#I decided to go for traditional with this one
Note
talk to me about the bucktommy invisible string theory, if you please 🎤
Okay hear me out. Without Tommy? Buck would not be where he is now, and so much of the 118 falls apart without him:
Tommy starts at the 118 closeted and desperate to hide it so he follows along with the boys club
Howie arrives and starts chipping away at that by trying to become actual friends with his team mates
Tommy only decides to open up after Howie stuck his neck out to save Tommy's life from that retail explosion. This is the start of his separation from the boys club mentality
Hen joins the 118 and Tommy sees how quickly Gerrard shits on her (his look when Gerrard calls Hen the "latest diversity hire" is almost sheer disgust, hidden fairly quickly) despite Hen proving that she is just as smart and capable as anyone else on the job
Hen's "I see you" speech is his catalyst; he files complaints against Captain Gerrard, contributing to Gerrard being fired and Bobby being instated as captain
The boys club is almost done with anyway, but Tommy's done playing with that mindset. He befriends Hen and Howie.
He is personally present to witness the shift in dynamic happening once again when Bobby instates family dinners as a 118 tradition
When he eventually leaves to join Harbour, he leaves a gap in the 118 A-shift to be filled by none other than Evan Buckley, probie.
If Chim hadn't saved Tommy's life: Tommy wouldn't have started to pull back from the boys club, or really understood the issues with Gerrard's captaincy.
If Tommy hadn't reported Gerrard: Bobby wouldn't have become captain.
If Tommy had stayed at the 118: there'd be no room for Buck.
If Tommy hadn't befriended Hen and Chim: Buck never would've met Tommy.
Tommy Kinard is the linchpin holding it all in place. If just one single decision had been changed, everything would be different. Buck is where he is, with the family he's found, because of Tommy Kinard. And he can't see it. Tommy can't see the bigger picture, the opportunities he created with his seemingly small actions. And Buck is exactly the same way.
Their paths were always meant to cross. They were always meant to know each other, to fall in love. Because without even knowing it, Tommy has always been making a space for Evan. And just like with their first date, it turns out that Tommy stepping away is exactly what Buck needed in order to step forward.
I guess if you really want to go in on the metaphor: Buck's been following the pull of this invisible string for a long time, following Tommy from such a distance that he can't see the other end of the string yet, can't see who he's following. He just knows he's searching for something. For someone. And then the pull slacked once Buck got to the 118. The tether relaxed when they both stood still, when they both found the right places to wait. And one act of loyalty and courage from a friend years ago echoed along the string to pull them closer together, until they were standing in the same place.
By a helicopter on an airfield, preparing to fly out into literally unknown waters, the string pulled them in tight and said: "There he is. He's what you've been looking for, what youve been waiting for. Go get him."
Or something like that.
#asks#buckttommy#911 meta#technically i guess?#911 abc#bucktommy#invisible string theory#i got in my feels about this ugh
547 notes
·
View notes
Text
actually, out of the tags and further explanation: so I actually REALLY LOVE that mcc is like, canonizing making predictions about game and event winners like this, as well as making stats more accessible and explicitly part of the game like this.
the thing is—okay so I know stats are blamed for a lot of what’s wrong with mcc fandom but stats are FUN. sports predictions are FUN. being kind of competitive about sports predictions is FUN. have you ever done an ncaa bracket with your family. or played fantasy baseball. or fantasy football. or hell, have you watched a jon bois video that’s actually some of his sports writing. FUN, RIGHT? and stats are a really common way for a sports/competition fan to engage with their hobby, so like, there is no avoiding “people will try to make mcc predictions” and “people will stat out the teams” and “people will be competitive about those predictions”, it’s one of the most common modes of the sports fan, it’s an accessible form of engagement even when the team you are personally a fan of isn’t in the game (because you can be temporarily a fan of the one you’ve decided to gamble on winning), and it’s not gonna go away.
(the actual stakes of gambling aren’t required and I actually do not recommend outside of like, you get a stupid gold plastic trophy from a friend, do not get involved in sports gambling it’s a predatory industry and there is basically no “safe” threshold there, I am talking more about the inherent fun of “getting competitive about your team winning”.)
the problem has in the past been that players see it and get placed under pressure/upset/etc about it, because unlike Sports, the mcc players have very direct lines of interaction with their fandom. it’s VERY EASY to take a prediction as an attack, especially when combined with competitiveness, which is why I think a lot of people suggest forbidding talking about stats or tiers, getting rid of stats, etc.
but the thing is that won’t work. for one, it’s removing one of the biggest sports fan modes of engagement and therefore removing your own fandom. but also people aren’t going to NOT do stats! like, even the players will probably start keeping track of stats if stats were removed! so the solution instead needs to be to make stats more individual, to remove some of the pressure of the stats, and to lean into the stuff about it that makes it FUN.
therefore: the kudos system and predictions. it’s not trying to get rid of the inevitable fandom interaction, it’s embracing it, but it’s doing it in a way that removes pressure from players.
for example, note that the kudos have a focus on personal bests! this encourages players to compete but means even “lower-tier” players will probably get them! at the same time, by globally sharing overall records, it continues to celebrate and encourage great performances! plus, by making some of the stats really stupid, it both gives statheads NEW things to focus on that aren’t coins—the punching statistic for example is gonna be so fun—removing some of the pure pressure to perform in score alone and the centralization of discussion around it—and also gives players silly records to aim for if they aren’t the kind of player who’d aim for a more “traditional” high score.
as for the predictions, they’re gonna do two things. first, it embraces “yeah the community loves doing predictions” by adding a competitive aspect to it—can you beat the odds and predict who will win everything? the wordle-like ability to copy/paste how you did at the end of the event is truly genius because it makes it SUPER EASY to share and discuss for even casual fans. it will increase engagement and discussion. it’ll ALSO help demonstrate to players, by showing the percentage of correct predictions on screen, how… inaccurate… predictions often are. sure, you can guess who the better players and teams will be, but as anyone who did sexyman knows, single-round games can have upsets. and it celebrates those upsets! it turns it from “no one believed in us” (sad) to “we were the underdogs hell yeah look at us go!”
anyway as someone who likes engaging with sports and competitions by being a little competitive and watching the stories the numbers tell: I adore these changes FANTASTIC changes they’re gonna be so fun day-of let’s go mcc,
214 notes
·
View notes
Text
i don't even know what this is, a bit of non-buddie-endgame heartbreak maybe.
----
"One more?" Eddie says, holding up the decanter of fine ten-year-old bourbon.
Buck sighs. "I better not. Don't want to be hungover tomorrow like I was at the last wedding we were at."
"At least you weren't the groom that time," Eddie said, grinning as he puts down the decanter, apparently deciding to forgo a refill for himself.
"All the more reason."
"It took me a year to pay off the credit card bill for that fucking hotel room," Eddie groans.
"Hey, you say that like I wasn't paying half."
"At least it put us off having some kind of wild party tonight."
"Yeah. Plus it just feels weird. Like, how does a bachelor party work if you're marrying a man? Seems like he ought to be invited, too."
"What is Tommy doing tonight?"
"His brothers and a couple of the guys from Harbor took him to Top Golf."
"Stop this crazy party train."
"I kinda like Top Golf, it's like golf but also skeeball."
Eddie put down his glass and leaned forward. "So I know a traditional part of my job tonight is to like...check how you're feeling. Like, make sure you're doing the right thing. See if you're having cold feet."
"It is?"
"Apparently. But...I don't really need to. You're practically vibrating with excitement."
Buck felt himself go warm and liquid at the idea that in 24 hours, he'd be Tommy's husband. "I am doing the right thing. I've never had any doubts."
"Never?"
"No. I love him so much, Eddie."
"I know you do. And that guy is so in love with you it's embarrassing. I've never had doubts about either of you, either. And you know I get protective."
"Gee, you don't say."
"Shut up!" They laughed together, the quiet, easy laughter of a nearly decade-old friendship that in some ways was even closer than a marriage.
Buck sighed. "Well, I better get to bed. I need sleep if I want to look pretty to marry the man of my dreams tomorrow."
Eddie nodded, making no move to get up himself. "I'll wake you up at 9."
"Thanks." He patted Eddie's knee and went to the door. Something felt...electric. The air was crackling and he didn't really know why.
He was at the door when Eddie's voice stopped him.
"Did we just miss our chance? Somewhere along the way?" he said, quietly, but his voice cut into the silence clearly.
Buck paused, still facing the door. He took a deep breath and turned, his eyes locking on to Eddie's immediately. He did not even try to pretend that he didn't know exactly what Eddie was talking about. "Yeah. I think we did."
Eddie nodded. "I think so, too."
Buck took a step forward. "But you will always be my guy, Eddie. Always."
Eddie stood up, hands in his pockets. "I love you. And I love him. I love what you two have, together. And I will always have your back."
Buck took the two steps to close the distance and pulled Eddie into an embrace, pressing his face into his hair. "I love you, too." He drew back and let his forehead rest against Eddie's. They took a few breaths together, and it felt like they were releasing something into the air between them. Buck pulled away and pressed a kiss to Eddie's forehead. Eddie smiled, an easy, familiar smile, and it was okay again.
Buck grinned, squeezed his hand, and left the room.
He got to his own hotel room - they were all staying in the historic inn where the ceremony would be tomorrow - and made it inside. A shuddering breath escaped him, and as if he'd been waiting for a cue, he heard Tommy's key in the lock and he came inside. "Evan, wha..." was all he got out before Buck buried himself in his arms. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm amazing. I'm just..." He sighed, pressing his face into Tommy's neck. "I think I just let go of something I've been holding onto for a long time."
Tommy pulled back and met his eyes. "Eddie?"
He knew. Of course he knew. This man who was about to marry him absolutely knew. Buck nodded.
"And you're both okay?"
"Yes. Better than that, I think." Tommy pulled him back into his arms, rocking them both back and forth. "I love you."
"I know, Evan. I've always known."
Buck stood in the embrace of the man he loved, and wept both for what he was about to gain, and a little bit for what he'd never had.
169 notes
·
View notes
Text
Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (16)
Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader
Genre: (fluff, angst, and smut) abo/werewolf, fantasy
Rating: 18+/nsfw
Word Count: 14.3k (We really said it's been almost a year so we're going to write thirty plus pages)
Summary:
At the bathhouse, you discover your alpha is much worse is off than you originally anticipated. You tend to him, but some scars never fade.
Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE, MENTIONS OF BROKEN BONES, MENTIONS OF LOSS OF BODY PARTS, dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, marking, manhandling
Author's Note:
It's been awhile since I updated. Honestly, the grown-up life is rough. That's all I really have to say to answer for the extended hiatus with this story and my other one. Mental health has been going up and down periodically and it really was so hard to write through it all.
I spent about two weeks going back and forth with the chapter. I wondered if it would ever make it to a post several times because things kept getting deleted. I finally decided to just sit down and write and not stop. This is the final result. Thirty-one pages.
I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry that this isn't the long-awaited mating chapter that I know you guys all really want to see, but it is important to me that the characters are nuanced and that their connection is not one built purely on the basis of desire. Sure, that is part of it, but there's much more to it. So much more depth and meaning when we build relationships with people. Especially romantic ones.
Enjoy!
To read more, click here for the masterlist.
“O-over there, alpha,” you quietly suggest, “It would be easier for me to-“ you flounder in flusterment when the strong arm circled around your front curls possessively around you- “I-It would be easier for m-me to tend to you if you sat down on the bench.”
The male makes a deep, rumbling sound as he draws in another heavy breath of your intoxicating pheromones, “As you wish. But it will cost you for being so irresistible.”
The sound goes straight to your cunt, and you have to bite into your cheek to keep from making the sound of need that your wolf begs you to release. You shift where you stand, hoping that the quaint press of your thighs together will somehow trap the slick from where it is secreted from your sex.
“What…what is the price I must pay for my transgression?” You ask, hoping that balms, ointments, and medicinal solutions splayed on the tray you hold in your hands don’t fall from how much your heart pounds in your chest.
It’s hard enough as it is not to look down, for he is completely, utterly, and mouth-wateringly naked.
“Two things,” his uninjured arm tightens even more around your front, his hand bunching itself in your skirt as he groans at the fresh scent of desire that drifts from you. “The first is you will not leave my sight. I want you as near to me as you can be.” He noses at the side of your throat, your lashes fluttering in the warm sensation of his breath as he utters, “It was a second hell to leave you after that duel and be without you, but I wanted to respect the tradition–and your decision– had you chosen to prepare yourself for me.”
His words have affection swirling in your chest.
This male really was something special. Even after battling three other wolves and being severely injured on your behalf, he still put your needs before his own.
And really, how could you deny him his request when that was all that you wanted, deep down? To just be by his side. Forever his loyal, loving, doting mate.
“You needn’t ask me that, alpha, for it was already in my mind.” You faintly confess.
He likes that answer.
You know based on the way he presses his mouth to the oily gland along your throat. It is gentle and soft, and it is so different from what you’d seen on the glen not too long ago during his duel.
So much violence and so much pain he was capable of bringing, but with you, he would never harm a hair on your head. So great was his love for you that he would protect you from that even if it meant taking those scars onto his body.
He’d given his oath to you that he would do exactly that, and gods, he had kept to it.
It is why you let him maneuver you forward away from the watery basin you’d found him in and toward the long ebony wood bench that almost stretches from one end of the chamber to the other. A tall pillar of white wax holds a flickering wick that is set in brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling on each side of the bench, and in front of its legs are caged candles guarded by glass that have high, bright flames.
