." You stand, wrapping your arms around yourself as you face him. "I love you, Doyoung. But Jaehyun and I… we—"

"I was there for you when he wasn’t," Doyoung interrupts, rising to his feet and taking your hands in his.

"I know," you say, your voice trembling. "I was broken, and you were there to catch me. I fell in love with you because you gave me what I needed. But I never stopped loving him." You meet his gaze, tears stinging your eyes. "He knows me in ways you don’t. There’s a connection between us that I can’t ignore, no matter how much I tried."

Doyoung nods slowly, his expression softening. The silence between you is deafening. He releases your hands, his own rising to cup your face.

"I love you," he says quietly, his thumbs brushing soft circles against your cheeks. "And I wish you nothing but the best. I’m sorry I couldn’t make us work out.” 

You shake your head, your lips trembling. "Don’t say it like that."

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms one last time.

"Goodnight," he whispers as he steps back, his hands falling to his sides before he walks to the door.

You watch him go, his figure disappearing down the hall as he leaves your room.

Something feels different. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s heartbreak. Maybe it’s both. All you know is that tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day, and for now, you just need to sleep.

"Good morning!" Joy chirps the second you answer your phone, her voice bright and bubbly. "So, what happened?"

You press your lips into a thin line. "I should’ve known you had something to do with this."

"I knew exactly what I needed to do to set you straight," she replies smugly, a playful smile lighting up her face on the screen. "So? Spill. How did it go? When are you guys coming back?"

"Umm…" You rub your forehead, the weight of the conversation from last night pressing down on you. "I’m assuming Doyoung probably took the next flight back, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already home."

Joy’s smile falters, confusion creeping onto her face. "What do you mean? Where are you? Why aren’t you together?"

You take a deep breath. "We broke up."

Joy blinks, her expression going blank for a moment, and then she asks, her voice laced with confusion, "Well, yeah. You guys were on a break, I get that. But that was just until you got back to LA. Then you’d get back together, and everything would go back to normal."

"No," you say, shaking your head slowly. "We’re not getting back together. We talked last night, and… seeing him again made me realize it’s not the same anymore."

"What’s not the same?" she presses, her tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "You haven’t been apart for that long."

"I don’t care about him the way I care about Jaehyun." Your voice softens, trailing off like you’re ashamed to admit it out loud. "I love Doyoung, but it’s not the same kind of love I have for Jaehyun."

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. You can practically feel Joy’s internal struggle, and when she speaks again, her words come out slow, like she’s carefully choosing them. "Obviously, I’m not thrilled about this," she says, her voice tight. "But it’s your life, and you’ve got to do what makes you happy. If… Jaehyun’s who makes you happy," she falters, unable to say his name without a moment's hesitation, "then I won’t stand in your way."

"Thank you," you say, a genuine smile breaking across your face.

"You’re still coming back, though, right?" Joy asks, her tone a little lighter now.

"Yes, I’m definitely coming back," you assure her with a nod. "I can’t stand another day in Connecticut."

"Good," she says, perking up. "I missed you so much. I’m giving you the biggest hug when you get here."

"I missed you too, Joy," you reply, your voice soft with emotion. "You have no idea."

"Well," she says with a sigh, "I’ve got to run, but… I love you. I’ll see you when you get here, okay?"

"Love you too," you reply just before the call ends.

Not a second later, your phone buzzes with a text from Jaehyun.

Jaehyun: I’m outside. 

You rush to your window, and sure enough, Jaehyun is standing next to his parked car. A smile creeps onto your face as you take a deep breath and head to the door.

“You’re early,” you say, opening it to greet him.

He shrugs lightly, his gaze meeting yours. “You didn’t answer my call last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I was so tired, I just passed out.”

Jaehyun’s eyes flick to your bedroom window before returning to yours. “So… is he here?”

You shake your head. “No. He left last night.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods. “I’m guessing you two talked.”

“We did.” You pause for a moment, then say it outright. “We’re not getting back together.”

The corner of Jaehyun’s mouth lifts, his dimples deepening as his smile widens. “Thank god,” he says, stepping closer and leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips.

You smile against him, your heart skipping a beat as you pull back slightly.

“So… we’re still on for LA?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” you tease, grinning before leaning in for another kiss.

1 month later 

You step into the empty apartment, Jaehyun’s hand clasped softly in yours. Your heels click against the smooth hardwood floor, the sound echoing in the silence. With each step, you feel the weight of the new chapter you’re about to begin, the new memories you’ll make. Jaehyun’s fingers are warm against yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment wraps around you like a soft blanket.

As you walk through the space, your mind starts to drift. You imagine staying up late on the couch together, laughing through cheesy movies. You picture cooking meals in the kitchen, Jaehyun at the stove while you chop vegetables beside him. You can almost hear the crackle of the vinyl player as it spins your favorite songs, the two of you slow dancing around the room with no care for time.

You think about mornings—waking up next to him, your feet tangled in the sheets, the sunlight streaming through the windows. You imagine the little arguments over the thermostat, his warm hand on your back as you work at your desk, the quiet moments that will fill the walls with life.

This apartment, this space, is where all of your dreams will come true. It’s where you’ll build your home.

Turning on your heel, you walk backward, your fingers still intertwined with Jaehyun’s. He watches you, a small smile on his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft and steady.

You smile, leaning in closer to him, your lips brushing against his cheek as you speak. “I’m thinking about how much I love you,” you say, your heart swelling at the simple truth of it.

His eyes soften as he leans down to kiss you, gentle and slow, like he’s savoring the moment. “I’m thinking about how I made the right decision,” you murmur, kissing him again, your lips lingering on his.

You pull back, meeting his gaze. “I’m thinking about how I can’t imagine this without you.” Another kiss.

Jaehyun pulls you closer, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “And I’m thinking about how I’d choose you again and again and again,” you whisper, your heart racing as he presses his lips to yours once more.

Jaehyun’s smile is bright, his hands warm as he lifts you off your feet, kissing you deeper, spilling all the love he couldn’t give you while you were apart. You laugh softly against him, and before you know it, you slide off him, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the window.

The city sprawls out before you, Los Angeles glittering below like a sea of stars. Jaehyun stands behind you, his arms slipping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You lean back into him, the rhythm of his heartbeat against your back steady and comforting.

For the first time in a long time, you feel at peace. You’ve finally made that little girl inside of you proud. You’ve achieved all of the dreams you had when you were eighteen—your dream apartment, your life in LA, and the man who has always been there for you, right by your side.

You tilt your head slightly, looking up at him. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaehyun kisses your cheek, his lips soft against your skin. “There’s no other way,” he says, his voice full of certainty.

The end for real this time.

[tkomptgoedluv]

just like heaven.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.2

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, joost has always been down bad and no one is surprised, quite angsty, lots of comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 2,494.

warnings: references to SA, detailed mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: pt. 2 is finally here! i’m sorry it’s taken so long and thank you all for waiting <3 — i really can’t tell if i hate this part or not. it feels both dragged out and rushed, but i wanted to add more backstory to their relationship and leave a half-open ending incase anyone wants a pt. 3. i apologise if it’s awful. enjoy! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

you hated hospitals.

you weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like you’d ever spent enough time in one to actually form your own opinion until now.

but you did. you really, really did. they were too cold and the lights were too harsh, you couldn’t stand all the bare white walls, and seeing so many sick people all together made you feel nauseous. especially the older ones — if it wasn’t for the steady beats of their heart monitors, you would’ve assumed that they were already dead.

you weren’t like them; you weren’t sick. if it wasn’t for joost and his promise of buying you a pack of your favourite cigs, you never would’ve come here. you were the type to take a few ibuprofens and carry on as if nothing was wrong, as if simply taking a couple steps around your living room wasn’t enough to make you cry.

as it turns out though, that actually would’ve made things a whole lot worse for you.

apparently you needed a lot of different stitches in a lot of different places from how badly he had torn you up. the doctor even praised you for coming in when you did, saying that you could’ve died from several different infections had you left it all untreated. you tried not to let yourself think about that for too long.

the good news however, was that it was all an easy fix somehow. the stitching, whilst absolutely horrible, didn’t take longer than an hour or so and you were given just enough painkillers to last until all the bruising goes away. really, not a lot of time had passed before you were being discharged with a stack of leaflets all advertising local therapists. you chucked them into the very first bin that you saw.

you fucking hated hospitals.

it was snowing again by the time you made it out of the main doors, small specks of white collecting in your hair and wetting your eyelashes. you loved the cold and especially the snow, but it was something that you really could’ve gone without right now. the cold that consumed you only worsened each ache and pain that you felt, from the tops of your shoulders all the way down to your knees.

you were already shivering by the time you reached joost. he had perched himself on a nearby bench, a cigarette in one hand and what looked like a paper bag of pastries in the other. it brought a toothless smile to your face, the kind that could actually reach your eyes, when you realised that he still remembered.

it had been three years ago that you had first met joost and the rest of the group; two and half since that day. you hadn’t seen it coming, not when you had been doing so much better than you ever had before. you were going out more and socialising, eating better, and staying on top of the little things like the dishes and laundry. for once you actually felt human and not like just some basket case.

you weren’t ready to wake up that one morning, a fine layer of frost dusted across your bedroom window, and feel like you couldn’t move. you laid there and watched the sun fight to be seen until it dipped below the skyline, leaving you to wallow in the dark, alone. you’d ignored every buzz of your phone until they eventually stopped, and still cried when they did. you cried until your eyes grew heavy, having worn yourself out beyond the point of staying awake.

when a quick knock at the door had woken you up from your sleep, you ignored it like everything else. you curled up further in on yourself and prayed that whoever it was would just give up and leave you be, that they would walk away and let you rot in the sanctity of your own bed. it was there that you listened to their knocks slowly turn desperate until they stopped, only to be followed by the sound of your spare key turning in the lock.

as light flooded in from the hallway, the open door engulfing your small studio in shades of orange and yellow, you heard your own name break the silence.