“How agreeable you are being. If you can so easily agree to that, then the second of my terms is this.” He turns you both before the front of your knee can make contact with the wood, the arm he has encircled around your waist spinning you so that you face him.
His hand never leaves your side, his fingers remaining entrenched in the sea of your skirts. Somehow, none of the vials fall from the tray you clutch onto.
Golden irises that burn with more intensity than the fire beside him have you utterly struck by their luminousness as he demands, “You will promise me that if this,” he jerks his chin toward his mangled form, “is too much for you, you will tell me. I said before that I only wanted you to tend to me, and I meant it. But if you are uncomfortable, you must say so.”
Again, he was putting you first. Despite the fact that he was hurting, he was still choosing your comfort over his own.
Just how much more could your heart swell for this male?
You shake your head, finding your voice full of doubtlessness and confidence that surge into you as you say, “I want to do this, alpha. I spent years studying the art of medicine and herbal treatments so that I could one day use it to help others.” You rise on your tiptoes to osculate your lips against his. “I would be lying if I told you I hadn’t secretly wanted to learn it mostly for situations like this.”
He smirks against you, his mouth lingering near yours as he teasingly prods, “Situations like this? Are you saying that you thought about getting me shirtless and all alone so you could touch me under the guise of that excuse?”
Heat races to your cheeks and that confidence you’d had before vanishes with it. Soon, you’re blushing as you blurt, “No! I mean, yes! I mean….alpha!”
Years ago, you had never entertained the idea that this male before you would ever become yours. That you would ever be able to have a moment like this with him. He had been a constant thought in your mind from the moment you’d first laid eyes on him when you’d been but children, and as you both grew older, his presence in your mind and thoughts had only grown stronger.
But apart from your dreams and musings, he’d been so far for you to reach with all the duties and responsibilities that had been thrust on you from such a young age. So many other omegas had vied for his attentions, and with all of them clamoring for one look in their direction whenever he had returned to the compound from his exploits deep in the forest or in the forge where he had been stationed, you had never been able to get close enough with a constant herd of wolves –female and male alike– around him.
His rank had drawn many to him, each of them hoping that the next in line to be the ruler of the pack would select them to be part of his inner circle. Any selected by him would instantly rise in rank upon his ascendance to becoming Pack Alpha, and so naturally he had had to be guarded in his interactions and limited in his contact with others beyond his work in the forge as the pack’s only blacksmith beside his father.
Rumors had spread fast in his unannounced absences that he would take with his father for increasing increments of time the older he became, because when he returned to work at the forge, there were bags under his eyes that had become more mature, had become hardened with the calluses on his hands as he worked them day after day.
Sometimes he would return with a new wound on his body that he tried to hide under the various furs he draped over his body. You knew because of the chitter of the omegas that would inevitably gossip about in front of the fire in the omegean den on your way back to your chambers after a long night in the archives that you went to after you left the schoolhouse for the day.
Those were the nights that you found your paws bearing down on the grassy ground as you ran through the hills deep in the woodland in your journey toward your favorite creek that was tucked away behind a wall of vines, deep into the forest, that no one but you knew about.
Or so you had thought.
He’d been there, too. From a distance, of course. From the moment you stepped out of your chambers, he’d been able to smell you. The wind had a cunning way of carrying that to him no matter where he was, and he was helpless to the wolf in him he had been learning to control that bayed and bayed until he listened and tracked that captivating scent that made everything else in the world fade away.
You wonder, as he urges you between his legs that he opens for you in invitation to stand between, just how much he had to sacrifice to be sitting before you now.
Your alpha observes your expressions change from embarrassment to concentrated concern, and he tugs on the invisible cord tying you both together that is the bond you now share. You let him in without hesitation, your thoughts becoming known to him as he draws on the connection.
He can hear your thoughts, can feel your emotions, can see your memories if he taps into it. In the developing stage of the bond, you wish you knew how to show him all of your dreams of him, all of your memories of him, and all your thoughts that you’ve ever had of him.
There’s something that you want him to see, but gods, your voice just won’t work the way you want it to under the emotion that cracks and breaks it. So, you let him see a memory you’d kept buried deep in the trenches of your mind for many, many moons. One that no one but he would ever carry.
It had been a rainy, stormy night. So heavy was the rain that it pelted your skin even through the thick coat of your white fur as you’d torn through the earth with paws too eager to rush you away from the center of your stresses and away to the woodland where it all melted away with the streaks of color that passed by you in your inhuman speed as you ran, ran, and then ran some more.
Thunder had rumbled through the sky on this particular night so loud that even your eardrums rang after the deafening strikes of sound that cut through the sky as lightning flashed before your eyes from under the canopy of trees.
The forest was vast, but that night, it had seemed all too small for you.
You hadn’t stopped until your lungs screamed for air, your haunches burning from how hard you’d pushed them, the bolt of white light in the sky similar to the color of the flame that had burned in the stone fireplace set in the middle of the wall on one end of your chambers while you’d carefully, attentively read the letter left to you on your windowsill.
Such a beautiful poem about a boy who had come to love the girl he admired from afar. And so meticulous had each letter been etched onto the parchment. You knew whoever had written it had taken much time to compose it with each swirl and curve of each syllable.
You had left it on your bed while you had gone to find another book to hide yet another letter from your secret admirer with no name, but had not noticed the shadow that had swept under your door to reveal your father, who had taken one look at the letter on your duvet before anger had turned him cruel at the prospect of his perfect little girl being corrupted by some hormonal male.
He'd cast the parchment into the fire despite your ardent pleas not to, the tears falling quickly when he’d let that fury burn you with pokers of curses and chastisements for your lack of purity.
He had always been adamant that you were to study the ways of the pack and devote yourself to teach its art to the youth. Those letters, to him, were nothing but distractions. Distractions that made you no better than the common whore in the fantasies they would ineluctably fill your head with.
Or so he had said.
That was why you had found yourself bounding through the forest that night with tears in your eyes not even the rain could wash away. But that night, fate had had other ideas.
You’d intended to go to the cave by the creek. You had never made it inside.
You’d stopped behind one of the oak trees on the edge of the forest floor before the soil turned to rock by the stream, the wide-mouthed cave beyond occupied by two figures.
Just by the smell of them, you knew they were of the same blood. One was older with their more muted, aged smell and one was younger.
You knew the scent of the younger one. That scent of blooming gardenia, pear and black vanilla. The same one that lingered on the letters left to you on your windowsill.
Each time the lightning pierced the black sky, their figures flashed. And each time, the two were locked in combat. Each held only a small iron dagger, their fighting leathers more than enough protection for them both lest either were struck by the other.
Unable to look away, you found yourself moving closer until you hid safely behind a thick, bountiful bush and could discern voices. Their voices. Only bits and pieces could be made out through the rainstorm, but it was enough.
“…too slow, son….can’t keep putting your arm up like that…too open and easy for me to…”
The next split of white light through the black sky illuminated them both, and the slightly shorter male with hair the color of ebony had a knife at his throat. It was held there by his father, who shook his head in disapproval as he gripped the younger male’s forearm in a vice-like hold.
“…cannot protect her if you cannot protect yourself. You are not ready.” The older male had decided. “Until you are, you will not see her. Even from afar.”
Another lightning bolt ruptures the clouds covering the moon, and a younger Jungkook had let his dogma guide his blade as he had voiced:
“Eventually I will be. And when I am, she’ll be mine. Not even her father will stand in my way.”
The next time the streak of lightning found its way through the atmosphere, the older male had been twisted around, his arm held behind his back while the younger alpha had pressed his blade to his father’s throat.
A self-satisfied grin with pointed canines protruding from under his upper lip had made your beating muscle in your chest stutter as he had released his father from the binding hold he’d had on him.
You could have sworn he looked right at you from behind the mess of leaves and brambles.
When the white fulmination cleaved through the clouds once more, your heart stopped when his father had quickly captured his son’s wrist to the hand that held the dagger by his neck only to bend forward and rotate forward, effectively flipping Jungkook onto his back. Jungkook, who had been unprepared for such a technique, had been brought to the craggy ground with a grunt, his other hand shooting out to grab for something, anything, to find purchase in as his knife fell from his fingers. Jungkook was fast, but his father had simply been faster.
The older male had easily used the momentum of move to step around and over Jungkook’s now prone form. Jungkook, who had been propped up on one elbow with a sharp looking rock held in his now bleeding hand from the blade of the dagger that had cut into his palm in the fall. It laid too far for him to reach, the essence of his defeat staining it.
White electricity strikes yet again, the deep rumble of thunder loud under the pounding of blood in your ears.
“Distracted. She occupies your mind even now. That…is dangerous, son.” The older male with gray streaking the black hairs stuck over his eyes had said. “Too dangerous for you to be allowed near her until….oncoming rut is over...”
That was the last thing you heard before there had been a flare of heat on your right, the rift of lightning arcing along the old oak’s stump beside you as the clouds clashed and loud sound pierced the earth.
You hadn’t even flinched. That didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the alpha on the ground who’s scent clung to the parchments that made you blush, smile, and kick your feet while you coveted them close to your chest as you wished to the gods that whatever force was keeping him from your side would release him.
The fascination that had turned every letter of his had tilled the very hard edge with which he spoke as he growled, “No. I cannot go through that again. You cannot make me.”
“Won’t I?” His father flipped the dagger in hand. “You’re on the ground right now because you cannot keep your mind off her. What is to stop you from venturing into her chambers tonight when you inevitably begin thinking of how good she smells? Of how pretty she looks when-“
Jungkook had pushed up on his hand, the other holding the rock slicing the air close to his father’s thigh. Each side of the older male’s mouth pulled downward, the metal of his dagger gleaming as sparks had flown upon impact of the pointed edge of the rock hitting the blade with such force.
“Don’t.” Jungkook’s jaw tensed. “Do not dare to say the things I mutter in my sleep when you have me chained to the fucking trees.”
His father had shrugged. “Then become stronger for her. Until you can, you’ll stay here, deep in the woods. Far away from her.”
The cords in the younger alpha’s neck went rigid as he scowled. “I will find my way to her. One way or another.”
With that, he’d pulled his knees toward his chest before punting his father in the chest with his feet. Such energy he’d used to push himself back from the older male as he’d used the force of the action to drive his feet over his head in a backward roll, his bleeding hand reaching around the hilt of the curved dagger on the ground. When he’d gotten to his feet once more, he had bared his teeth with determination set into those expressive features of his.
His father had nodded in approval, “That’s the spirit, son. Never accept defeat. That’s how you win.”
The clash of metal had soon become drowned out by the outpour of rain, but not even the water could snuff out the iotas of light that came at each powerful strike of their blades against each other.
Hours must have passed, but you swore it felt like it had only been minutes as your eyes followed the younger male everywhere he went, his wild dark locks sticking to his forehead and sides of his face as he moved with purpose and confidence.
There was an art to his movements as he continuously, mercilessly brought down his blade on his father’s. Time and time again.
Whether he held a quill or a blade in his hand, he was filled with purpose. Purpose that was entirely carved by you.
It had taken his father being backed into the stream for you to realize that you were too close. And that the air had become too thick to push air through your lungs as the organs in your chest contracted too deeply?
Why had it suddenly become so difficult to breathe?
Jungkook wades into the stream up to his calves, not willing to let up on his father despite the water urging him with its flow against him.
The closer he got, the more labored your breaths became.
You needed to shift. You needed to shed your heavy furs that had been drenched by the rain.
But to do that, you had to leave him.
So, you did. Quietly, you slipped into the night, careful not to make any sound lest you drew any attention to yourself. You hadn’t known you’d been holding your breath until you found your way back to your chambers, your footfalls light as your furs had begun to fall away from you. After you’d collected the rainwater you’d left in a barrel outside your window in several smaller bowls and emptied them into the cauldron hung over the metal hook above your fireplace to heat what would be your bathwater, your hands had sought the comfort of the thickest bound book that you kept on your bookshelf.
You had been too hasty to get to the dog-eared page you’d marked in the book, accidentally tearing the page before finding what you’d come to your book for. Inside it was tucked your favorite letter left to you on your windowsill. One that you found yourself rereading night after night.
It read:
The moon pales in comparison to the light that twinkles in your eyes,
The stars tremble in awe of your brilliance,
The night must blanket them and still, you offer more warmth,
Warmth that not even the sun can make as pleasant,
Warmth that the clouds could not even shade,
Warmth that no rain could fall with,
The flowers around us bloom, but none blossom with the beauty and grace of you,
The seedlings take root, but gods, none do so like the one you’ve planted in me,
The water they draw into themselves is life-giving, but yours is so much nourishing,
Still I sit here, hoping that you will allow me to bask in your radiance,
Still I sit here, promising that I will grow stronger in body, soul, and mind to be at your side,
Still I sit here, thinking of you when I cannot see, hear, or touch you as I do in my dreams.
Wait for me, my beautiful flower who only becomes more alluring under each moon.
Wait for me, and I will be your loving attendant,
Wait for me, and I will be yours.
You are forbidden to me now, but soon, you will not be. Soon, I will make you mine.
You will never have to look longingly at the wolves who hold and dote on each other while your only partner is the books you keep in your library. I will be everything you want me to be if that is what pleases you.
You will always have a shoulder to lean on, an ear that will listen, a hand that will caress you.
You will always have me.
You will never have to spend your nights crying into your pillow alone because of your father. I will be there to hold you close. I will be the fists that pummel him to the ground for daring to hurt you. Or anyone else that meddles your happiness.
All I can do for you now is watch over you from afar. Guard and protect you from the males I know you do not desire. From the females that have become venomous in jealousy of your unmatched intelligence, spirit, and beauty. From the threats that loom deep in the forest.
I hope you can forgive me for keeping my name and a face a secret from you. I suspect by now you have figured out who I am. And if you have, you will then understand why I commune with you this way.
The elders, nor your father, would allow it since you have not yet presented. Besides…it looks like I have some developments myself that I need to make. You have so consumed my mind and body that I can no longer make sense of certain things.
You are everywhere and yet, you elude me. It is the most tragic of ironies.
Until we meet again, my fair flower. I will see you long before you see me, but you can always find me in our dreams.
Always.
-Your Alpha
The air here had been clammy, too, so when you had let your thumb brush at the corner, the oils from it smudged the ink. Panic stole your breath and you not wanting to blemish the beautiful lettering, you’d slipped the parchment under your pillow and gone to the window to open it in hopes of letting some crisp, fresh air in.
Even here, you could still hear the clang of metal from the forest under lightly falling raindrops. You had let your body move on its own when you’d leaned out from the ledge of your windowsill that was only a few feet from the ground, the baser part of you subconsciously trying to be near to him despite the space between you.
That muggy draft that had clung to your ribs still did not dispel as the cold drops trickled down your body, the tears of the sky slow in their consolation as they dribbled along your arm as you lifted it up and stuck it out of the window.
It still wasn’t enough.
You needed to be able to breathe. And thankfully, you knew just what to do from all the books you read.
Hot water could provide relief to respiratory issues.
Your eyes landed on the largest of the wooden bowls you’d used to collect water from the barrel of rainwater outside, each of your hands holding it as you’d dipped it into the cauldron over boiling water, careful not to let it burn your fingers as you brought it to the tub, the sloshing of it causing you to stare down at it to see your reflection.
Your mouth was ajar with partially sharpened teeth that had not fully shifted back yet, your face flushed with redness and your eyes… your dilated pupils, now the color of the sun where they were usually silver like the moon, glowed back at you.
You blinked rapidly, surprise lighting up your face as you gaped.
Your wolf had been scratching at your psyche to do something about the irremovable weight that felt like it was pushing against your organs.
Another bout of thunder rolled through the sky from outside the semi-circular opening in the wall along the far end of the small, square room. The accompanying flash of lightning brought with it the deadly gleam of daggers behind your eyes, the image of Jungkook’s blood staining it in your mind’s eye as the suffocating pressure in your chest worsened.
You’d had to sit on the edge of the tub, unable to get air between your lips and before you could think, you raised the steaming bowl over your head and let it pour over you.
Its cascade down your flesh had immediately silenced your wolf, who preened at the hot sensation of the liquid all over your flesh. Everywhere the water touched, it washed away the uncomfortable weight that had smothered you so.
When you looked into the mirror across the room, the gold in your irises had been swept away with the last drop of water to leave only silver.
Your surprise had been doused until its remnants became distress as you looked up at the moon, your hands coming together before your bosom as you bowed your head in deference to ask, “Please, gods, do not let him suffer for me. Wherever he is, please, protect him from harm. Keep him safe.”
You’d gone to bed that night without bothering to dry off, the lightest of layers heavy on your skin as hushed prayers and pleas for his safety left your lips while you held the letter he’d left you against your thudding heart.
Words have a way of failing you when he’s around, but that? It was so much easier. So much better when you couldn’t find language sufficient to let him know what you wanted to say.
He seems to understand, because then he’s releasing your skirts and grabbing the wooden tray of salves, gauze, and other medicinal solutions with his uninjured hand and, lost in his eyes, you don’t even realize he’s put it beside him until his voice finds you through it all.
You need not worry for me, my love. I have everything I need right here. I may have had to grow up faster than everyone else around us, but I would do it all over again if it meant that you would be mine.
You only notice your hands are empty when you go to brush your forehead against his, your unoccupied hands lifting to cradle each side of his face as your eyes burn with the tears that threaten to fall.
“You are too good to me, alpha. I promise you that you will never have to be alone again. Not now, and not ever.” You pledge as you kneel between his legs, reaching for the thick roll of white translucent fabric with a loose, open weave. You take it between both hands, your mouth setting in a thin line as you rip it so that you have two moderately sized pieces while your alpha takes in the image of you on your knees before him.
“Nor do you, my love. I am officially yours now, just as you are entirely mine. No one can deny us from each other anymore.” He professes, lifting his unharmed arm so he can sweep your hair out of your face while you work.
It was no small thing to allow an omega to do this. The action was something of a rite that went back to the earliest of their ancestors. When an alpha was harmed in battle or in the hunt for prey, the omega that he let dress his wounds, by doing so, accepted the bond between them. To allow an omega to see an alpha at their most vulnerable…it was a very special, intimate moment.
And you knew of that. He knows because the thought surfaces in your mind the moment you daub the dry fabric against the top of each pectoral where four dark and furiously red lines curve diagonally downward and end on each side of his pelvis. Blood beads the incisions that Yoongi’s serrated claws had left, and the tears that had threatened to fall before fight against the entrapment of your eyelids as you try to blink them away.
“It hurts, doesn’t it, alpha?” You ask with the guilt weighing at your words as you uncork one of the small ovular vials containing a yellow liquid, the woody-sweet scent pungent in your nostrils as you use the oil left by crushed eucalyptus to clean your hands before you pour it onto the strips of fabric you’d just torn and after, you push the cork into the vial and set it down before you.
You let guilt drag each of your hands containing the gauze downward very lightly as you follow the large virgules of red. Where you normally would admire the strong, defined contours of his chest, now, the sight of it has woe whispering in your ear.
His skin is hot to the touch. As if fire burns under his flesh. So fuming and inflamed in the redness that surrounds the gaping, curling lacerations. Both sides of his sternum have been raked– no, ripped–through by sharp claws. Yoongi had cut into your mate’s skin eight blood red half-moons; four on either side of his chest that were turned away from each other, their ends incurving from the base of his neck all the way down his torso and even along his hip bones. Layers of crimson ooze and leak down his body like water, and the sight has something in your bosom tightening in on itself as your vision becomes cloudy.
Somewhere down between the middle of his pectorals, the cloths become too saturated and heavy with blood to soak up any more.
Perhaps the tangibility of his suffering is what finally has the tears falling down your cheeks, the burning in your eyes unavoidable no matter how many times you try to blink it away.
Despite that it feels as if fire sears him everywhere Yoongi’s claws had been, there is worse pain to be felt. Like the gut-wrenching punch that is delivered to his belly when he sees the first of your tears slide down your face.
With the hand he has on your chin, he tilts your chin up as he answers honestly, “Nothing harms me more than watching the light of my life weep for me.”
“I…I can’t help it, alpha.” You respond dolefully, your own stomach dropping to the bowels of your body at the high volume of blood he’s losing so quickly. He’d already turned the entire tub of water he’d been in red, and still he bled. If this kept on…
You don’t let that thought continue. You can’t.
You drop the sopping cloths into an empty glass container you’d put next to the roll of gauze only to take the roll between your hands once again. This time, you do not stop unraveling it until you have much thicker stretches of cloth folded into squares. You do not forget to grab the vial of yellow fluid once more, the viscous oil slow to make its journey to the cloths. You lightly press them against the spots you had had the other ones placed against. The second you put them to his mutilated flesh, they slowly turn crimson. The more they are stained with his lifeblood, the more you are soused with leaden compunction.
It burns, yes, but your sadness smolders him more.
“You are blaming yourself for this.”
It is not a question. It’s a statement.
You draggle each of the gauzes down along the underside of his pectorals, letting them rest there as you watch them turn completely red with his blood.
Momentarily, you wonder if the silvers he’d put on you before would be able to numb the contrition that pulls your spirits away from you.
Your mate will not have any of that.
He runs the pad of his thumb along your chin as he coaxes, “Peer into my eyes, Y/N.”
Unquestioningly, you do. He’s more than earned your obedience. What you see in the depths of those orbs is unending and bottomless in the plunge to the part of him that he would never show anyone else. The part of him that he had kept buried and sunken in wait for the right creature to unearth it. So many masks he had had to wear when so many had ulterior motives and designs around him, but this creature before him? He would break them all to pieces so she could see him for what he really was.
Once, he had asked his father how he would really know if anyone wanted him for him and not his power or his rank. His father had simply laughed and told him: You won’t. All you can do is watch and wait to see someone’s true colors when they think no one else is watching.
This creature before him who cried in the face of his pain and suffering did so out of pure, genuine sorrow. He could feel it sinking your spirits, your very thoughts through the bond. He could see it deep in the valley of your eyes that are, even in the guilt that tries to make them cloudy, drizzling with love for him.
There was no doubt in his mind that you were true and that you were absolutely, unequivocally his. That is why he allows the walls of his reservedness to crumble as he confides:
“Hear my words, my love. This is a result of my own weakness. I teased you before about you wanting to do this. But know that you are only in this situation because I wasn’t strong enough to do what I needed to do.” He doesn’t let go of your chin. With his other hand, he places it between your breasts. The action has him sucking his lip between his teeth as excruciating pain shoots through his upper bicep where the flesh has been torn from limb. A river of red gushes from the open wound, but it matters little to him when pangs of your heart are slower even than his as if it, too, was sulking itself in blame. Despite the way his split blood vessels cry more tears of blood in the movement, he goes on with a grimace, “I know what you’re thinking, my sweet, beautiful girl. You are not to blame for this. Do not pity me. Do not feel guilty for me. If anything, I should be the one pitying you for having to tend to me for such serious injuries.” He leans forward, his lips meeting the flesh between your brows, “I’m sorry you had to see that. And I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you with only a scratch. But I meant every word of what I said when I made that oath to you that I would protect you with my body. My body can be mended. My soul, if it lost you, could not.”
The male before you shouldn’t even be able to move in his condition.
And yet, he does.
For you.
Your own emotions crack and fracture under the seriousness of his words and unhesitant ministrations. Each is packed with the mass of his candor and you can’t stop yourself from pouring your heart out to him.
“You ask me to simply accept this…this agony that you must be feeling, alpha, and I,” you cry out,” I cannot! I care too much for you to simply turn off my emotions. I cannot do it!”
You lift the strips of soddened fabric away from his chest through eyes full of tears, your sight descending to where you hold them in your now shaking hands as you place those, too, in the same glass bowl as the others. “You ask me not to blame myself, but your wounds…they are there because of me. And they are serious. Serious enough that if this keeps on, you-“ Your sniffle, shaking your head in unwillingness to finish the unbearable thought. You take the gauzy roll in your hands once more and unwind it, you have to rely on muscle memory because at this point, the constant slew of tears is too much for you to see through.
Your alpha’s eyes soften as you try to rub at your own, your tear-streaked cheeks sullied by the tracks the salty water had left, the fresh blood that now covers your hands a stark contrast to the darker, dried blood he’d painted on you earlier during the Smearing.
Why did that make you look even more beautiful to him?
“I’m not asking you to simply turn a blind eye to your feelings, sweetheart. Such a task would be difficult for anyone with a heart to attain.” He brings his lips under one of your eyes, the tang of salt and iron left on his lips as he does. “What I ask is that you try not to blame yourself for my errors. It is my misjudgment that earned me more scars. These are not the first, and they likely will not be the last.” He turns his head so he can leave a soft, featherlight kiss under your other eye. “These scars shall be proof of the trial I had to face to earn you. And I would take hundreds of thousands more of these for you. If I had lost an arm or leg tonight, I would have been alright with it. Your smile and your happiness are worth that much to me.”
The sound of the white fabric shredding between your fingers is muffled under his voice. It’s as if your senses have been dulled to all but him. Even the firelight fails to crackle in your ears amidst the steady beat of his own heart while you tremblingly let the lip of the vial teem with the oil that smells of honey, mint, and citrus.
“My happiness should never come at the expense of pain or suffering, alpha,” you murmur mournfully as you eye the bawling gashes of scarlet.
You crimp the gauze into two thick squares once they have been wetted with the oil before holding them down over the underside of each of his pectorals. You wait until the part in contact with his frayed skin is steeped in scarlet before you flip each of them over and depress them along the arched curvatures going in opposite directions toward each side of his pelvis.
His lips tighten, wrinkles forming where none existed before when you tenderly wipe away at the jagged ends of each of the four lines on either hemisphere of his torso where Yoongi’s claw had pierced the deepest, not bothering to hide his expression from you now at his most vulnerable. There was nothing to hide now. No reason to keep his pain from you when he knew that doing so would just upset you more.
It pains you to see him like this. You wish there was a way for you to make it all disappear, but unfortunately, there were no medicinal or herbal remedies that had the power to do that.
“Such is our way, omega. It is my duty to protect you. I will never neglect that obligation if it ensures your safety." He hisses when you gingerly drag the gauze along the same path upward to collect the stray rivulets of crimson that had dripped from the top of his wounds.
The incinerating flare of flames feels like it is scorching him from the inside out under each slash and tear in his flesh left by Yoongi’s claws, and each time you attempt wiping away the bloody tears his body weeps, more of his life essence is there to replace it.
The oil offers a mild cooling sensation, but it is similar to throwing a block of frozen ice into a roaring bonfire.
You note the lack of stoppage of blood flow from those wounds, concern turning your lips down even more. What you had been reluctant to think about before was becoming all the more possible now. Even if you did keep trying to refuse it.