“psst, hey it’s me, it’s joost. are you home?”

you cried again, right then and there at the sound of his voice.

with your whole entire heart you adored all of your friends but with joost it was just…different. it was on the very first day of that music festival you’d bumped into him, oblivious to who he was and how he was one of the names on the lineup. he still wishes that you could’ve seen the look on your face when he took you backstage, letting you watch his show from the wings. after that, the two of you had more or less been glued at the hip.

for seventy-two hours straight, you had spent every minute with him and the rest of his friends. they all welcomed you in with open arms, and for whatever reason seemed to love almost as much as he did. stuntje was already referring to you as his ‘little sister’ by the third day, and nathan was set on making you a permanent fixture in the group.

but you were still you, though. the more everyone pushed to get to know you, the more of an effort you made to keep them all at an arm’s length — for both your sake and theirs. except you never really could with joost, and now he was there, fumbling around in your living room as he tried to make a beeline for you in the dark.

no one had heard from you in two days.

what had felt like mere hours, a single afternoon at most, had been two days. that was why he was there with you, sat on the edge of your bed with a hand rubbing your back, begging for you to talk to him. when you wouldn’t, he offered you the compromise of at least joining him for breakfast and revealed a small bag of pastries before you could say no.

“i had a feeling you’d be hungry; call it a mother’s intuition.”

through all of the tears and snot, he’d made you laugh. it was weak and hoarse, and made the very back of your throat burn, but it was still a laugh. joost had taken it as a yes and helped you sit up, fully committing to the bit and ‘mothering’ you in every way that he knew how, like slipping his own hoodie over your head the very second he saw you shiver.

it was like that you had sat and ate each and every single one of the pastries with him, and later forgave him for all of the crumbs you were still finding in your bed a week later.

and now here he was, almost three years later, clutching yet another bag of those pastries in his hand. you became thankful for the snow when your eyes began to turn red and water, your bottom lip starting to tremble ever so slightly. you could blame it on the cold then, blame it on something rational like a snowflake getting in your eye instead of admitting that you were crying over croissants.

“hey! how was -” joost almost slipped on a patch of ice when you near-enough tackled him, burying your face in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his middle. the sheer force of it knocked the cigarette from his other hand; he seemed not to notice. “hey…you good?”

a cold hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers gently scratching the back of your scalp.

“you remembered the pastries.”

even as the words were still coming out, they felt silly; you felt silly. nobody with their head screwed on straight would be getting all teary-eyed and weepy over their friend picking up some breakfast. besides, there was still the chance that for joost, that was all it was — a sweet but small thing that he could do for you on a day guaranteed to be awful.

but joost just wasn’t one to do things small. there was always intent and meaning in everything that he did. you knew there had to be something else behind it, something worthy of all these tears in your eyes.

“well yeah, i’ve got that motherly instinct, remember?”

you laughed as you pulled away from him, wiping your sore eyes with the palms of your hands. there was no point in trying to blame it on the cold or the snow anymore, you knew that just from the big doe-eyed look that joost gave you. he’d caught a glimpse of your wet cheeks and the penny had finally dropped.

it almost hurt him knowing that for even a moment, you had honestly thought he wouldn’t have remembered the pastries.

that day — two years, six months, and thirteen days ago, was burned into his memory whether he wanted it to be or not. he hadn’t known much about you back then, but knew enough to know that you hadn’t gone M-I-A for two days simply because you were caught up with work or family. he also knew that showing up to your place unannounced and uninvited was a bold move on his part; you hadn’t known a great deal about him, either.

joost wasn’t very good at losing people. when you meant something to him, you were like family, and joost couldn’t quite cope with losing family.

honestly, he already really liked you and liked having you around, and that only made it worse for him when all of a sudden you weren’t anymore. you’d been at every one of his shows, every group-meet at whatever bar was deemed most convenient for the night, and every video shoot that was in desperate need of another extra. in his defence, he had tried calling first. infact, he’d called you around six times before turning up on your doorstep that morning.

joost pulled you back into him, resting his chin on the top of your head. it wasn’t your doubt in him that stung like the cold that nipped at his fingertips, but how you could never find it in yourself to believe that someone would want to do something for you. especially him, because surely you knew by now that he would do absolutely anything for you, right?

the words were on the very tip of his tongue. with you in his hold, the both of you together in the snow, he really wanted to say it. wanted to promise that he’d buy you those pastries every day for the rest of his life if you asked him to. wanted to squeeze you and shake you and tell you that of course he would, because you could ask him to jump and he’d only say ‘how high?’

instead, joost simply smiled when he finally let you go. he had to trust that it said everything he wanted to say for him, because you wouldn’t ever let him actually say it, would you? but now also wasn’t the right time, either, because the snow was falling harder and he could feel the tremor in your hands as he held them.

“cmon, you’re coming back to mine.”

you didn’t argue, nor did you resist when he started to lead you in the direction of his house. it made the most sense; it was a lot closer and despite all of the pain medication you were on, you still didn’t feel like walking. plus, you really liked joost’s place. it was bigger than yours, and nicer, and felt a lot more like home than your own flat did sometimes.

he was still holding onto your hand as the pair of you headed back down the highstreet, slipping past the few others that were brave enough to face the weather. with your head kept down low, you never saw how joost keep looking back at you every couple of steps, searching for any signs of hurt or pain.

“you know, you still haven’t told me how it went in there. everything okay?”

“yeah, everything’s fine.” you hesitated saying anything further and only continued once you felt a small squeeze of your hand, a quiet way of coaxing you to keep going. “they had to stitch me up a bit — said i have to take it easy and that i’m going to be on these pain meds for a while, but yeah. i’m gonna be okay.”

“i should’ve broken a lot more than his nose.”

immediately you shook your head, a few strands of hair falling in front of your eyes as you did so.

“no, you shouldn’t have. you shouldn’t have even done that.” it was hard to miss the scoff that immediately followed, as well as the few swear words that joost then muttered underneath his breath. “i should’ve broken his legs, actually.”

you pulled on his arm hard enough to get him to stop, and to turn and face you. there was nothing left of that sweet smile he once had, only a hardened jaw and a look that seemed to worsen the bruising around his eye.

“you and i both know that you’re not that guy, joost. you don’t do things like that.”

“i would for you.”

the way he said it, so obviously as though he shouldn’t have even had to say it at all, took you back. joost was a lot of things, a lot of kind, wonderful, stubborn things, but he wasn’t violent. last night was the first time you’d ever seen him behave like that; it had scared you then, and to hear him say that he’d do worse if he could, scared you now.

he wasn’t like you, he actually had something to lose. if those videos from last night got out, the ones of him throwing punches against three different guys, that could cost him everything. festivals could drop him from their line ups, brands could double back on their partnerships, other artists could pull out on their collabs. you couldn’t make sense of why none of that seemed to matter to him, why his whole career seemed to be an afterthought compared to you.

you couldn’t be worth all that trouble.

“why? why for me?”

joost really did have the worst luck, didn’t he?

had it been any other day, any other place, joost would’ve been screaming from the rooftops by now. he’d let not just you but the whole of amsterdam know just how much he was stupidly head over fucking heels for you. here you were, asking him to speak those very same words that he’s been swallowing down, because finally you were ready to hear them.

how bittersweet it was, that it just wasn’t the right time.

“i’ll tell you later, schatje. promise.”

[rainbogen]

[Art by @caroline-draws-stuff ]

Based on the NES sprites, I present you with the Identical Twins au. In which Mario and Luigi were born as... well... identical instead of fraternal twins.

Their bodies and physical capabilities are, with very few exceptions, completely identical. Same strength, same jumping height, same stamina, etc.

Ditto for their looks. For those who are wondering, Luigi's green eyes are contacts he got because he liked the color. He's tried to style his moustache like in the games, but for some reason the hairs never want to stay in that shape for long.