Worry soon lugs you asunder with the guilt that swims densely about you, and your brows furrow as you instruct, “Alpha, I need you to lie down now. You aren’t having any changes in the blood loss and I fear that something bad may happen if you lose too much more.”
He nods, but the action has a dot spotting his vision and no matter how many times he blinks, it remains. Soon, there are more. And as he holds your watery gaze, more tears trek down the contours of your cheeks.
Something in his chest twinges that has nothing to do with the wounds Yoongi had left.
“As you say, my love.” He brings one knee carefully up toward his chest, his foot resting on the edge of the wood as he asks “What will you have me to do with this arm of mine? It’s in bad shape.”
You grab the now near-empty vial of eucalyptus oil that you’d set on the ground between your knees and return it to its place on the tray, your mind easily supplying you with the answer to his question after having spent so many nights hunched over tomes about medicinal treatments and herbal remedies as you rise, one of your hands wrapping around his nape and the other laying itself over the palm he has pressed between your breasts. The arm that palm is connected to is the one that Yoongi had mangled such that you can see bone between the split mess of muscles bordering it.
You can only imagine how much agony he must be in. If you could take it into yourself, you would.
Not that he would let you, though.
His promise to you had been made not only out of love for you, but out of pride as an alpha. An alpha that could not protect their mate was not deserving or worthy of her. It was an alpha’s responsibility by right to be the source of security and protection for his omega. An alpha who could not guarantee that for his omega had failed her.
Or so the tradition had held.
“You need to relax this arm and let me maneuver it so that it rests by your side. What I’m about to do will require a certain position,” you urge him down by the back of his neck, and while you know your measly strength could never compete against his, the fact that he allows you to move him so readily is an obvious display of trust. His back is laid atop the bench first, and you are delicate in the way you guide his head down until it, too, comes to a rest on the wood. “And it…it will hurt. I’m going to have to move your arm so we do not risk further injuring it. After that, I will need to clean it before applying pressure where the worst of the damage is.”
With conviction clearer than any concoction you could give him, he asserts, “Do what you have to do. You know what needs to be done. You have trained and studied well. It goes without saying that you have my trust. All of it.” He adds.
Gods, you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect mate.
“Let me be the voice of reassurance this time, alpha,” you express while you curl your fingers around the hand of his that is placed along your sternum. Your other cups the underside of his forearm and, scrupulously, you usher it to his side before slowly and surely straightening it. He grimaces, and to distract him, you assure, “I’ll do everything I can to fix you. I promise, alpha.”
You monitor the bone in his arm that shifts in the movement, the middle of his humerus exposed and clearly fractured. From the dark line running perpendicular to the bone along the end closest to his elbow, you know instantly that he’s suffered from a transverse fracture to the bone. Honestly, you had expected worse with the way Yoongi had thrashed his head with Jungkook’s poor arm trapped between his teeth. Those teeth had managed to pierce halfway through the vessels and muscles lining his upper arm, the punctures still gushing blood.
It should have been impossible for him to have moved it. And yet…
“How did you move this arm when your bone has been broken, alpha?” You ask, swallowing the emotion that wants to be let out as you assess him.
His brows scrunch together and he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The pain was inconsequential next to the sadness that pooled in those pretty eyes.”
You fight the burning at the edges of your vision as you silently take your skirt between your fingers, the soft material pliable under your fingers. You don’t say anything. All you can do is let your hands work as you find the slit cut into it and tear along the line.
“What are you doing, my love?”
It is a question not asked out of doubt, but genuine curiosity.
The sound of ripping fabric ceases as you pull a sizable amount of the organza away from you and turn it inside out before placing it onto the tray beside his head and grabbing for the rectangular glass canister next to the eucalyptus oil.
I have to clean it. It’s infected already, and if I don’t get the bacteria out, your condition will worsen. Once I clean it, I will have to mobilize and brace it. A piece of my skirt should be the outer layer so as not to discomfort you.
You don’t trust your voice not to rupture, so you gently push the words to him through the bond as you grab the roll of cotton wool beside the gauze and unwind it before pressing it to your lips, closing your eyes, and silently begging for the mercy of the gods to take pity on him. To save him.
You knew what to do, but there was only so much that herbs and medicinal solutions could do.
You discard the thought like one of the blood-stained gauzes before you. You couldn’t afford to think like that. Especially not when you’d promised to put him at ease as he had always done for you.
When you bring the wool away from your mouth, you lift the lid from the container and the musky, earthy smell of the ginger poultice you’d prepared weeks ago joins the scent of muted iron in the air as you dip the wool into it several times to ensure its transfer onto the material.
The ginger will not hurt you, alpha. The pressure I will have to put on you will, however.
“I meant what I said, omega. Do what you need to do. I can take it.” He confides, opening his mouth so he can bite onto it.
I know, alpha. I know. More than anyone.
You pick up the considerably long, thick strip of wool from where you’d left it in a heap atop of the open poultice, bending over him before straightening it out so that it ran the length of his upper arm. Thankfully, it was just wide and long enough to completely cover his arm.
With one hand holding one end and your other hand on the other, you bring it down over the split skin from just under his shoulder to just above his elbow.
Just as you’d told him, there is no burning sensation as the gelatinous, thick solution is applied and spread across his sheared muscles, blood vessels, and bone. The blood spurting from the ruptures in his flesh is quick to permeate into the cotton, but you’d expected as much.
The ginger and eucalyptus have antioxidants, antibacterial, antiseptic, and disinfecting properties good for fighting infections. That’s why I chose to have Namjoon collect them from my personal store that I made.
Have I ever told you how attractive I find your intelligence?
Yes, alpha. You have.
You smile through the tears as you untwist more cotton wool from its spool, careful to lay it flat over the existing layer you’d just put over him. It, too, becomes saturated with his life’s essence within seconds.
He needed something else. Something to help boost the efficacy of the poultice. And you knew just the thing.
You scan the tray, evaluating the vials and containers left on it as you note the last addition you had yet to make. There, in the middle, was the small wooden box no longer than your hand and no taller than your pinky. You flip open the latch, the powder inside a brilliant yellow with the hint of orange tang under your nose.
His irises follow your every movement as you peel the layers of cotton wool up and off of him, disposing of them both in the same bowl as the other discolored fabrics.
When you unravel the dressings this time and steep them in the poultice, your other grabs a considerably sized clump of the crushed turmeric powder and sprinkles it all over his slashed open arm.
Three handfuls of that later, you are satisfied with the way the powder has been packed over the gash and surround it with several strips of the material lathered in the ginger solution.
The turmeric has curcumin in it, which can enhance granulation tissue formation and wound contraction. It also decreases inflammation and oxidation and can increase antioxidant capacity of the body, which means it helps fight compounds that could damage you.
The words are recited just as you had written them in one of your journals, and you busy yourself remembering that in lieu of your mind wandering to darker, scarier thoughts as his life’s essence clings to your hands while you rip apart more strips of cotton and run them all through the container of poultice.
Keep going, my love. Tell me more.
He feels the quiver of your hands as you lay each rectangular cloth down over his raw, chafed abrasions lining his chest, his uninjured arm wrapping around your thigh to steady you as his temples begin to ache.
The ginger root that this poultice was made from speeds along the healing process for cuts and abrasions among the other qualities it possesses. You won’t have to worry about these dressings falling off.
Underneath each dressing you affix to his front, his very cells feel as if they are being engulfed in an inferno. One that only blazes hotter every second that passes.
The gingerols and shogaols are compounds in it that will work as a natural adhesive to the cotton and to your skin without sticking or gluing it to you.
His second lack of response has you tilting your head in confusion.
You had said before that the poultice was not meant to feel like that, so whatever was happening, he was certain that you were not the cause. Perhaps it was just some strange side effect of blood loss? How odd that this sensation did not spread to his arm. He really should have studied more.
I’m fine, love. I think. My chest… it feels like I’m burning up from the inside. Have you any idea what that could be?
You’d read many books on herbology and medicine practices. None had ever described that as a symptom of blood loss.
With worry making your mouth go drier than cotton, you examine the way he blinks rapidly as if trying to get something out of his eyes.
W-what else ails you, alpha?
More dots have begun to occupy his sight, and no matter how many times he tries to close and open his eyes, they will not dissipate.
I cannot see properly. It is like there are dark circles blotting parts of my vision.
˙
That was definitely a symptom of blood loss. But the burning sensations? That wasn’t characteristic of the lesions that had been cut into his skin. Nor was the ceaseless gush of scarlet from his chest injuries.
You recall the events that had brought you both here, identifying that it had only been Yoongi that had managed to harm your alpha. He’d been bitten on his arm and struck by claws on his chest. Two different points of contact with two different mediums.
You compare the two areas where he’d been mutilated, spotting the angered, puffed up flesh just that became more raised the closer it got to his now covered traumatisms on his torso. Like something was agitating it from the inside. His arm, however, mangled as it is, is not as badly puckered up around the gash despite the blood he’s losing. Which brings you to your next observation: His blood drips slowly and languidly from his chest wounds where it wells and spurts from his arm. With as deeply as Yoongi had pierced through him, he should have been losing more.
What is going on in that pretty head of yours, my love? Have you…have you discovered something?
There’s a slight pause between each of his unhurried words through your bond. As if it took effort to pull them forth.
You push through the distress that wants to drag you down, forcing yourself to focus and do everything that you could to aid him as you turn your attention to his arm now that you had taken care of his chest wounds.
You needed to stop the river of red that streamed down his arm. Without removing the cloth you’d set over it, you use your teeth to shear the white open-weaved fabric from the now nearly depleted roll it had once been spun around.
I will have to apply pressure as I said before to make sure the medicines set on the punctures in your arm. It…it’s going to hurt, alpha. If you want, you can bite onto my skirts. I don’t mind.
The offer earns you a nod, and so you rise to stand by his side and a wad of your skirt in your hands, hoping that he doesn’t mention the way that they shake as you do.
Forgive me, alpha.
It’s all the warning he gets before you place the dressings over the first layer covering his arm and push into the afflicted area, mindful of where his bone has been broken and avoiding that as you squeeze. Unlike the ruptures along his chest, this area does not nearly scald you.
He curses, his teeth grating into the fabric of your skirt as you apologize over and over again, guilt leaving tangible evidence of itself on your face while you cry for him.
Anyone else would have flinched, but not your alpha. No, he simply screws his eyes shut as he hisses through the material between his lips.
I’m sorry, alpha. I’m so, so sorry. But you have to stay like this for five minutes. I have to try to make the bleeding stop.
The dots that had been impairing his vision increase and the ache in his temples he’d felt before turns into a fierce throbbing as the world begins to dim around him while the claw marks along his chest ripple forth with black blood.
You perceive the way his eyes begin to flutter closed, the arm he’s wrapped around your thigh beginning to loosen. A tremble overcomes his body in the way that it suddenly is as if it’s gone down many degrees, and at that, a lump of dread drops into your stomach.
Not wanting him to slip into unconsciousness, you squeal. “N-no! Stay with me, a-alpha!”
Your voice cleaves through the barren desert that has set upon your throat.
I’m sorry, my love…I’m trying, but…it’s cold, yet my body feels like it’s on fire.
There are longer standstills between his words now. Like each one has to be dug up from the recesses of his mind.
Why has it suddenly become a….a blizzard in here? Why does…does my head feel…feel like someone is…is pounding… into it?
The dread in your belly is joined by another chunked mass of fear as his responsiveness slows with the unseen ice that encases and numbs him. When his good arm falls limply to his side from where it had been encircled around your thigh, you snivel, shaking your head vigorously back and forth as you whisper through a cracked voice, “No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be.”
As his eyelids tiredly droop, that’s when the panic grips your organs and wrings them out.
You had to stay strong. And you could not panic. Doing so would only stress him further.
But that thought is difficult to keep under the fleeting consciousness of your mate before you, who squeezes his eyes shut before opening them wide in effort to keep awake as you had instructed as he shivers.
You swallow around a brittle, sandy throat, wiping your hands on your bodice before your attention sifts around the room in search of something, anything, to help you. You start with the tray. The bowl of blood-soaked, soiled gauze and wrappings sits on its edge, the rolls of gauze and cotton wool in front of it. Next to them, the rectangular wooden box of turmeric powder remains beside the canister of ginger extract. Around them, the vial of eucalyptus lays on its side where the other glass containers of assorted colors and contents are placed. Three had been unused.
The first was a smaller brown bottle of oil secreted from crushed neem kernels you’d plucked from the seeds yourself. The second was a moderately sized canister of milk-colored paste you’d boiled and ground from coconuts. The last was a large flask of honey.
All would work to stop the bleeding. Five minutes had felt an eternity with his continually shallow breaths in your ear, his heart rate weakening under the lack of blood to push through his body. You hadn’t understood why your vocal cords felt so sore, but when you release him and the mewling coming from your mouth dies out, that answers the question.
You waste no time emptying the bottle of neem oil over each of his wounds as you sniffle, “Keep looking at me, alpha. Don’t go to sleep. I-I need you awake for me.”
Despite the gnawing pain in his temples and the ever increasing temperature that boils the parts of him under the skin of his thorax, he battles the darkness that wants to swallow him as he tries to stay in the light of your eyes that shine glassily down on him while you pour the honey, with unsteady hands, along each striation channeling his chest and arm before adding another lining of gauze over his crimson turned bandages.
“One more, alpha. One more, and then I can make a splint for your arm.” You don’t care anymore about the snot that runs down your nose with the tears trailing it as his skin begins to lose its color.
He nictates through bleary, dimmed orbs, and the sight twists your heartstrings.
You keep your hands busy, because you know the moment you stop is the moment he could slip through your fingers.
You cover both hands in the creamy mixture and with the first pass of your fingers against his sternum, you wrench your hand back in the overwhelming heat that scorches you like a blazing sun.
“You’re burning up, alpha.” The words are choked out. “It’s gotten worse.”
He says nothing. Doing so would cause it to sear him even more.
His pained expression is answer enough. And the discomfort of the sensation it had brought was nothing compared to what you knew he faced. For him, you would cross any sea of fire. For him, you would do this. No matter the cost.
So, you gently trail your fingers around the reddened, plowed planes of his chest to surround all sides of the new contours there in the substance.
You shake the canister over his arm so that thick dollops land over the flesh there so you can spread them around, too.
Once you’re certain no part of him is bereft of your attention, you straighten and scour the room for anything you could use as a splint. There alone atop the cabinet by the door, was a clipboard with paper. No doubt a visitor’s log.
It was the perfect length for his arm.
Before you leave his side, you check his vitals for any unseen changes. Still he attempts to combat the throes of sleep that wish to pull him asunder, but the most serious of his wounds have now been disinfected and dressed.
“Alpha,” you prod, “I’ll be right back, okay? I need to get something to stabilize your arm.”
You wait for him to give a slow incline of his head, the action causing him to wince as explosive pain fires through his temples.
You turn, but the watchful glance you keep on him remains as you make your way across the room. You do not miss the way his fingers along his good arm twitch as if searching for you.
Your fingers close around the edge of the board of wood, your own chest splintering at the sight.
You return to him within seconds, but gods, it had felt like hours.
This time, you walk over to the side of him where his bad arm now rests, one of your hands wrapping around the underside of his arm to coax it only an inch upward. He lets you so you can slip the board underneath it as you observe him for any fluctuations in symptoms. His pupils are stagnant and idle, but they do not stray from you even as his breathing begins to slow and his heart beats become fainter and fainter.
Worry sets in your veins as you take the piece of your skirts that you’d torn earlier and tie it around the board of wood and the bandages you’d put there.
When you press your index and middle finger to the pulsating vein along his neck, it beats feebly.
He needed to replenish the blood he’d lost before it was too late. And you knew, right then, exactly what you needed to do to fix that.
However, no matter how much you flipped through the pages of the books you’d read in your mind, the answer to his inquiries and asymptomatic conditions he’d alerted you to did not match what you knew of blood loss. Whatever he had described was clearly something else. Something that Yoongi must have done since he’d been the only one to successfully injure your mate.
Yoongi, who had bitten him on the arm and his claws on Jungkook’s torso where, surprisingly, Jungkook had explained the worst of his pain to be. Where you yourself had felt it to be in the irate ire of the wounds there so hot to the touch.
It is with that identification that you scrap the books you’d read about common ailments in lieu of one you’d been hunched over for many weeks trying to memorize in its abundance of knowledge. One that had detailed poisons and toxins. There was one that matched what you had seen and heard from him. One that, if introduced into the body, was capable of corrosive necrosis in cells and had sensations and symptoms that matched what he’d described. One that was odorless, colorless, and impossible to cure.
It must have been dappled on Yoongi’s claws. He must have known about the deadly poison carried by a large fungus that even necromancers hesitated to harvest. It was capable of causing the entire bodily organs and tissues to break down and feel as if they were burning in their degradation when the toxins turned the cells against each other.
Jungkook’s eyes close, and horror clods your ribs and bowels of your body.
You had to keep him awake. For fear of losing his life, you had to keep him from sinking into the darkness.
Stay with me, my mate. My alpha. My love. Please, don’t leave me.
The words course like a ravine through the bond, the waters of your affections evident in the tracks they leave down your cheeks as you lift your leg up and over so you can sit astride him, desperation making you move before your mind can. The raindrops of your sadness fall over him like a fall downpour, and soon, his entire chest is wet with the salve of your handmade solutions and sadness.
The longer his eyes stay shut, the closer he dangles to that dangerous idea you’d kept rejecting and denying. That idea became more real by the moment.
You promised me, alpha. You promised me that you wouldn’t leave me! I can’t do this without you!
Distress takes control as the rush of thoughts spill from you and you bring your hand to your teeth that you had subconsciously sharpened in the iron that now falls across your tongue.
I can’t do this without you, alpha. Life without you was life without meaning. Life without you was like having silver thrust on me every day from the moment I woke to the moment I fell asleep: gray, senseless and deadening.
Something warm trickles from the sides of your lips when all of your now edged, serrated upper teeth easily prick and slice through your palm and you suck a mouthful between your lips.
The taughtened muscles around his eyes and mouth slacken, the movement of his irises behind his lids moving this way and that. As if he was still trying to search for you in the darkness. The gentle thud of his heart is all that you hear in your ears anymore. No other sounds matter.
You speak to him through it, hoping with everything in you that doing so will give him something to hold onto.
I love you, alpha. I love you more than anything in this world. So please, come back to me. Come back to me so I can express it to you, show it to you, and make more wonderful, beautiful, colorful memories with you.
You take his chin between the fingers of your other hand, lifting it before using your thumb to part his lips.
With the hand you’d just bitten, you hold it over his mouth only to turn your palm to the side before curling your digits in, your nails sinking into the fragile flesh to cut into it so that more streaks of crimson dribble down, the dark drops of your blood falling between his lips.
Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow it, but it’s not enough.
As you watch your blood spread across his tongue, you can’t help but notice how his skin has gone whiter than sleet, his usual golden glow drained with his life’s essence as he continues to shudder beneath you.
The faint presence of him dwindles in the bond like candlelight that the cold darkness schemes to snuff out, but still he is kindled in yours as you lean forward, your mouth seeking him.
Take my blood, alpha. Drink and replenish what you have lost. It is the only way.
The last sound of you is tucked in his mind just as your mouth slots itself over his, the mouthful of your blood that you had drawn forth from your hand soon emptied into his as he swallows it weakly. You mindfully set your bleeding hand between the middle of his sternum, the thick redness sobbing for him, too, as it spreads down his torso and seeps into the coverings draped across his chest.
With the first swill of you down his throat, the throbbing in his temples begins to dull and the air around him starts to warm.
It’s as if your blood had passed life into him, for his tongue eventually sweeps at the excesses of your mouth for the remnants that percolate from the small scrapes your teeth had left in your cheeks. You let him lick it, and with each pass of his tongue over each one, the muscle beating under your hand on his chest beats steadier. Stronger. Louder.
He required more. Way more after all that he had lost. And you? You intended to give it to him.
When he’s lapped all of your quintessence up, you pull away only to bring the hand you’d bitten to his lips in offering.
With his eyes still closed, he can’t see it, but he can smell it.
The tang of iron is powerful enough to summon his mouth to it, his baser being taking over as he closes his mouth around your open palm.
His teeth pierce through you easily and when your blood bursts forth from the punctures and he sups it without hesitation.
The violent, searing pain stemming from the claw marks along his torso where your blood had permeated through his bandages starts to lessen amid the ache that is dispelled in his skull. The quavering of his body soon ceases in the absence of the chill he’d felt before.
He wraps his lips tighter around you, and when he extracts your essence this time, it is with more urgency.
You run your other hand through his dark, ebony hair, the color slowly returning to his cheeks as he drinks from you.
“Take as much as you need, my love. You will require quite a few mouthfuls to, ah-“
You pause when he detaches from your hand, licking at the stray droplets of your blood before gripping your forearm to bring your wrist to his nose so he can inhale and run his lips longingly along it. His head falls back as he does, the pink muscle slipping between his lips to taste the remnants of you there, too.
“Want to…bite you…right here. Can I?” He asks hoarsely yet huskily.
You’re already answering before he’s even finished. “I’m all yours, alpha.”
The implications of this are not lost on you. By puncturing your scent glands where they produce the oils and scent of you the most–seconded only by your neck–his bite will forever leave his trace where he’d enter you. No other wolf would be able to take in your succulent smell without his lingering odor behind it.
From where you are seated on his lap, you swear you see his eyes roll back behind his lids.
When his canines elongate such that they protrude from his upper lip and he penetrates your flesh along the middle of your wrist, your blood eagerly teems into his mouth. Just like the first time he’d bitten you, there is no pain in the sharpness of those teeth. What was urgency before becomes hunger now as he feeds on you, his cheeks hollowing as he quaffs the life-giving nectar you have produced just for him.
You shudder as he draws deep, gulping mouthful after mouthful and all the worry you’d had before is sapped away as he does.
Your flavor is so fucking saccharine on his tongue, and each time your essence washes down his throat, his body surges with vitality and energy.
He can’t get enough of it. It’s too good. You’re too good.
More he takes and more he swallows like a crazed male, and you allow it as your own lids lower while you ogle him as the released endorphins stored in the glands along your wrist flood you in pleasure as you mindlessly–instinctively– rut your hips into his.
“Do I taste good, alpha?” You moan softly, your body growing limp as the fingers you’d twisted and twined around his locks loosen.
You taste sweeter than sweet.
His good arm shoots out so his fingers can splay around your hip to steady you as he indulges in the pulses and pangs of strength that return to him with each consuming swig of your lifeblood, your hips helped back and forth by the hand he has on one of them as your moans turn to whimpers.
You taste something like pineapple, grapes, strawberries, and everything good in this world.
When his eyes open, he looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess. Like you’re some kind of deity, and he is some servant beneath you.
He revels in the revelation that graces him as he takes in the sight of you atop him.
Your crimson-stained lips have slightly fallen ajar to reveal still jagged, pointed canines, remnants of red still flecking the sides of your mouth. Your silver irises have been glazed by desire, the daubing of crimson along your lids creating a deprived picture.
The dried, dark paint of his own blood that he’d smeared all over you was still there, but the new addition of his scarlet handprint between your breasts and streaks the same color all along your skirt and bodice are all the more depicting of a debased creature.
You straddle him, your gown ripped unevenly along one of your legs to reveal one bare calf and thigh.
How he had fucking ruined you.
His once pure, innocent goddess that must have been a fallen, divine being sent to him to save him.
“J-Jungkook,” you whine when your vision begins to darken at the edges as his teeth bury themselves deeper into your flesh so he can cravingly command more of you down, “I…I-“
The strong hand on waist pulls you down over his hardening member, your breath hitching when you remember he’s entirely naked beneath you.
“Even goddesses have their limit. I can see it,” he groans around your wrist as he savors the way you sag forward, your thighs loosening from where you’d been squeezing him between them. “I can feel it.”
He takes one more mouthful of your rich, piquant ichor, your front slumping forward until your head rests in the crook of his neck.
With your jugular vein so close to his ears, the rhythm set by the tune of your heart beats far too slow. The sound snaps him out of his craze instantly as the hand on your waist clutches you tighter as if you might slip away if he doesn’t hold you close enough.
“Goddess? Do you mean…me?” You drawl out the words through the tingling sensation in your head.
Despite the loss of your blood, affection courses through you when he attentively dislodges his teeth from you and makes sure to catch the bright red drops that run forth from the two new dark blots along the underside of your smaller wrist. As he does, he affirms, “You saved me.”
The hand at your waist gives you another comforting squeeze before it journeys up along your side, your shoulder, and then down your arm until his digits close around your wrist so he can rub soothing circles into it. “I was so lost in the darkness, omega, but your voice…I followed it back to you.”
“Me?” It’s all you can say. The rush of endorphins fades with the extraction of his teeth, and your hips slow to still as his words sober you.
One side of his lips turn up at that. “Yes, my love. You.” He coaxes your wrist upwards so he can kiss you where his teeth and yours had been. “You, the light of my life. The reason for my being, The purpose of my existence.” His head falls to the side as he shepherds your hand toward the palpitating muscle along his chest. “I once thought of you as my queen, but I see now that you’re so much more than that.” He places your hand right above his heart, and you’re so mesmerized by those beaming irises of gold that you don’t even realize what he’s done when those warm, calloused fingers brush along the side of your cheek until they rest in your hair and his palm holds the edge of your jaw to coax it upward as he brings his mouth near to yours. “Your voice is a song that even the muses envy. Your body is the drink of the gods that even they would fight wars for. Your mind and soul are so perfect and good that even demons would wish they could bottle them.”
His eyes twinkle with sincerity as he goes on, both fondness and affection for him taking turns to cleanse you of the desire you’d felt before so that something much deeper can fill your entire being.
“Shhh, alpha… you need to rest now. This can all wait until later.” Your words are throaty and full, for your heart has somehow found its way there, too. “You lost a lot of blood and-“
He seals your mouth with his, and like wax under a newborn wick, you melt into it. He’s warm and gentle in the warmness that he emanates that no candle ever could. The quiet intimacy of it has your lids falling to a close, the air around you making way for you both as you share each other’s breath.
There was nothing quite like this. Nothing like the way that your fingers sought any part of him that they could as they both encircled his uninjured wrist, unwilling to let him go. Nothing like the way your body was perfectly molded against his, the kiss akin to a butterfly’s wing in its softness that could take your breath away. It was the water that quenched after a drought. It was the furs that gave such comfort on a winter’s night. It was the rain and a flame all at once.
And gods, he couldn’t bear even a second’s separation from her. Truly, he’d never been so blessed with the gift of life until now. Until you. Hell would surely have frozen over before he would relinquish this: your mesmerizing, mellow eyes; your pliant, pretty lips; your stuttered, stammered breaths whenever he looked at you; your smaller, tinier hands that loosed and tightened around his wrist as he held you.