Sonething similiar applies to their physical stats, which can be temporarily altered via beans, but have this strange tendency to reset themselves to the identical base values every so often...

That said, Luigi's steady diet of mushrooms during his formative years has made him slightly taller. It's no more than 2 cm and one can only notice it when they're not wearing hats, when their hair floof doesn't get in the way, and upon looking very closely, but that difference is there.

So are they 2 of the same person? Absolutely not. Mario's still the cheery, outgoing, optimistic, stubborn to a fault one. Luigi's still the clumsy, easy to scare, brave, inventive one.

But if one only looks at their appearances, it's easy to get them mixed up. How likely that is to happen varies from person to person.

For better or worse, their parents can always tell them apart effortlessly. (The bros grew up in the Brooklyn part of New Donk City and moved to the Mushroom Kingdom as adults.)

Their friends and other relatives can mostly tell them apart, though they do occassionally mess up. The bros can also pull a twin switch when they want to, just with a bit of effort.

As kids they liked to swap their shirts and hats when nobody was looking and pretend to be the other one for fun. They can still do it as adults, just with more difficulty, but rarely take that initiative.

There was one particular incident when they were in grade school. Mario had missed a major test due to being sick that day and was not good with the material, so Luigi offered to take it for him. Mario just needed to take Luigi's place for a few hours. This did not work for long, as some bullies wanted to pick on "Luigi" while his brother was away and Mario didn't take kindly to that, to say the least. Meanwhile, the teacher saw through "Mario" due to certain handwriting quirks, recognizing familiarly worded answers, and Luigi having signed the test in his own name. Both of them ended up with detention that day.

Strangers and acquaintances mixed them up quite regularly. The reason the brothers went with their NES colors as adults instead of the matching look was to make each other stand out more.

During their first mission to rescue Peach, Mario did most of the work with Luigi occasionally chipping in to help. This, along with Mario's more outgoing personality in general, led to many assuming they were the same person.

And when Luigi went out in public to do things like shopping and used his own name, the Toads either assumed he's Mario making jokes or using an alias to avoid drawing too much attention and decide to "play along".

The brothers being adressed by their surnames by many people in the beginning meant this development wasn't noticed until it had already spread. Some even went as far as to say the idea of Mario having a brother was just a rumor.

To say Mario wasn't happy about this when he found out is a massive understatement. As soon as he heard the news, he cashed in a favour from Peach and she assembled a public conference just so Mario could clear up the misunderstanding. And gush about how cool his lil bro is while he was at it.

Meanwhile Bowser, despite having fought both brothers, at first didn't even catch on to them being two different people. He just thought it was Mario using wearing different clothes or using power ups. Once Kamek finally managed to clue him in, he's taken to calling Luigi "Green Mario" because he knows just how much Mario hates that.

Luigi's clothing choice of white overalls as a plumber had gotten him some playful ridicule from his relatives. He's taken it as a challenge though, with him keeping a log of all the jobs he's done without getting them dirty.

There was one incident where Luigi dyed his hair green. The twins have taken a blood oath to never bring it up again.

[trueangel420]

Purging ㅤ♡

mentions of religion—pre existing relationship, kit walker x reader, !! you are his nurse and a nun so yay ㅤ♡ (updated cus i posted the wrong version LOLL)

You had been working at Briarcliff for years. It wasn't so much a choice as a necessity—you had nowhere else to go, and they happened to be hiring. Over time, you became familiar with Kit Walker. Close enough, in fact, to know he was a good man—a damn good man. Yet, Sister Jude seemed determined to break him. She made it her mission to turn his life into a living hell, relishing every opportunity to punish him. Perhaps she believed it would cleanse her of her own sins. But some people, Kit included, could see straight through her self-righteous facade.

It was another day of Kit saying his Hail Marys. Whatever he had done this time had pushed Sister Jude to the edge, and she had him confined to that room for what felt like an eternity. Days passed, and Kit seemed fine—on the surface. He moved through the lounge with a quiet grace, talking with Grace and the others, his steps steady and composed. But you couldn't help noticing something was missing. The light in his eyes wasn't the same, and his smiles felt more like shadows of what they used to be.

You found yourself frowning when you saw him with Grace, though you couldn't explain why. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly. Something about him seemed off, like he was carrying a weight no one else could see. Every time you walked by, his gaze would lock onto you, his eyes following you as if drawn by some unseen force. He tensed up whenever you caught him staring, quickly looking away, but the tension lingered. Kit didn't know how to explain it—what he felt, or why it was happening. But it consumed him. Around you, his chest felt tight, his breath shallow, and his cheeks flushed in a way he'd never experienced before. He hated how his thoughts betrayed him. When he cooked with Grace, he imagined it was you beside him instead. Every little thing reminded him of you, leaving him restless and overwhelmed.

Not even the crack of Sister Jude's cane against his bare skin during punishments could drag his mind away. Each strike was supposed to cleanse him, to focus him on repentance, but it only left him more haunted by the thought of you. 

You began to notice the way Kit avoided you. When you brought him food or greeted him, he'd shift away as if you carried some kind of sickness. It stung, and no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, you couldn't understand what you'd done wrong.

Eventually, the frustration became too much. Without giving it a second thought, you marched to his room, barely taking a moment to prepare yourself before pushing the door open.

He didn't look startled. In fact, he looked like he'd been expecting this, his eyes slightly glazed as he watched you shuffle inside. "Kit?" you began, your voice shaky with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You're avoiding me. You're avoiding me and treating me like I'm some sort of... stranger." Your voice cracked at the last word, and with it, all the emotions you'd been holding back spilled out. The betrayal, the confusion, the ache of watching someone you cared for pull away—it all rushed to the surface, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"I want you," he repeated, softer this time, but no less resolute. The way he said it wasn't a question or a plea—it was a declaration, raw and unfiltered.

The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. You let out a small gasp, your body reacting before your mind could catch up, stepping back toward the door. Your lips parted as if to respond, but no sound came out.

"I want you," he repeated, softer this time, but no less resolute. The way he said it wasn't a question or a plea—it was a declaration, raw and unfiltered. “I confessed,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter but no less intense. You froze, your back nearly pressed against the door as his words settled in. There was something raw in his tone, something that made your chest tighten. “Confessed?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. His dark eyes stayed on yours, unblinking. “To the priest. To God.” He swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “About everything. About you.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the weight of his confession. You didn’t know whether to run or to stay, but his gaze held you captive, as if daring you to do either.

The door shut behind you with a soft click, leaving Kit inside as you leaned against the cold stone wall, your apron still wrinkled where he had tugged it. Your mind raced, trying to process what had just happened—the way he spoke, the eerie calm in his voice, the sudden vitality in his appearance. Something about it all felt... wrong.

Minutes passed before Sister Jude arrived, flanked by a priest. The heavy thud of their footsteps echoed down the hall, snapping you out of your thoughts. Jude's gaze immediately fell on you, sharp and suspicious.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked curtly, adjusting the rosary draped around her wrist.

"I was just—" you started, but her glare silenced you.

"The priest and I will handle this now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She glanced at the closed door, her expression unreadable, before turning back to you. "Go about your duties."

You nodded stiffly and stepped aside, lingering just far enough away to watch. Jude unlocked the door and ushered the priest inside, closing it firmly behind her. For a moment, you stood frozen, straining to hear anything from within. The hallway was silent, save for the faintest murmur of voices. You couldn't shake the unease that coiled in your chest, a gnawing feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

You didn’t know what they were doing to him. Hours passed, and the anxiety gnawed at you as you chewed on your bottom lip, pacing back and forth. They had shooed you off to some other part of the asylum, but the pit in your stomach told you that whatever was happening to Kit wasn’t right.

Grace would glance at you occasionally, her wide eyes gleaming with that unsettling smile she always wore. It wasn’t comforting—it never was. It sent a shiver up your spine every time, like she knew something you didn’t. Something you might not want to know. Still, you couldn’t stop the thought that whatever was happening behind those locked doors was cruel and unjust, and the helplessness of it all made your chest tighten.

Suddenly, the lights began to flicker, casting eerie, uneven shadows across the walls. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as a faint scream echoed through the asylum. It was distant yet piercing, the kind of sound that clawed its way into your chest.

It sounded like… no.

Your heart pounded as you looked around, your body moving on instinct. You scrambled to your feet, urgency in every step as your legs carried you back toward the rooms. Your eyes darted down the dimly lit hallways, searching for any sign of him.

Then the lights went out entirely, plunging the building into total darkness. You stumbled, disoriented, the silence punctuated only by the faint, deafening scream that refused to stop. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

The air felt heavy, oppressive, as if the entire asylum was holding its breath. You reached out blindly, trying to feel your way toward his door, but it was as if the halls had shifted, confusing and endless.And then, just as suddenly as it began, everything went silent. Not a scream, not a flicker, not even the faint hum of the building’s electricity. The stillness was absolute, and it left you standing there, paralyzed with dread.