But his damned lungs just had to get some air, and so he had been forced into breaking the kiss.
When his mouth parts from yours, he breathes heavily. “I do not need rest when I have you. Imaginings and visions leave little to be desired when their source is on top of me like this. And,” the other side of his lips lift up and you’re sure that thudding in your ears gets louder as he does, “It would be rather impolite not to pay my respects to you, my divine little deity. You were–are–magnificent.”
You try to hide your face in his neck, your cheeks heating up at his praise. He won’t have any of that, and so he urges it back up.
Looking into those eyes is like looking into two orbs spun by the sun. That warmth that emanates over your skin like warm rays makes everything else lackluster, and even his voice carries that vivid color of emotion as he voices, “Do not hide from the truth, my love.”
You make a sound of questioning, not understanding what he’s just said. It’s as if there’s a fuzzy blanket around your body and mind, your disoriented thoughts too sluggish to formulate for you to say much more.
He chuckles lightly, his chest moving up and down gentle enough to not jostle you.
“You do not know it, but I shall help you see.” He offers, nosing at your jawline as he does. “Allow me to show you what you did to me, my love. I think you’ll find the evidence of your miracles when you do.”
He releases you, a quiet whine leaving your lips at the absence of his touch. Soft lips are there to soothe you when his mouth brushes where his hand had been at the edge of your jaw. There he presses his lips as he tells you, “Look down, my love.”
You’d been expecting to see more blood spilling from the open wounds arcing down both sides of his chest, his bandages completely soaked through with his life’s essence.
You did not expect to see one of the lines of gauze you’d laid down over the lacerations lifted in the air by your alpha to reveal a deep gash completely closed, the angry red slash now only a faint line of pink.
As if it were nothing but an old war scar.
At first, you think you might be seeing things.
You blink owlishly at him, and he grins only to pull back another strip of fabric that you’d used to pack another wound.
It, too, is only a faded, paled remnant of what it had been minutes ago.
Your fingers lethargically draw down his torso where the flesh that had been raised and furious is now smooth and normal.
There is no pain that festers there with the poison that had been set upon him by Yoongi’s claw. Its dissipation had had nothing to do with your medicines. He knows that now. It had been you.
Your lids have begun to grow heavy as sleep begins to beckon, and all you can do through the drowsiness that has set as you rest one of your temples against his shoulder so you can still stare at him as you manage the only word you can summon in your dumbfounded state. “How?”
“My mother used to tell me stories about our ancestors. It was said that the first rulers of our kind, who were chosen by the gods, were given abilities no others possessed.” Your mate tosses the soiled dressings into the bowl before he reaches for his splinted arm wrapped in bandages. “Abilities that made the rest of our kind lower their heads in awe.” He unties the knot you’d made out of the ripped fragment of your gown you’d affixed the wooden board to, and while he does, he tells you, “She told me that the king and queen of our kind were fated by their souls. That the first omega’s songs of mourning had so moved the gods when he’d been killed trying to protect her that they gave her the power to heal him through her kiss.”
Slumber drags you away from him, his voice fading the more it tugs and tugs you as he goes on. “So powerful was she that the other wolves revered her as a goddess in her capacity to mend and restore not only the physical body, but the soul and mind as well. And her king? He was vested by the gods who took pity on him with strength, speed, size, and stamina that no other could match.”
Distantly, you think you see a glimpse of the linens you’d put around his arm being peeled back to uncover what you had thought had been a mangled mess of bone and flesh. But no longer. Now, just like his chest, there are only small grazes and punctures that have since been pulled together with slightly darker cicatrix marring him.
When your lids fall closed and sleep takes you from him, he uses that arm to secure you close as he attentively watches over you. In your ear, he confides, “Rest up now, beautiful deity. You shall need it for what is to come, my love.”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts writing#bts x reader#jungkook fanfic#bts scenarios#bts#jungkook bts#bts smut#jungkook smut#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#alpha!jungkook#alpha!jungkook x reader#dom!jungkook#sub!reader
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
three months ౨ৎ kim mingyu
♡ kim mingyu x fem!reader
ᝰ 2.6k words | fluff, angst | best friends to lovers
☆ mentions of drinking, oblivious reader, and a WHOLE LOT of calling.
♫ don’t wanna cry — seventeen
ೃ⁀➷ return to masterlist here
MINGYU COULD NEVER be an actor, with how poorly he was hiding his disapproval of your news.
It was a Thursday evening when he finished his last final exam for the semester before heading to your apartment for your weekly dinner. As Mingyu made his way through the crowded streets toward your apartment, the warm afternoon sunlight painted the city in a cozy glow, casting long shadows across the pavement.
It was a tradition that you and Mingyu shared since the beginning of your friendship, dinner at your place on Thursday and then his as rotation.
Countless times, friends teased the two of you about your weekly "dates", but you both denied that it was anything but that.
It wasn't a lie. You had been friends since freshmen year when you met Mingyu through your high school friend Vernon, who had introduced you to all his twelve friends, and the two of you had been best friends for the past three years.
Now, although there were times when Mingyu would concerningly question—more like interrogate—every guy you went on a date with and maybe hold your waist a little too closely during crowded parties, you knew your feelings for Mingyu were hopeless.
That man had never been on a date for all the years you had been friends, even though there were lines of people trying to gain his attention, so it was clear he wasn't looking for a relationship with anyone.
You couldn't be an actress either, as your entire college friend group had caught on to your feelings over the years but it was easy to convince all of the twelve boys to keep their mouths shut and take it to their graves.
Now back to the news that you had broken to Mingyu as soon as he walked inside your house.
"What do you mean you're going abroad? For how long?" You shrugged your shoulders, walking over to where Mingyu was sitting on the kitchen island and placing his plate of pasta down along with yours. The vibrant colors of the pasta dishes on the table seemed to clash with the heavy atmosphere that hung over the room, accentuating Mingyu's deepening frown.
With a wince at Mingyu's look, you tried to maintain a casual demeanor, "I'm just going to be in London for three months for an internship."
You sat across from Mingyu, grabbing your fork to start eating. Mingyu, however, lost his appetite at your words. Amidst the distant hum of the city outside, Mingyu's troubled expression stood out against the backdrop of your cozy kitchen.
"When do you leave? Is this decided?" He asked further, displeased that he was informed after your decision.
Nodding in response to Mingyu's question, you looked down at your food, feeling the weight of his disapproval. "I leave in exactly a week since the semester ended today."
After placing your fork down on the counter, you sought to convey reassurance. “Mingyu, I won't even be gone for that long. It's just three months..." You trail after your word, realizing that wasn't changing Mingyu's attitude towards the situation.
Meeting Mingyu's gaze, you attempted to gauge his reaction before speaking. "Aren't you happy for me?"
With a sigh, Mingyu looked down at his food, his silence speaking volumes. "I just expected you to tell me before you committed to this decision." Mingyu picked up his fork and started eating his food quietly while you looked at him.
You knew the real reason why you didn't tell Mingyu was because he was the one thing keeping you from leaving. Any of his words asking you to stay would immediately sway you to stay, which was not healthy as you knew it was a one-sided love.
Quietly observing Mingyu as he ate, you grappled with the tension in the air. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but it's decided, I'll just be back before you know it." You try to smile as you continue eating, hoping to make your best friend lighten up. You could almost feel the weight of Mingyu's disappointment settling like a thick fog in the air, casting a somber mood over your otherwise familiar dinner routine.
As you adjusted the Facetime, the soft light of your hotel room cast a warm glow, creating a cozy ambiance despite the distance from home.
"Hey, how have you been?"
Shifting your laptop's position, you ensured Mingyu had a clear view of your hotel room through the Facetime call. Even with your short stay, you personalized the hotel room to feel more like your apartment.
"I'm fine..." Mingyu answered while he was in a dark setting. You assumed he was in his room as he picked up your call. You were retouching your hair for the last time before going out to the bar.
"Did I wake you up?" You curiously peeked your head at him before resuming your actions. The time difference between London and South Korea was eight hours, meaning it was only 6PM for you, while it was 2AM back home.
Mingyu just stared at you, his face consuming the entirety of your screen. "No, I was awake. Are you going out?"
"Yeah, the friends I've made at my workplace want to celebrate since we finished our internship."
You saw Mingyu's face frown with your peripheral vision, "Don't give me that face, Mingyu. Why are you always sad when I call you?"
Mingyu turns over to lean on his side, the sound of his sheets moving evident. "I'm not sad," Mingyu argues back, trying to move his phone upwards so you won't see his pout.
"Mingyu, I'm your best friend, I could tell when you're sad." Mingyu rolled his eyes, but you could see him smile right after because he adjusted his phone to show his entire face.
"I can't believe you're coming back soon." You stood up from your chair, showing Mingyu how you looked before your night out.
"Do you miss me that much?" You teased, checking your mirror one more time.
"No, I'm just happy to have someone I can annoy again." You rolled your eyes playfully before taking your laptop over to where your shoes were, setting the device down and putting on your heels.
"Also, everyone told me you don't go out anymore?"
You had kept in contact with all your friends, hearing the same "How's London?", "Can't wait for you to come back!", and the constant "Tell Mingyu to go out with us!" from your friends.
When you called Vernon last week, he confirmed that Mingyu had been hitting the gym but remaining at home when the boys went out, which was quite strange for someone who used to go out every weekend before you left.
Today, Seungkwan called you complaining about Mingyu rejecting, once again, the invite to go out, whining to you as if you knew the reason behind your best friend's change.
"I just didn't feel like going out recently." You shook your head at Mingyu while strapping your heels, "Our friends miss going out with you."
"I miss you."
You snapped your head at Mingyu, "What did you say? I didn't hear you." You rush back over to your laptop after putting on your heels.
"I said, I'll go out tomorrow since it's Jun’s birthday weekend."
You smile, going towards your laptop. "Oh, okay, now go to sleep, Mingyu. I'm going to leave my hotel now."
"Okay, remember to call me tomorrow."
It was the next morning and you had woken up after a fun night with your London friends. You didn't drink a lot because you weren't drinking with Mingyu. Back at home, he would take care of you after a night out, but without him, you made sure to watch how much you drank.
Scrolling through your phone, you saw everyone wishing Jun a happy birthday, reminding you that it was almost time for your friends to go out back in Korea.
"Hey, Jun! Happy birthday!" Jun must have already experienced his surprise birthday party, one that Soonyoung told you he was planning. "I hope you've had a great day so far."
Jun flips his camera to show you his perspective of his living room, where your friends chatting while eating slices of cake.
"It would be better if you were here to celebrate with us!" Jun took a sip from his drink.
"Where's the others?" You asked, noticing only half the group was at his apartment.
Jun started walking, "They're already at the club, we're taking three different Ubers to get there."
He stopped to hand his phone to others. Wonwoo and Seungcheol's eyes widened looking at Jun’s phone, "Hey! How's London?"
You chuckled at Wonwoo, "It's fun. I might grow a British accent by the time I'm back." You joked, only for Chan to take the phone.
"Hey, give me my phone back Chan!" Jun protested while Chan seemed to be running away, as the phone screen shook.
Chan showed Seokmin’s face, who was taking a bite of his cake before he came.
"Look who it is," Chan set Jun’s phone down on the counter, allowing you to see the two boys. The loud talking behind them showed that they must be at Jun's house before going to the bar later.
"We all miss you!" Seokmin started, setting his plate down. "But Mingyu misses you most."
You simply laughed at his statement, "I call him every day, it's okay."
Chan shook his head at your obliviousness, "No, you don't understand. That man has not smiled once since you've gone abroad."
You were about to ask more until both their heads moved to the sound of Wonwoo calling their names.
"Oh, we have to go, our Uber is here." You decide to let it go, bidding them goodbye and wishing them a fun night out.
It had been exactly two hours since you ended the call with the boys. You stood in front of your suitcase, packing up your clothes and getting ready to leave for the airport.
You had wanted to surprise everyone by returning home early, only telling Vernon and buying a ticket for a flight that was two days earlier than your presumed return.
However, the phone call you had with Jeonghan yesterday, before calling Mingyu, kept lingering in your mind.
"Hey, I haven't talked to you in so long! How have you-"
"Listen, I am saying this because I love you both, but Mingyu is hurting." Your eyes almost flew out of the sockets, "Mingyu is what? Is he okay? How bad is he injured?"
If this call was on Facetime, you would have seen Jeonghan roll his eyes at your misunderstanding. "No, I meant he's hurting emotionally."
You calmed down a bit but still remained confused.
"What do you mean? He didn't tell me he's hurting?"
Jeonghan sighed on the other end of the phone. He knew you were clueless and didn't want to have this conversation over the phone, but it was becoming more urgent the longer you stayed away.
"He loves you. He hasn't been himself since you left for London. I know it isn't my place to tell you this, but he's lying when he says he's fine when we can all tell he misses you deeply."
You couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's words. "My best friend misses me that much? Aw, I miss Mingyu and you all too. Don't worry though, I'll be back soon!"
Now Jeonghan almost broke his phone at you steering this conversation away from what he meant to say. "Did you not hear me correctly? Mingyu loves you!"
"Yeah, as a friend, Jeonghan. Anyway, I'm about to enter my workplace now so I have to go. I'll talk to you soon?"
Jeonghan sighed, his best efforts coming to a halt.
"Okay, I'll talk to you soon."
He couldn't possibly mean that Mingyu loved you in a nonplatonic way, right? You shrug off the thought while zipping up your suitcase, ready to rest for the remaining time in your hotel room before your night flight.
You lounged on your couch, the soft cushions enveloping you as you prepared to rest before your night flight, before your phone rang.
It was a Facetime from Mingyu.
"Hey Mingyu!"
Mingyu's gaze bore into the screen, the lively backdrop of the crowded club for Jun’s birthday party indicating his current location.
Mingyu's face was red, probably due to the alcohol, and his hair was messed up.
"How are you?"
"I'm tired of lying," Mingyu slurred, walking over to his booth so he could take a seat. He was obviously drunk, and you were grateful that your friends designate sober friends before a night out.
"Lying?" You sat up from the couch, confused at what Mingyu was saying.
"I'm tired of telling you that I'm fine or that I don't miss you—because in reality, I do."
Mingyu took a sip of the beer next to him, gulping it down for some liquid courage.
"Can't you see that I love you?" He yelled through his phone, hoping the volume would put some sense through your obliviousness. You couldn't believe your eyes as you saw some tears streaking down his cheeks.
"What? Mingyu, are you crying-"
You saw Mingyu's phone being taken away. It was Jeonghan's face you now saw through the screen. He looked at you with sad eyes, having heard Mingyu's confession just seconds before.
"Hey, Mingyu's really drunk, so talk to him tomorrow when he sobers up. I know you're coming back tomorrow, Vernon can't keep secrets."
Your mind raced, but you managed to nod in agreement. "Could you make sure he gets home safely?"
"Yeah, I think we're all leaving now. I'll talk to you soon."
You nodded and ended the call. You did not get some sleep before the airport and throughout the flight home.
A knock on his front door woke Mingyu up.
Mingyu's apartment was dimly lit, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains to cast soft patterns on the floor. Mingyu walked to his door to open it for the person persistently knocking.
He was feeling hungover, trying to recollect the night before. He recalls Jihoon offering him drinks, dancing with Minghao and Joshua, then calling you-
"Hi." Mingyu stood shocked at your presence, just remembering his drunken confession to you.
"Hey? Wait, how are you here?" Mingyu's mind was spinning, first, he confessed to his best friend while he was drunk, and now said best friend was back in Korea earlier than expected.
You smiled at his bewildered expression while he gestured for you to come inside his house.
"I just got back from the airport. I was going to surprise everyone by coming back today." You dragged your suitcase behind you and walked inside Mingyu's apartment, before turning to face him, "And I wanted to talk to you about last night."
Mingyu covered his face with his hands, closing his front door, "Listen, what I said last night-"
"I love you too."
Mingyu snapped his face to you, complete shock written all over his face.
"What? Say that again." You laughed at his reaction, stepping towards him.
"I said, Kim Mingyu, I love you too. And I'm glad you told me first because I was afraid to tell you."
Mingyu pulled you into a hug.
"I missed you so much."
You pulled away from the hug briefly, "You know, you cried last night! I have never seen you cry before!”
Mingyu whined, holding your hand, "Well, I guess I love my girl that much."
You smiled cheekily at his comment, "Yours, huh?" Mingyu just led you to his kitchen with a smile.
“Always, now will you out me out of my misery and be my girlfriend?”
You peck Mingyu on the lips, grinning widely, “Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”
Mingyu reciprocated your affection, lacing your hands together, “Come on, let's do our Thursday tradition as breakfast since I'm hungry."
Your laughter filled the room as you followed him, "Okay, boyfriend."
#seventeen#svt#kim mingyu#mingyu#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen imagine#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen oneshots#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#mingyu fanfiction#mingyu imagine#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#mingyu oneshots#mingyu x reader#mingyu fluff#mingyu angst#svt fanfiction#svt x reader
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome to Wonderland
.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: eren yeager x pregnant!reader
.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: soon-to-be-parents embark on a joyous adventure, preparing for the arrival of their little one in a quest to find the perfect stroller.
.ೃ࿔*:･cw: none. fluff. domestic.
.ೃ࿔*:･authors note: inspired by baby mine from @tojigasm. im in a 'baby' mood and wanted to write something other than football. you can probably tell that I haven't watched the show but honestly, I've kind of based eren on his portrayals by other writers on this app and what I feel he would say and act like if he was a modern character. truthfully i just need to watch the show, but I'm honestly not good at keeping up with shows in general.
Onesies. Diapers. Bottles. Pacifiers. Cribs. Toys.
This was the world of babies.
Eren had never felt so intimidated— standing by the store doors, a trolley glued to his front as he gawked at the avalanche of ‘everything baby’ in front of him. The signs above the aisles, all printed with words that seemed important, taunted him with ridiculing laughter and bizarre speeches filled with phoney concern.
Hesitantly, Eren veered around and then glanced at (name). He swallowed deeply before speaking between shallow breaths. “Where do we start?”
(name) was quiet for a few moments as her eyes aimlessly scanned the store floor. She let out a breath and then paused, blinking, before glancing down at her phone. “Uh,”
She padded her thumbs across her screen and scrolled through her baby registry.
“Strollers,” (name) managed to breathe out. She nodded to herself, assured by her choice and peered up at Eren, nodding once again. “Yeah, I think we should look at strollers first.”
“Strollers…” Eren muttered back slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “…that's good.”
The metallic clatter and squeak of the trolley and its battered wheels followed Eren and (name) as they pushed the cart towards the “strollers & travel systems” section.
The trolley squeaked to a halt when (name) stopped. She blinked, rubbing her lips together and slowly stepped away from Eren.
“This is nice.” She spoke softly. She raised her hands, her curious fingers wriggling in the air, and fiddled with the straps and handle of the matte black stroller. From the platform where it was perched, she pushed it back and forth, whirling the stroller from side to side. “It moves nicely too.”
“This one looks good too.” Pivoting on the heels of her feet, (name) carefully stroked the handle of another. It was grey, except for its black frame, and carried a sizable basket beneath it unlike the other.
Eren hummed in response to (name) and shifted away from the trolley. He inclined forward and fiddled with the hood of the stroller, pushing it back and dragging it forward. He smoothed his hands across its aluminium frame and picked at the price tag, strapped at the handle. “Not bad, you like it?”
(name) shrugged. “It’s nice, but I think we should look around first before we decide on anything first.”
The trolley’s shaky rattle continued as (name) and Eren strolled through rows and rows of strollers in various colours, sizes and shapes.
The traditional strollers, with large wheels and adjustable handles, had quickly gained (name’s) favour, whilst the lightweight umbrella strollers, which were perfect for prompt trips around the town, perked Eren’s eye. The jogging strollers failed to reel both Eren and (name) in, and though their suspension and manoeuvrability brought ease and comfort, the couple could envision themselves going for light jogs across their neighbourhood with their little one in tow. It wasn’t their style.
“Is there anything here you like?” After a while of searching, Eren and (name) had broken off their stroll and huddled themselves into a corner and fueled themselves with the breakfast bars (name) had stashed inside her purse.
"No," Eren shook his head, swallowing, his face twisted.
“Well,” (name) began. “If we can’t decide on anything now, I think we should move onto bassinets–”
“What?” A baffled expression came to (name’s) face as she watched Eren shoot off directly to a larger display of strollers.
With a smile on his lips and sparkling eyes, he bent down to retrieve a car seat from the queue of strollers. He waved, beckoning (name) over and beamed down at the contraption below.
Gripping the metal ledge of the trolley, (name) towed it behind her as she walked.
She stopped, standing a few feet away and with an inquisitive brow, glanced down at Eren.
“Look.” Hanging his figure over the car seat, Eren turned his back to (name). He lowered his arms, positioning his hands on either side of the seat, its front and its back. He gripped the handle with one hand and tucked his other into the safety lock. He pressed the lock, heaving it upwards as its legs, tucked beneath, extended outwards. Setting it down on the floor, Eren carefully eased the handle from above the black hood and towed it above the seat. A quiet snap could be heard as he adjusted the handle to his hip with a single push of a button.
“Wow.” (name) gaped, her eyes wide and slowly circled the stroller.
“Cool, ain't it?” Eren smiled proudly. He pushed the stroller back and forth, wheeling it across the aisle in jagged lines. “‘Been looking at this online.”
“And it's good for travelling,” he boasted. “For when we fly. Oh, and it's light….it moves so nice….”
Resting her hand on the swell of her belly, (name) bent down and moved her hands across the seat, running her fingers against its smooth fabric. “But what happens when the baby gets too big and grows out of this?”
“Then…I…guess we buy two strollers?” Eren blurted out slowly.
“Babe… I don’t know.” Reclining back to height, (name) propped her hand on her hip and furrowed her brows together. She pulled her lips down into a frown and shook her head unhappily.
Eren could feel his heart plunge into the pits of his stomach as (name) scowled. He was convinced that the stroller parked before him was it. And now, as he stared at his wife, he wasn’t too sure she felt the same.
“Listen, baby, it's a great car seat and stroller,” he began. “C’mon, it's convenient and easy to use, we get this and it’ll make our lives so much easier when the baby comes.”
“Trust me, baby, I’ve done my research. I’ve watched videos and read reviews. This is the one.”
(name) thought a moment, gnawing at her bottom lip. After inspecting the stroller-car seat ensemble, she took Eren’s place at the wheel and rolled it across the aisle, and then back to him.
She stopped in front of him, parking the stroller a few inches from his feet and sighed. She blinked and blinked and then blinked again, and sighed, tracing her hand across its hood.
“Alright,” She said. “We’ll get it.”
Eren couldn’t help but cheer, thrusting his fists in the air before launching onto his wife. He wrapped his arms around (name), pulling her into his chest, her swollen belly pressed against his middle, and peppered kisses across her head, his nose bristling against her hair. “Yes!”
“Babe— Eren let go, you’re pulling on my hair.” Wriggling out from Eren’s grasp, (name) huffed, her eyebrows furrowed together and quickly patted away at her hair.
After calling for assistance, Eren, then armed with newfound instructions, made his way down the aisles to the shelf containing another replica of the stroller, with (name) in tow. Below it were two rows of boxes.
Eren reached out, bending his knees, wrapped his arms around the box and lifted it into the air. With careful feet, he hauled the box toward their trolley and plopped it into the basket.
“There.” He huffed. He wiped his hands and stared at the box, a twinkle glinted in his eyes, grinning from ear to ear as (name) looked on from the sidelines.
She approached Eren, a hand to the trolley, the other to her stomach, and studied him. In awe at the way, his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and his cheeks carried a gentle, rosy tint when he was excited. His joy was palpable, radiating out from him like a comforting blanket.
As she gazed at him, (name) felt a deep sense of gratitude. Most women weren’t as lucky as she was, having a man so involved, so excited it’s damn near infuriating. But she cherished his joy, his nervousness, his wonder. He was new to this world, this world of babies, as was she, and whilst at times it was overwhelming, it was beautiful and intriguing to come to learn and to love the little human cocooned inside her belly.
And as Eren looked up and caught her eye, (name) returned his smile with one of her own. In a silent exchange, they basked in each other’s warmth, arm in arm, sharing each other’s bliss.
#black!reader#eren yeager x black reader#eren x black reader#eren x reader#eren jeager x reader#eren yeager x reader#aot x black reader#aot imagine#aot x reader#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan x black reader#attack on titan imagine
68 notes
·
View notes
Note
AITA for sending a vaguely passive aggressive card?
i (25M) bought a card that says "i will always value our friendship" and inside i handwrote "you dont get to take this decision back, it is unfair to me too. i wish you the best." and gave it to my ex (27F) the day after she cut me off.
we met 2 years ago when we started working at the same job. we instantly hit it off and became close friends, and pretty soon after mutually crushing on each other.
however i had JUST left a super toxic relationship literally the month before and was in no way ready for a new relationship, and i made this clear to her. despite this she still asked to start dating almost every month for the better half of a year. i finally gave in and said yes, but she has to be super ptient as i still dont really feel ready for a relationship and am not over my ex, and havent even gone back to therapy yet to process the trauma of said previous relationship. she said she doesnt mind and even wants to help me process it herself. (key note: she is in college to become a trauma-specialized therapist.) i initially refused but upon her repetitive insistance gave in and let her give me "therapy talks" and whatnot. i dont exactly think i needed traditional talk therapy bc it hasnt benefitted me in the past and instead mostly benefit from EMDR and hypnosis. thats neither here nor there i guess lol.
fast forward a couple months and her car breaks down. she doesnt have any local friends or family so i ended up being her main ride to and from our job even though it was super inconvenient for me. we live in opposite directions on our job, each of us ~30 min drive away from work. so i would have to drive 45 min to her apartment to pick her up, then drive 30 min to work. after work i drive the 30 min back to her apartment, then the 45 min home. for unrelated reasons i end up leaving our mutual job and get a different job, closer to her apartment. ...but i am still her only ride. so now i am driving 45 min to her place, 30 min to HER job, 30 min BACK to her town where i work. now i drive 30 min to pick her up from work, 30 min to drop her off, and 45 min home. (that over three and a half hours of driving a day. she does not contribute to gas money.)
i am admittedly probably the asshole for this but i grow a little resentful of her lack of contribution and her expectation of me to be her ride despite the fact that she does not save money to fix her car or get a new one (she has a shopping addiction and spends a lot of money on knick knacks at antique/thrift stores). so we hardly spend time as a couple since i am always exhausted from work and driving her around. i tell her i dont Want to driver her everywhere and its putting a lot of tension and strain on the relationship bc of it and she is kind of like "well what am i supposed to do, lose my job and get evicted?" and so out of guilt i continue to be her ride.
she decided that me not spending enough time with her outside of driving is unfair and she wants to end the relationship. i agree this is for the best but because we used to be such good friends before, i want to try to be friends still. she agrees. i lay down a hard boundary now though: i will no longer be her ride. she does in fact lose her job and gets evicted from her apartment. by this point she has become friends with one of our old coworkers and ends up moving in to their house with their family, i end up helping her move.
we try to be friends, but she never texts first or asks to hang out or invites me anywhere, and on the rare occassion she agrees to my hangouts, shes extremely snappy and passive aggressive with me and is quick to remind me of what an "absent" boyfriend i was. i get fed up with this after a couple months and tell her i cant be friends with her is shes going to be so mean to me all the time, even if i WAS a bad boyfriend the relationship is over now and it isnt fair to keep holding it over my head. she agrees to try and be nicer to me. we slowly start becoming really good friends again and eventually start regularly hanging out again for a couple months.
my dad fucking dies. i take a month off work and have weekly grief counselling appointments. i kind of ghost everybody i know, not just including my ex/friend, but also my best friend, my cousin, and even my step sister. after a couple months back to work (sleep, go to work, come home, sleep. i didnt do Anything. i barely ate.) i finally start to get out of my depressive funk. i start reaching out to people again. most are super understanding and some are kinda weird about it. when i reach out to my ex and say i finally am starting to feel like a person again and we should hang out, she tells me that i broke her heart again by ignoring her and that i dont get a third chance, and shes cutting me off. she requests i drop off anything i still have of hers (she had some clothes and other stuff at my house) and so i decide to, kind of half genuinely and kind of half sarcastically, buy a "friendship" card.