Twice a day, you went in—cleaning his wounds, bringing his food, checking on him. But today, something was different. His skin was unnaturally pale, glistening with sweat, and his fists clenched and unclenched as if trying to fight off some invisible torment. His eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw locked.

You wrinkled your nose as a foul odor hit you, sharp and sour, like something had died. The stench clung to the air, heavy and oppressive, despite your certainty that the room had been cleaned—you had cleaned it. "Kit?" you murmured softly, pressing a cold rag to his forehead. He sniffled faintly, turning his head away from your touch. The small movement felt like both a rejection and a plea for help, and your chest tightened with worry.

Concern gnawed at you until it became unbearable. Storming into Sister Jude's office, you demanded answers—or at least intervention. But she only glared at you, her expression cold and dismissive. "It's his sins," she said sharply, waving you off. "The Lord is purging him of his actions." Her words were cruel, an absolution of her own inaction. For two more agonizing days, Kit remained the same. His health worsened, and his fever lingered, making every labored breath sound like a struggle. You fed him, cleaned him, tended to him as best you could. If you didn't know better, you'd swear he was on his deathbed. You suspected the flu—or worse, a dangerous infection. Desperation pushed you to seek help from the bald doctor, the only one who could intervene. But he refused to see Kit, brushing you off with an infuriating air of detachment. "I have more important matters," he said, leaving you to care for Kit alone.

You paused outside his door, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. As usual, you carried a pack of cigarettes, stolen medicine from the doctor, food, and water. But something felt different this time—worse. The air coming from his room was icy and unnaturally still, heavy enough to make your skin crawl. You could swear you'd hear a pin drop inside.

Slowly, you pushed the door open, peeking in cautiously. He was awake, sitting up with a startling intensity in his eyes. His gaze locked onto yours, so sharp it made your heart skip. The room was freezing; you could see your breath clouding in front of you.

"Darlin'," he rasped, his voice low and soft, cutting through the eerie silence like a knife. He sat up on the floorboards, his movements smooth and untroubled. The sickly pallor of his skin was gone, replaced with a warm, healthy glow. His brown hair fell messily across his forehead, a single curl resting just above his brow. He looked... angelic. Serene. As if the past few days of suffering had never happened.

Tilting his head slightly, he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it with an easy grace. His gaze softened, and he beckoned you closer.

"Come here," he said, his voice calm yet commanding.

He reached out, his hand gripping the front of your apron and tugging you closer. You stiffened, your breath hitching as his dark eyes locked on yours. "Mr. Walker, I—" you started, but before you could finish, his hand dipped into your pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes.

You'd never been this close to him before, and the proximity made your heart race. "You're nervous," he said softly, his voice almost teasing. "But you've been taking care of me for days. You cleaned me." It was as if he had read your thoughts, and the heat rose to your cheeks. He fiddled with the pack, pulling out a cigarette before reaching under his pillow to retrieve an old lighter. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he struck the lighter with ease. The flame briefly illuminated his features, sharp and intense, as his dark eyes roamed over you. The scrutiny made you feel bare, as though he could see straight through you.

"Purging me of my sins," he said suddenly, exhaling a puff of smoke.

The words jolted you, and for a moment, you stood there, confused. Then Sister Jude's earlier remark came flooding back. "How did you hear that?" you asked, your voice quiet but urgent.

He leaned his head back, the cigarette still perched between his lips as he smiled faintly. "I don't know," he murmured. "Everything's been a bit foggy." His tone was calm, almost detached, as though he was piecing together fragments of a dream. "Oh, Kit..." you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched him. His sudden change still felt surreal, but at least he looked like himself again. "At least you look better. Do you feel better?" He nodded slowly, his expression softening as he looked at you. His nose wrinkled slightly, as if trying to shake off a lingering thought. "Yeah... I feel better," he said, his voice low but steady. "Thank you, darlin'. You're the only one who came to see me. I didn't know what was going on."

The way he said it, his gratitude so raw and sincere, made your chest ache. He looked at you like you were his lifeline, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say.

"I didn't know you felt... things for me... like that," you said abruptly, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your eyes darted away from his, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. Was this immoral? Wrong? It should have been. But being this close to him felt unnervingly natural, like something inevitable.

His expression didn't waver, steady and unreadable. "You didn't?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with something you couldn't quite place.

The weight of his words hung between you, pulling your gaze back to him despite yourself. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered—"You didnt tell me what happened either... with sister jude" you coughed out awkwardly

"You didn't tell me what happened either... with Sister Jude," you coughed out awkwardly, your voice breaking the tense silence.

Kit tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours. There was a flicker of something in his expression—pain, hesitation, maybe both—but he didn't answer right away.

"I didn't think you wanted to know," he finally said, his voice low, almost cautious. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his messy hair, the movement slow and deliberate. "It's... better if you don't."

His words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't tell if he was trying to protect you or himself. Either way, the avoidance only made you want to push further, though the weight in his tone made your stomach twist.

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twelve: Discontent

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Eleven

Description: Dumbledore is a bit odd (expected), Lily is kind (what else is new), and James…well, he's a whole other matter.

Word Count: 4.9k

McGonagall’s boots clicked against the floor as she moved at a clipped pace down the corridors, glancing over her shoulder every once in a while to eye the three of you following behind. Her mouth was still pursed, everything about her wound like a coil. As you neared the Grand Staircase, more students began to pass, regarding your odd group with curious stares and whispers to their friends. McGonagall gave every wayward student a harsh look of warning, sending a fair few shrinking away. 

You hurried behind McGonagall blindly, never having visited Professor Dumbledore’s office before, leaving you with no real idea where it was located. She led you up the staircase to the second floor, winding down a hall which was entirely vacant of students or professors. When you turned down another long corridor, you were taken aback by the sight of a golden gargoyle looming at the end. You tried to search Peter’s expression for some explanation, though his gaze darted from yours, back to McGonagall who had come to a stop in front of the figure. 

“Cherry clafoutis,” she said, her hands coming to clasp behind her back. 

In a moment, the gargoyle came to life, its newly animated eyes appearing to search those who stood before it. Once it had made its judgments it moved aside, the stone wall it had been guarding splitting into two, sliding open to reveal a spiral staircase. 

“Wait here,” McGonagall instructed before stepping inside the entrance and onto the first step. Without a word, the staircase began to turn upwards, carrying McGonagall until she disappeared into the ceiling. The stone wall closed behind her, though the gargoyle did not move back to its original position. 

A beat passed before Peter sighed, his head dropping forward. “How long do you think this is going to take?”

“You’re the one who’s been called to his office before. You tell me,” Marlene said, crossing her arms.

“That was different! This might take hours, for all we know.”

“You’re the one who wanted to do it so early,” you grumbled. “I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“It wasn’t my idea to do it now,” Peter muttered under his breath.

“You’re getting rather outspoken lately,” Marlene said, her brows furrowed as she watched his frown deepen. “I’m not sure if I like it.”

Suddenly, the stone wall opened again, the staircase turning to lower McGonagall to your level. She quickly emerged, peering across you all in a far less stern manner than she had all morning. Marlene uncrossed her arms, straightening out her jumper as McGonagall neared. 

“Miss McKinnon,” she began, “Professor Dumbledore would like to see you first.”

“Alone?” Marlene asked, her eyes widening. 

“Yes,” McGonagall answered curtly. 

Marlene nodded, moving past McGonagall towards the staircase. She stepped up, her eyes meeting yours as she was carried up, the walls closing behind her like they had before. 

After a few agonizing minutes in which no one spoke at all, Marlene came back out, her countenance largely unchanged. You attempted to read what had happened from her face, though it proved impossible. 

“You’re next, Mister Pettigrew,” said McGonagall, motioning towards the entrance. 

The same event occurred as Marlene. Peter was taken up the stairs, held for a few minutes, coming back down not any more uneasy than he was when he left. This did little to calm your heart when McGonagall looked at you, speaking even though it was plainly evident what she would say. 

“Miss L/N,” she said, urging you inside. 

You took a breath, stepping forward into the opening in the wall, gazing up at the expanse of the staircase. It seemed to go on for stories and stories, how many you could never begin to tell. After a second or two, you slowly began to rise, the sound of the stone moving like a steady drum in your ears. The walls closed behind you, leaving you all alone. 

At the top of the staircase was a single, shining oak door, in the middle of which was a regal griffin knocker. As you wondered if you should knock or wait to be called, the door opened, Professor Dumbledore standing before you with a pleasant, muted smile. His appearance was the one and only thing you really knew about him, besides the speeches he made a few times a year. His hair and beard were long, half silver and neatly combed. Just like always, he wore traditional wizard robes, this time in a shade of deep scarlet. 

“Miss L/N,” he greeted, his voice far more jovial than you had been expecting. 

“Hello, Professor,” you said, a bit at a loss for words. You had no prior experience to inform you how one usually acted in these sorts of situations, leaving you to fly by the seat of your pants. 

“Come in,” he said, stepping away to allow you inside. 

Your nerves nearly dissipated completely when you entered his office, taken aback by the windows facing the mountainside, the rain streaking diagonally across the panes casting shadows along the floors. Various planetary models littered the room, as well as towering cabinets, tables, oil lamps, and chairs. Bookshelves lined the rounded walls, above them dozens of portraits in golden frames, all dozing to the sound of the crackling fire burning in the hearth. As your mind wandered to every new, dazzling sight, Dumbledore moved about the room, walking to a massive desk strewn with papers. In front of it was a large chair, presumably for you. Broken from your trance, you scurried towards it and sat down, though your eyes were soon pulled from Dumbledore again. 

“That is Fawkes,” Dumbledore said, glancing behind him at the phoenix sitting on a perch. “I hope you will not mind if he is present for our meeting.”

“No, not at all, sir,” you said quickly. 

“I have all ready received a full account of the events from Professor McGonagall, as well as from Mister Pettigrew and Miss McKinnon,” he began, staring at you over his half-moon spectacles. “Quite the tale, I must say. Do you make a habit of wandering the corridors after curfew?”

“No, sir.” Your nerves had returned, especially since your first answer was a stone cold lie. 

He did not speak for a moment, seeming to consider your answer. “Tell me again how you three in particular stumbled upon this meeting,” he asked, his tone light and somewhat amused. 

You swallowed, captured by his penetrating gaze, which although was not menacing, seemed to know you far better than it should. “We were going to the kitchens when we saw Zephyr on the Grand Staircase. We were curious, so we followed him from afar—”

“Yes, yes. This is what your associates said as well,” he chuckled. “I did not know you and Mister Pettigrew were close.”

“Not particularly, but we each share a love of a late night snack.” 

Dumbledore laughed again, more hearty this time. “Professor McGonagall says you are a fair student, though a bit distracted as of late,” he paused, his smile dropping, though he still did not appear upset with you. “Would you care to tell me why? Perhaps it is something your professors can help you with.”

“I think I’m just getting nervous about the N.E.W.Ts, nothing a bit of studying won’t quell,” you answered, trying to force an unaffected expression.

“You are in the Astronomy Club, are you not?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Professor. I joined second year.”

“Astronomy is one of your best subjects, I see,” he said, glancing down at some of the papers lying in front of him. He picked one up, reading it briefly. “That and Divination. Professor Quattlebaum has some lovely things to say regarding your work, particularly on your most recent assignment.”

Your hands fiddled in your lap, your heart beginning to beat faster than ever. You hadn’t even gotten your essay back yet, though it was rather comforting to hear you aced it. You wondered what Professor Quattlebaum had written about you, if he mentioned the specifics of your project. 

“Divination was never my best subject,” Dumbledore began again, dropping the paper back down on his desk. His small smile returned, partially hidden beneath his beard. “I trust yours and Miss McKinnon’s words, as well as Mister Pettigrew’s, in this case. I have no doubt that what you all have told me regarding your peers' activities is the truth. I would ask you to extend your trust to me as well. I promise that I will deal with the situation accordingly,” he paused, his eyes darting down to your nervous hands before returning to yours. “You have my word you shall remain safe while under my care.”

You nodded again, trying to return his kind look the best you could. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss L/N?” he asked. 

“No, Professor.” 

“I will keep you no longer, then.” Dumbledore stood, running his hands along his robes as he walked around his desk. You followed him over to the door, glancing behind you at Fawkes, who was still preening on his perch. Just as Dumbledore’s hand reached for the brass handle, he turned back to you, his robes billowing out a bit around his feet. “Until Professor McGonagall tells you otherwise, please take all your meals in the kitchens. I am sure you know where to locate it.”

You nodded as he opened the door. “Thank you, Headmaster,” you said, forcing yourself to look up at him. You felt it may have been a mistake, for Dumbledore’s eyes glimmered, seeming to peer into all your lies and the things you longed to keep hidden. 

Despite your worries, he spoke nothing of your demeanor or your falsehoods. “You are quite welcome,” he said warmly, watching as you stepped back onto the spiral staircase, shutting the door behind you. 

The first thing you noticed when you walked through the opening was Marlene’s frantic eyes, her head motioning for you to hurry up. Thankfully, she was behind McGonagall, who could not see her outburst. 

“I trust you three can make your way back without my assistance,” McGonagall said, turning to each of you. 

“Yes, Professor,” Marlene replied. 

With a final, stringent look, McGonagall went back to the staircase, the walls closing and the gargoyle moving back to the guard over the entrance. Your shoulders relaxed, finally without a professor watching your every movement.

“What did he say?” Marlene asked.

“Basically nothing,” you said with a small laugh. “What an office, though.”

Marlene rolled her eyes, following you back down the corridor, Peter rushing along as well.

“I think he believed us,” he began, “or he didn’t care.”

Marlene breathed fast out of her nose, shaking her head. “Probably the latter.”

“It doesn’t matter. We only had thirty points taken, which is peanuts compared to what we could've gotten,” you said. 

“Do you know what they’re going to do?” Marlene asked after a beat.

“No, only that I have to eat in the kitchens for the foreseeable future,” you whispered despite the fact that you three were the only ones in the corridor. After Lady Decima, it was a force of habit. 

Marlene sighed. “I wonder what they’re going to do with them. Do you think they’ll go to the Department of Law Enforcement?”

“I don’t know,” you said hesitantly. “Probably not. I’d imagine they like to keep things in-house as much as possible. Besides, they haven’t committed a crime yet. I’m not sure what the Ministry would even do with them.” 

“Snivellus on trial,” Marlene said. “That’ll be the day.”

Peter laughed a bit, less skittish now that you were all a safe distance from Dumbledore’s office. 

“Don’t say that sort of thing in front of Lily,” you warned, looking to each of them. “I feel bad enough for her as it is. I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s feeling.”

“We tried to warn her,” Marlene said, her voice low.

“Doesn’t matter,” you began, matching her sullen tone. “He wasn’t always like this.”

You and Marlene left Peter on the Grand Staircase to head for the kitchens while he went to the Great Hall, fortunate to not be under the same restrictions as yourself. While you offered to eat alone, Marlene wouldn’t hear any of it, refusing to leave you to dine in the kitchens by yourself, save for the house elves. 

When you arrived at the painting of a bowl of fruit, tickling the pear to reveal the entrance, it burst open almost immediately. You and Marlene jumped back, startled by Isby standing with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed as she stared you down. 

“Who goes there!” she said, putting on her most threatening voice, though it remained rather high-pitched. Behind her, the tall stone walls littered with brass pots and pans reflected rays of light from the large fire, illuminating the room in a warm glow. 

“Oh,” you said, glancing at Marlene before telling Isby your name. Marlene did the same, though she did not stand down from her post. 

“Headmaster Dumbledore has told Isby not to allow anyone but Miss L/N into the kitchens,” she began, now looking towards Marlene. “I is sorry, Miss McKinnon, but Isby cannot let you in.”

“I am friends with Miss McKinnon,” you said in an attempt to persuade her. “I promise, she is not who Professor Dumebledore is trying to keep out.” Isby did not move, nor did her face change. “I swear it.”

A moment passed where Isby eyed Marlene with great suspicion, her large ears moving back a fraction when you stepped forward. 

“Isby is not pleased,” she said slowly, “but I will allow it.” She stepped aside, allowing you and Marlene to pass through into the kitchens. 

“Thank you, Isby,” you said with a smile towards her, though she only squeaked, turning away to leave you both be. 

─────────•°•❀•°•─────────

The seriousness of your predicament came and went, sometimes overpowering all other thoughts, other times like the noise of a radio turned low in the background. For the first part of the morning, the daunting task of having to report Mulciber and the others took over your mind, though that was now over and done with. As you walked back from the kitchens with Marlene, silent and brooding, all you could remember was the fish, the crow, and the dream. This had to be it, you thought. Surely, it must. What could ever be worse than this?

When you arrived back at Gryffindor Tower, Lily, Remus, and Peter were sitting on the far side of the room, surrounded by chatting students playing games or doing schoolwork. Lily was one such student, though the quill in her hand was unmoving, tapping against her parchment. Her head popped up with you and Marlene came over, throwing yourselves down in some empty chairs. 

“Where were you two?” she asked. 

“The kitchens, I have to eat there now,” you answered, keeping your voice quiet. 

“I got interrogated by one of the house elves, Isby,” Marlene began. “I guess I look like a seedy character.”

“You can’t fault them for being careful. It’s not as if they know every student in the castle. And after, you know…” Lily hesitated, her eyes still filled with lingering worry, “no one is off limits anymore.”

“Does this mean we can’t go to the kitchens anymore?” Peter asked, utterly dejected. 

Remus chuckled, glancing up from his novel. “We have the cloak, nowhere is off limits to us.”

Peter sighed, “But what a pain it’ll be—”

Suddenly, the portrait hole opened, a clambering noise of multiple pairs of feet stomping inside. You turned to see James, Sirius, and Dorcas rushing in, though James was the most hectic, his eyes darting madly this way and that in search of something. 

“Here we go,” Remus murmured, turning back to his book.

When James spotted your group he instantly ran over, not looking at anyone but yourself. You had not seen him since last night when you each had engaged in perhaps your first row with each other. However, James did not seem deterred by this, acting as if the whole thing never happened. 

“How’d it go?” he asked, his glasses crooked from his mad dash.

“Fine,” you said, glancing nervously at Marlene. “McGonagall took thirty points, but that's it.”

James shrugged, unbothered by this revelation. “Well, Lily and me can make that up in no time. We give out the points.”

“And I,” Lily corrected with a snicker. 

James huffed, knocking Dorcas on the arm when she started to chuckle. “Here, ten points to each of you for being brave,” he said, pausing for a moment as he regained his earlier urgency. “Did you have to go to Dumbledore?”

You nodded, wanting to limit the amount of time you spoke with him as much as possible. As you looked at him, his hair tousled from practice, memories of last night came back to you, causing your face to heat despite your efforts to stop it. 

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means we’re not shagging.”

“Well, you don’t have to act so disgusted by it!” 

“What am I supposed to say? No, Dorcas, we’re not shagging, though I’d like to clarify that I don’t find James to be a repulsive troll.”  

You wanted to crawl under a rock, especially since Sirius had yet to tease you about what had happened, and you knew it’d be a doozy. You saw something mischievous shining in his eyes and you braced yourself for further embarrassment. 

“Got to meet the big guy,” he said with a smirk. “That's a rare honor.”

You let out a small, silent sigh of relief. He had gone extremely easy on you, this time anyway.

“I could’ve gone my whole life without it,” Marlene groaned.

Sirius’s smile widened at Marlene’s reaction, brushing his hair away from his face, the ends still wet from the showers. “But what an office, right?”

“I hate that bird,” Peter said, his eyes wary. “It feels like it knows what you’re talking about.”

“It probably does,” Dorcas laughed.

Marlene rolled her eyes. “How do you know? You’ve never been called into his office before.”

“There’s no way Dumbledore has a bird that doesn’t understand English,” Dorcas said. “What kind is it anyway?”

“A phoenix, his name is Fawkes,” James answered, turning back to you. “So, what are they going to do about it?”

You shrugged, feeling sheepish under his gaze. You never realized how difficult this would be, even if James seemed content on pretending as if everything was normal. You weren’t sure if you could forget the fact he had concealed the truth from you, or the possibility that it was because he was ashamed Mulciber would link the two of you romantically. 

“Dumbledore only told me to eat in the kitchens. Whatever it is they’re going to do with them, no one told me,” you answered, standing from your chair before he could reply. You paused, awkward as you stood in front of everyone, your heart racing as James’s eyes still burned on your cheeks. “I have to get some work done. I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Are you sure you should be alone?” James asked, watching closely as you moved around the chairs so you wouldn't have to pass him.

“I’m just going to my room, not romping around the forest.” You nearly cringed at your biting words, though he didn’t say a thing as you went bounding up the staircase to your dormitory, admittedly at a speed atypical of someone who wasn’t trying to escape.

Hunched over your desk, you barely heard the knock at the door of your room, turning around only when it creaked open. Lily’s head popped through, her auburn hair bright against the walls. 

“Can I come in?” she asked softly. 

You nodded, looking back down at your History of Magic textbook. You were surprised it had taken someone this long to come up, for you had gotten about forty-five minutes of pure solitude.

Lily threw her parchment, quill, and inkwell onto her bed before sitting down beside it, seemingly waiting for you to speak, though she was met with nothing. 

“It’s going to be all right,” she said eventually, the placidity of her voice undermined by a distinct nervousness. You couldn’t blame her. 

“I know,” you said, dropping your head in your hand while your eyes remained towards your work. 

Somewhat humorously, you recalled that it wasn’t too long ago that your biggest worry in life was her finding out you liked James. Now, that was only the cherry on top of the heap of rubbish collecting by your feet. You wondered if all the rest would become too much, forcing you to offload something onto her, thus ending your friendship as you knew it. Given the circumstances, you were proud that you had been able to hold off this long. 

“Don’t worry about Mulciber and them,” she said, a bit brighter now. “Dumbledore is the best wizard of our age. This is probably the safest place you could be.”

You nodded again, your chest beginning to ache. “I just,” you began, your sentence falling off as you turned to face her. Lily’s green eyes started back into yours with more compassion than you believed you could ever deserve, and it made you want to weep. “I know he is, I know they’ll do everything they can, but it’s not about me. Mulciber went after Mary, and then me, and who else will he go for? It doesn’t matter if we stop them this time. It’ll never end.”

“It will,” she said. “I promise, it will. There are people who are trying to end it right now, their names just don’t make it into the Prophet.”

Your elbows rested on your knees as your head fell into your hands again, this time obscuring your face from her view. You remembered five years ago, your father dropping you off at Lily’s house in Cokesworth during the summer holiday, sitting in her living room watching The Wizard of Oz, giggling at the magic while her sister Petunia sulked in the corner. That day you had learned what the tube was, as well as the turntable and all the records Lily had in her bedroom. That same summer, Lily had helped you charm one to work at your house, which like most wizard homes was not outfitted with the proper electrical work (meaning none at all) to run it. You longed for that summer again, the simplicity of your world, the way every new song seemed to reveal something lovelier than the last. 

You took your hands from your face, lifting to see Lily still looking at you like she had been before. The corner of her mouth pulled into a sad smile, the way it had been doing more and more these days. 

You rubbed your eyes, your hand dropping limply onto your leg. “I was just thinking about when I went to your house for the first time.”

“That was fun,” she said, her feet kicking a bit against the floor. “Then you had to leave to go on holiday.”

“My parents wouldn’t let me bring the turnable,” you chuckled bitterly. “I told myself I wouldn’t talk to them the entire time.”

“How long did that last?”

“Not very,” you said, pausing as the memory faded and the present returned. You looked down at your feet, the tightness in your chest growing.

Lily said your name quietly, causing you to glance back up. “I think you ought to go to Professor Taurisus. He might be able to help you.”

“You’re right,” you sighed. As always.

Lily’s gaze drifted over your drained expression as her legs stilled, the wind howling along the tower. “Are you and James going to be all right?” she asked carefully. 

You shrugged, pursing your lips as you thought over what you could afford to reveal. “I don’t know. Eventually, I guess,” you stopped, laughing at yourself. “I’m not even sure how upset I want to be with him.”

“He was an arse,” she said, shaking her head a bit. “He’s such a baby sometimes. If you were cross with him, no one would blame you.”

“I know. I’m just not sure how much more I can handle,” you said, slumping in your chair. “It’s just one more thing after another.”

“If you give him the silent treatment he’ll apologize in two days, tops. Always worked with me.”

Your heart panged at the reminder of their former relationship, nearly making you wince. “That was different.” 

She leaned back on her hands, shaking her head at you. It was similar to something Marlene would’ve done, though less jaunty and more peaceful. No matter how low your mood got, it was rare that Lily would allow you to wallow in it. Her and James were the same in that way. 

“No, it’s not,” she began. “You’re his mate. Besides, everyone knows he fucked up. Dorcas was livid with him this morning. Remus said she nearly took out her wand before Sirius stopped her. The only reason she was civil downstairs was because she knows it would’ve upset you.”

“Well, it’s not that hard to get Dorcas angry,” you said, smiling at the thought. 

“You’re right,” Lily chuckled, “but it’s always justified.” Soon, she stood from her bed, moving around the side to grab some books from her own desk. She shoved some into her bag, grabbing the things lying on her bed and tossing them in as well. “Come on, let’s go to the Library. That’s the only proper place to be when it’s raining.”

─────────•°•❀•°•─────────

The storm had let up a bit, though rain still trickled softly down the diamond panes of the tall windows, its music flowing through the Library like an orchestra number of your discontent. You and Lily had been there for hours, briefly interrupted by Mary who had stopped for a quick hello. She had yet to learn about what had happened either on Thursday or last night, though you refrained from informing her, thinking it best for Dorcas to break the news. You thought she had a right to know, given her history with Mulciber, and she could keep a secret well enough. 

You had worked through lunch, having no reason to make it to the Great Hall in time given that you couldn’t eat there anyway. In the afternoon, Lily unceremoniously shut her books, dragging you up to go to the kitchens. Your hopes that her position as Head Girl would give her enough credibility to pass Isby’s tough guardianship were not in vain, for after a bit of grumbling, Isby gave you both passage inside. You each made yourselves your own lunches, letting the house elves prepare for dinner without having to wait on you as well. 

“So,” Lily began, poking at her half eaten sandwich, “did Dumbledore really not tell you anything about what he’s planning to do?”

You shook your head, swirling your finger over your glass of water to make a whirlpool. It was about as much as you could do without your wand. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I guess that might be a good sign. Maybe it means whatever he’s going to do is serious,” she offered, obviously trying to make the best of an otherwise abysmal situation. 

“Yeah, maybe,” you replied without much enthusiasm, pushing your plate away from you. “I wish I knew something, anything, really.”

Lily looked sadly at your plate, her mouth in a line. “You’ll hear something eventually. He might not know exactly what he’s going to do yet. I wouldn’t.”

“No offense Lily, but you’re not Dumbledore,” you said, watching as a house elves walked across the kitchen, a large bag of flour floating behind. 

“You got me there,” she laughed, stacking her plate on top of yours. “I’m ready when you are.”

You thanked Isby as you left the kitchens, pleased at the meager smile she gave you before running off. At least it was something. 

Mid-conversation with Lily, you nearly didn’t notice him leaning against the wall beside the Fat Lady, his ankles and arms crossed. You seemed to see each other at the same time, each perking up considerably. He took his hands from the pockets of his jeans, adjusting his glasses.

“James,” you said, for it was the only thing you could muster given your surprise. 

He stood up straight, moving off the wall though not taking a step towards you and Lily. You couldn’t pinpoint its exact location, perhaps it was his shoulders or his brow, though something about him appeared tense and distinctly uncomfortable. It was a rare sight, only furthering your desire to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Hey,” he said, his eyes darting towards Lily for a moment. You expected him to continue, though he did not, standing there in silence. Unfortunately, Lily said nothing as well, likely as perplexed as you were. 

“Where are the others?” you asked, the question coming out rather desperate. as if you had some important business with one of them. 

“Sirius is with Seraphina,” he began, pausing for a moment as he shifted on his feet. “Remus and Peter are…well, I don’t know where they are.” 

Another silent beat passed, your whole body charged with a special anxiety saved just for James. Thankfully, Lily came to rescue you. 

“That's a first,” she said with a bit of a laugh, turning to you briefly as she adjusted the bag on your shoulder. “Well, we’re going up to the room, so—”

“Actually,” James interjected, his eyes fixed upon yours. “I was wondering if I could talk to you a moment?”

Fuck.

[galstelperion]

Vanimalda ✧.*

(also available on ao3)

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Sauron/Galadriel (feat. Half Maia!Celebrian)

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 2,271

Summary: A bargain is struck to bring an end to the war between the elves and Sauron. It is decided then that Celebrian must go with her father. This time around, the lady of light seems more convinced than ever of a lasting peace and that her long lost lover will once and for all be healed.

Her mother, the lady of the golden wood, did not often speak of the father of her only child.

They were separated, this much Celebrian knew. Though she often observed her mother, hidden away in dark alcoves, staring longingly into her beloved mirror, face downturned, obscured by shadows. She whispered to herself often, and at first, Celebrian thought her to be praying to Varda for some wisdom. Enshrined within the greatness of Caras Galadhon, the elves were free enough to be unburdened by the growing darkness festering around Middle Earth. But Celebrian watched her mother fiddling with her ring. Her eyes were a heavy thing to bear for more than a couple of seconds, and the weight of the diamond she always wore even more so.

“You have his eyes when you get angry…” She used to mutter in the days before Celebrian had come of age when the bursts of anger and restless anxiety were more frequent.

Galadriel would reach down to pull her hair back away from her face in the middle of the night as if she could garner some strength from simply feeling her there. She would sing of the sea, of her old home, and of the Telerin folk, which Celebrian had never had the chance to meet. Though, even in those days, she seemed distant, as if she were looking at something else entirely, searching and failing to find a face that had long since been lost to time. And no matter how hard the elves tried, Celebrian thought it to be a fruitless endeavor to dissuade the ever fading nature of the land around them, but the Sindar and the remaining Noldor were stubborn in these pursuits. And so, she would reach up for Galadriel’s hand and hold it tight in her grasp. She did not have to ask who he was. Never.

For this reason, It was quite surprising to find the lady of the golden wood approached her daughters' bed chambers that day with a narrowed, pinched look of discomfort marring her otherwise serene features.

She is tired, Celebrian thought, very tired.

She turned to face her, expecting a disgruntled complaint about having to oversee the gentry for an afternoon or two of revelry. What came out of her mother’s mouth was bitter and yet, so full of sudden clarity.

“You will spend the coming winter in Dol Godur.”

Galadriel’s hands were folded in front of her. When she looked down to catch the glint of her ring, she moved quickly to shield it from view with the long draping sleeve of her white dress.

“Dol Godur?” 

“Yes.”

Galadriel nodded, sighing deeply as if saying it out loud freed her of the weight it must’ve pressed on her. Celebrian’s eyes widened when she realized just how serious her mother’s words were. It was no punishment or jest. The lady of the golden wood seemed almost relieved.

Celebrian stood from the edge of her bed, the stone floor felt cold against her bare feet. “But we are at war, are we not?”

“Indeed we are.” Galadriel nodded again, looking down at her hands. “Nevertheless, he wishes to see you.”

The battles were distant still, but the losses were growing ever greater. Lothlorien had become enclosed and the elves within it as reclusive as Doriath of old. For years now, she hadn’t been permitted to even take a stroll in the woods outside Caras Galadhon for the evil that grew closer seemed beyond their control. Now, she was to be willingly escorted into the hands of the great enemy.

She began to complain, her voice going up an octave in her despair. “I don’t understand, am I to be a political prisoner?”

“No,” Galadriel replied without hesitance or even an inkling of resentment. “You are and always will be his daughter.”

It was hard to stand against a woman like her mother. An Eldar who had seen so much. Even now, as Celebrian stood before, through the high arched windows, the light drew in and kissed her lamplike hair. The sun crested Galadriel’s face and the light within her eyes was a frightening thing to behold. A sacredness she held that was beyond comprehension.

“I do not wish to see him,” She protested.

Galadriel stepped forward, reaching for her arms.

“Believe me, I would not put you in harm's way.”

“He is the dark lord!” She flinched back, eyes averted to the floor.

“Yes, he is,” Galadriel murmured softly, almost to herself. “And I say again, he wishes, above everything, to see you. So much so that he has promised to cease his endless conquest for the chance to do so.”

“He is a deceiver, you know he is lying!”

Galadriel lifted her chin, her voice unwavering and full of conviction. “Not this time.”

“The past is blinding you again.” She shook her head, turning back towards her desk. “I will write to Gil-Galad—

Her mother braced her arm again, pulling her back to face her with more force than before.

“The high king knows of what must be done, it is he who has approved this arrangement.”

Celebrian’s eyes widened, “And what of Lord Elrond?”

Surely, the half-elven man who had held such love for her before would not permit this. She could not imagine, with all of his pride, that Elrond Peredhel would be brought so low. She would never forgive him for it.

Galadriel seemed to still. Celebrian knew then there had certainly been friction over this.

“His forces in this war have been greatly depleted. Your father—

“Stop calling him that!” She yelled, squeezing her eyes shut.

She stepped out from her mother's grasp, pacing to the other side of the room. Silence settled for a breath or two before she spoke again more carefully.

“Sauron,” She continued, “has amassed a power we cannot stand against. The race of men, legions of them turn to pledge loyalty to his cause.”

She paused to glare across the room. “You are so certain he will stand by his word?”

There was a longer pause. Celebrian thought there to be doubt in her mother's countenance, but as she looked, she found her again, staring with much longing at her ring, fiddling with it so much that the stone cast a strange beam of light against the wall.

“I have seen it.” She declared, looking at her with the smallest semblance of a smile, one of great pride. A glint in her eye that she swore was almost triumphant. She watched her approach with some hesitance, the fabric of her long dress dragged where she walked. “Celebrian, there is a future where it is you who quells the darkness in his fëa.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing for this all to be some horrible nightmare she would soon wake up from. But it was a helpless cause. For far too long, her mother had held onto hope. Stubborn as ever to think that she could fix the unfixable. That it was her duty to heal and repair all that had been marred for the sake of ambition. For the sake of love. 

“You were never able to do that, no matter how hard you tried. You have suffered greatly for it.”

A cold hand reached out for her face. Before she could process it, Galadriel was in front of her, as tall as ever. Soft hands cupped her cheeks and drew her eyes up. Her thumb drew circles along her cheekbone.

“Do not say that, no, you have never been the cause of my suffering, never,” She reassured, chiding her for even daring to think such a thought.

Celebrian frowned still, looking at her mother with a pained expression that would not ease. For she could feel what was to come, and the comfort of her home that would be stripped for something unknown. For a monster who had destroyed so much. And yet, there was so much love. A love that was inexplicable. Volatile. In the midst of ravaging flames, it remained entirely whole. She could not fathom such a thing. Her love for Elrond had been great, but were he to fall to such an extent, she could let go, she was sure of it. She thought there must have been those who were written in the great songs that crafted the universe. Those who Eru saw so clearly so as to make them inseparable, woven so tightly in the veins of the secret fire. That was what was bound between her mother and father. Greatness and despair beyond imagining.

Galadriel gripped both sides of her face and whispered again with more hope than she knew what to do with.

“If what I have foreseen comes to fruition,” She breathed. “You will be our salvation.”

~

The largest crowd of elves she had ever seen gathered before the steps near the sacred tree. As she came through, she tried and failed to squeeze her way through the whispers. People looked at her as she came by. She knew what she was here for and walked with a more confident stride. She gathered the skirts of her dress and reached where they had broken off and cleared a path for incoming riders near the forest trail.

He was there, in dark scaly armor that made him look like a serpent. His eyes were obscured beneath his crown as he rode in on the tallest horse she’d ever seen. Galadriel stood in the middle of the path where he pulled the reins to a stop. Celebrian pushed her way closer to the front. Her mother was looking up, and could not take her eyes off the dark lord, who seemed to speak to her without actually speaking at all. In a swift movement, he got off the horse, though he did not decrease in stature. They stood as a pair, at equal height in the midst of the teaming crowd. They all knew what was about to transpire. Many had protested to no avail. Some fled to neighboring settlements or kingdoms to spread the news. The silver queen was to be taken away. There was nothing to do be done about it. A price for a lasting peace had to be paid.

“You must be merciful.” She heard her mother whisper. Her eyes narrowed where they leaned against each other.

More was said that Celebrian could not make out. Much to her surprise, the dark lord took off his crown with one hand and looped it around her mother's waist. He held her there and leaned down to press a rough kiss to her lips. The crowd of elves seemed startled to absolute stillness at this open display. Nothing had quelled their insistent whispers up to that moment. When he pulled back, Celebrian could see his face more clearly this time. He had a rough look about him, stubbly cheeks, and brown shoulder length hair. Dwarvish in appearance, yet his stature was with little doubt to be of a Maia of Aulë.

“I will not hurt her, I promise.”  She heard him reassure.

“You must fulfill the entirety of our exchange.”

“I will, melmenya,” he said again, lifting his other hand to whisper across her face, lingering beneath her chin. Galadriel did not pull away. She leaned against his touch with what appeared to be some relief, listening to him speak. He grumbled low under his breath, “The hostages have been well fed and freed to go as they please. They are on their way back to Lindon as we speak. Your cousin will send word soon enough.”

“And the rest of this bargain?” Galadriel asked.

At this, the dark lord seemed to pause. Looking around with some hesitance. He seemed, for a long moment, to search desperately in the crowd but did not find what he was looking for. With narrowed eyes, he looked back down to Galadriel again, clearly unsure.

“You are certain of this?” He asked.

Galadriel lifted her chin, her lips ghosting over his again. “You have seen what I have seen.”

With a heavy sigh, he looked down to his armored hand. He tugged up his sleeve to where Celebrian could see a distinct gold band around his ring finger. Whispers flooded her mind as her eyes met with the strange thing. A great evil seemed to linger about it. Some of the elves around her even seemed to recoil at the sight of it. She frowned as he twisted the ring between his index finger and thumb before pulling it off.

“Very well,” he said, loud enough for all to hear.

Her mother had not taken her eyes off the ring. Their hands lingered over one another dotingly. He watched her fingers curl into a fist against his palm when she took it in her grasp, her eyes shut tight.

Sauron looked around again. “Where is she?”

Galadriel swallowed. The elves who stood around Celebrian shuffled to the side to give way for her to pass. Hesitantly, she came out into the trail, and at the moment he seemed to find her instantly. She stood for a moment, transfixed before gathering herself. He watched her approach, his breathing hitched at the sight of her. 

Celebrian did as she had been ordered to do. She came up to stand before her father. Bowed her head low. But as she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off first.

“Vanimalda,” he sighed. “A blessing to finally see you in person.”

He held his hand out for her to take. She gave him her most bitter smile and accepted it.

[sinful-sonnet]

Post outbreak AU one shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After leaving someone behind during an infected ambush, Joel and the reader struggle with guilt, grief, and anger in the safety of a secluded cabin. The weight of their choice threatens to shatter their fragile bond.

Warnings; violence, character death, abandonment, heavy on the angst, emotional conflict

✨ notes ✨

Feeling very angsty tonight and this is my first time posting a fic to tumblr so please be gentle T^T.. Feel free to give me constructive criticism or feedback thanks in advance!!

Lucy’s end came because of the infected. The group had been scavenging through the remnants of an old neighborhood when the sound of a distant horde began to ripple through the air. It was subtle at first—a faint chorus of snarls and groans that quickly grew louder, closer.

Lucy had insisted on breaking off from the group, her sharp eyes spotting a half-open basement door she was sure had untouched supplies. Joel had told her to stay with the group, his voice firm, but she’d shot back with her usual mix of stubborn defiance and reckless confidence.

“I’ll be quick!” she’d said.

When the infected swarmed, they came faster than anyone expected. Clickers tore through fences, runners darted through alleys, their guttural screeches echoing through the ruins. You and Joel fought desperately to hold them off, but Lucy was on the other side of the chaos.

She’d been inside the basement when the horde descended, her screams cutting through the cacophony as she tried to escape. Joel had grabbed your arm as you lunged toward her. “We can’t save her!” he’d yelled, his voice raw with urgency and sorrow. You had fought against him, tears streaming down your face, but his grip was like iron.

The last thing you heard before Joel dragged you away was Lucy’s voice, screaming your name as the infected closed in.

Joel claimed she wouldn’t have survived, that there was nothing you could’ve done, but the memory of her voice haunted you. What if you’d tried harder? What if she’d found a way out and was waiting for help that never came? The infected had taken Lucy, but the guilt was devouring you.

Now, in the safety of the cabin, the silence between you and Joel was heavier than ever, each of you haunted by the choices that had led to her loss.

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Joel cleared his throat, the sound abrupt in the quiet room. “We shouldn’t’ve stayed here this long,” he muttered, his voice gravelly and low.

You didn’t look at him. “I needed time.”

“Time’s a luxury we can’t afford,” he shot back, his words harsher than intended. Joel winced at his own tone, but he didn’t apologize. He never did.

“Not everything can move at your pace, Joel,” you replied evenly, though your voice cracked slightly at the edges. “I needed time to—” You stopped, closing your eyes, willing yourself to remain calm.

“To grieve,” he finished for you, softer this time.

The cabin felt colder despite the fire, and Joel wanted to say something, anything, to bridge the growing gap between you. But words were not his strength. He could shoot a man without hesitation, carry a child across a battlefield, survive the unspeakable. Yet he could not bring himself to reach for you, to say what you needed to hear.

“I didn’t want to leave her behind,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Joel’s jaw tightened. He looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused, hands that had failed more times than he could count. He had failed you.

“You did what you had to do,” he said finally, though it felt like a lie even to himself.

You turned to face him, and the firelight illuminated the tear tracks on your cheeks. “Did I? Or did you?”

He flinched like you’d struck him, but he didn’t look away. “You don’t think I wanted to save her?” he growled, his voice rough with anger and grief. “You think I wanted to leave her there?”

“I think you made the call because that’s what you always do,” you snapped. “You don’t think, Joel. You just—decide. And we’re all supposed to follow.”

The words hit him harder than they should have. You weren’t wrong. Joel had always been the one to make the hard calls, the impossible choices. It was how he survived, how he kept others alive. But this time, he wondered if survival had cost him too much.

“She was a kid, Joel,” you continued, your voice breaking. “She trusted us. She trusted me. And I left her.”

Joel stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “And what would you have done, huh?” he shouted, pacing the small room. “Stayed? Gotten yourself killed too? You think that would’ve helped her?”

“I don’t know!” you screamed back, standing to face him. “I don’t know, Joel, because you didn’t give me a choice!”

The silence that followed was deafening. You were breathing heavily, tears streaming down your face, and Joel looked at you like you’d just driven a knife into his chest.

“I did what I thought was right,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Maybe it was right for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But it wasn’t right for me.”

Joel’s shoulders sagged, and for the first time, you saw the weight he carried—the guilt, the regret, the endless cycle of loss that had hardened him. But it didn’t make it easier.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words foreign and awkward on his tongue.

You shook your head, stepping away from him. “Sorry won’t bring her back.”

He didn’t stop you when you walked to the door, didn’t call after you as you stepped into the cold night air. He simply stood there, staring at the empty space you left behind, the sound of your absence louder than anything he had ever heard.

Joel sat back down by the fire, his head in his hands, and let the silence consume him.

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