...so, am i the asshole for buying a card that says "i will always value our friendship" and writing "you dont get to take this decision back, it is unfair to me too. i wish you the best." on the inside, and giving it to my ex the day after she cut me off?
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fang Fest 2024
EDIT: Apologies! The first image I made for this had the date wrong. it's fixed now, so please reblog this version. Thank you!
Hello Tumblr Vamily! first of all, thank you to those who participated in the Fang Fest poll(s) I posted. I read all your tags and comments and I decided to go ahead with this year's Vampire the Masquerade Fang Fest!
This year’s theme is “Tarot.” These prompts are intended to inspire fanart, fanfic, and other pieces of fanwork. Anything you wish to create and share with the vamily is very greatly appreciated!
The Fang Fest will run from June 1 - 22, 2024.
Each day, starting with The Fool on June 1 and finishing with The World on June 22, post whatever fan work you've made inspired by the Tarot card prompt (eg. art, fic, gifs, poetry, music playlists, mood boards, whatever). Please include the hashtag #vtmfangfest24 so they can all be collected here. I know there are a lot of prompts this year compared to past years, and if you can't think of anything for a particular prompt, or are otherwise unable to finish, it's perfectly fine to skip it.
Those who are not taking part in making fan work are encouraged to like, comment on, give kudos, and share their favourites! Collaboration is also encouraged, so reach out to your fellow Kindred and see what you can come up with!
Another list of the prompts and their general meanings will be available under the cut. See y'all in June!
The Fool
Innocence, spontaneity, free spirits, new beginnings, (reversed) recklessness, taking foolish risks, being held back.
The Magician
Being resourceful, inspiration, manifesting plans, (reversed) poor planning, manipulation.
The High Priestess
Intuition, divine femininity, sacred knowledge, (reversed) keeping secrets, withdrawing, being silent when your voice should be heard.
The Empress
Femininity, beauty, abundance, (reversed) over-reliance on others, suffering creative block.
The Emperor
Authority, father figures, structure, (reversed) domination, excessive control, lack of discipline.
The Hierophant
Spiritual wisdom and beliefs, traditions, established institutions, (reversed) freedom and challenging the status quo.
The Lovers
Love, harmony, relationships (romantic or otherwise, but usually romantic), your values aligning with others', (reversed) disharmony, arguments, hatred.
The Chariot
Taking action, success, willpower, being in control, (reversed) lack of direction, opposition.
Strength
Courage, compassion, persuasion, (reversed) self-doubt, low energy.
The Hermit
Soul-searching, introspection, being alone in a positive way, (reversed) unwanted isolation, withdrawing, loneliness.
Wheel of Fortune
Karma, good luck, destiny, a turning point in your life, (reversed) bad luck, resistance to change, cycles breaking.
Justice
Fairness, truth, cause and effect, (reversed) unfairness, not taking accountability, dishonesty.
The Hanged Man
Surrendering, letting go, considering new perspectives, (reversed) stalling, delays, indecision.
Death
Endings, unstoppable change, transformation, (reversed) resistance to change, unwanted purging.
Temperance
Balance, moderation, patience, (reversed) imbalance, excess, needing self-care.
The Devil
Addiction, who you are when no-one is watching, sexuality, (reversed) releasing limiting beliefs, exploring your dark side safely.
The Tower
Sudden change, chaos, upheaval, (reversed) personal transformation, averting disaster.
The Star
Hope, faith, purpose, renewal, (reversed) despair, losing faith, disconnection.
The Moon
Illusions, anxiety, intuition, (reversed) letting go of fears and repressed emotions, inner confusion.
The Sun
Positivity, fun, warmth, success, (reversed) disappointment, toxic positivity, overly optimistic.
Judgement
Rebirth, retribution, (reversed) self-doubts, ignoring opportunities.
The World
Completion, accomplishments, travel, (reversed) short-cuts, delays, not yet finding closure.
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Red Lights Red Flags
Chapter 8 - Secrets & Betrayal
<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->
☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, implied non-con (two very brief sentences), emotional hurt/little comfort, physical violence, degradation, angst
☆ Word Count: 3.6k
As warmer weather takes hold and the trees begin to flower, it’s a sure sign that spring is on the horizon. Not a cloud in the sky dares to block out the sun, and all the mounds of snow are but a distant memory. However. in its wake, the ground is left exceedingly parched, with no telling of rain to cleanse its thirst.
With these conditions, many of the courtesans have taken to spend their daylight hours enjoying the light out on porches or in the courtyard of the brothel. Shion had made plans with you ahead of time to enjoy some tea with her, alongside a few others close to her.
You enter the courtyard, making your way towards the gazebo with a tray in hand, only to see that the guests of honor or none other than two other high-ranking flowers ─ Murasaki and Tsubaki.
The latter perks up upon your arrival, cheerfully pressing her palms together. “You must be Marigold,” she greets with a rich, sultry voice, “Come, sit with us, my dear.”
You dip your head in a slight bow, setting the tray down and distributing ceramic cups evenly filled with fresh tea first. In the presence of Shion alone, you feel comfortable being yourself without all the extra mannerisms expected of you. But with this being your first formal meeting with the reigning courtesans, you decide it best to appear proper and refined.
The last thing you want is another ordeal about respect or remembering your place like Botan had beaten into you.
The three flowers carry the weight of the conversation while you opt to sit in silence, enjoying this chance to be in their presence. Contrary to the rivalries you’ve witnessed in your working career, these women act as though they’re friends ─ sisters even.
There’s no tension or complaints, simply humor and mundane conversations. At least, until Tsubaki narrows in on a topic that unravels that momentary peace.
“Have you heard the news yet?” She asks, her question posed towards the aster.
Shion’s response comes with a smile laced in underlying sorrow, “I have, it’s quite a shame.” There’s a brief pause as she sips on her tea. You glance up to them with a raised brow, unsure what they’re referring to. “I’ll miss days like these after you’re gone.”
“As will I,” Murasaki speaks with a somber tone, but her lips form a smile nearly betraying those feelings. “I am looking forward though to my new life.”
“Where are you going?” you ask, unable to sustain your curiosity any further.
“I’m to be sold to one of my top clients ─ an official from the Kamo Clan,” she tells you, and it makes perfect sense now to you.
Buying out courtesans from their duties is a common tradition, but the price ranges based on the status they hold. For someone to have the funds needed to acquire the wisteria herself, they would have to belong to one of the founding clans.
The thought of it forms a new question in your mind, one that’s been bugging you for quite some time.
What about your debt?
You were among the dozens sent to the Gojo estate ─ the payments for those services would have to be a large chip off the debt you hold. How much more could you possibly owe at this point?
“Do you believe your love will do the same for you soon?” Tsubaki asks of you.
Your eyes widen at the insinuation that she knows your secret. You look to Shion for an answer, but her eyes remain closed with a knowing smile as she takes another sip.
“Don’t look surprised, Shion’s told me all about your routine escapades,” she snickers teasingly so, “Quite the little scandal, but one I would never feel good about spoiling so don’t fret, my dear.”
You sigh, relieved from her words. “I can’t imagine he needs to,” you remark. “Once my debt is paid off, I’ll be leaving of my own accord.”
There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere, the air stilling as each of the three exchange unspoken words with one another.
“Sweetheart, I’m not sure if I should be the one telling you this but…” Tsubaki’s eyes flicker to Shion, who nods with approval. “…you should know that there is no walking out of here without a price.”
Huh? That can’t be right?
“What about my debt? What’s the point of it then?” Panic settles in over your features, making you feel as though everything you’ve been told has been all one big lie confessed to you now for the first time.
“Control,” Shion says. “Some come to the pleasure district on their own accord, while others are born into it.” She looks down at her cup, eyes coating with a thin layer of gloss. “Then there are those like you ─ a victim of circumstance. What you call your ‘debt’ is merely the price for your life that Hanami has already paid up for.”
“H-how am I supposed to leave then? To be free?” Your voice cracks between words. “Toji has a bounty on his head, he can’t just walk in here with a pouch of gold and leave with me!” Tears spill from your eyes despite your efforts to remain poised.
“Shh, little one,” Shion coos, grasping your hand between hers, rubbing smooth shapes over the top. “Hope is not yet lost for you, do not give up.”
You don’t, or rather can’t answer right away as you need a minute to calm down. “What can I even do?” you whisper.
“For now, nothing. The answer will reveal itself to you in time,” she answers, cryptic as ever, but it’s not good enough for you ─ no, not this time. You’re tired of secrets and want a straight answer.
“Are there any other ways to leave besides being bought?”
“Tainting your value,” Tsubaki informs, earning a scolding glare from the aster.
Shion turns back to you, sighing softly, “As Tsubaki says, that is an option, but not one I recommend. I tried it once, but it made no difference in the end except for losing a piece of myself in the process.”
The hurt in her voice tempers your anger. “May I ask what happened?”
The motions of her thumb cease, but in turn, her grip tightens around you. “I met a man I truly loved around the time I first arrived here, much like yourself. My family had sold me to pay off their debt, and I sought solace in the only one who understood me under the moonlight.”
She pauses, a ghost of a smile appearing as she recalls the memory through her mirrored form in her teacup.
“Hanami had her reasons for wanting to maintain my purity, but I desired an escape above all else. When the day came that my moon-cycle disappeared, I was overjoyed to finally taint that vision of hers.”
Her expression drops into one filled with sorrow and residual spite. Tsubaki and Murasaki keep their eyes on Shion throughout it all, supporting her in silence as they too are reliving this moment in time.
“Hanami was mad, unimaginably so, but I could tell from her wicked eyes that she had something new in mind. Right then and there, I knew that if I were to have a daughter, she would live a fate worse than mine. She would’ve been born and raised, in service to this brothel until the day she dies as Hanami’s perfect gem, carefully crafted as such by her own hands.”
You grimace at this revelation, knowing all too well that she’s right. Hanami at her core is a twisted curse, a cruel woman who cares nothing for others. With how often Shion treats you like her own daughter, you finally understand why after this.
She is a mother, or at least was.
“I was kept in a cage for a while after, but not even Hanami could hope to break my spirits. That would become my duty, the night my daughter took her first breath of life, I had to let go.”
She spares a thoughtful look to Tsubaki who you conclude must have been at her side when it all occurred. As one of the oldest courtesans in this brothel alone, she must have all sorts of history to tell.
“I hope when my darling little Mei grows up, she’ll understand why I couldn’t be there for her all this time.” Shion concludes her tale with a one sole teardrop falling from her eye onto the surface of her tea. A wave ripples through, soon settling back to an eerie calm.
You take a few moments before responding, “I am so sorry, Shion. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must have felt.”
“I truly hope you never know the pain of losing one of your own, my little Marigold.”
“That crone never has forgiven you for that, has she?” Tsubaki snorts. “Even with the stack she’s getting from Kamo, I’m betting she’ll be out for blood soon enough.”
“Relief is what she should feel for not having me around with my technique to worry about,” Murasaki retorts with an amused face, but her words confuse you.
Technique?
“My birth family may have thought of me as a stain for it, but Noritoshi shows much more delicacy on the matter. I’m certain we’ll have a true, loving family with each other.”
“What do you mean by techni–“
“Excuse me,” someone interrupts. You and the three turn to a courtesan standing just outside the gazebo. “My apologies, but Hanami is requesting your presence,” the woman says, looking directly to you.
Shion releases your hand, almost begrudgingly so with cautious intent. Whatever the case, you can’t refuse an audience with the proprietor, so, you stand and bid farewell to the flowers.
The courtesan who came for you urges you to follow her, but along the way you realize she isn’t leading you to Hanami’s Rose Room. In fact, they’re taking you the complete opposite way, down a familiar stretch of hallways only to stop in front of a set of doors you hoped never to have to enter through again.
The Peony Room.
You now recognize the woman at your side to be one of Botan’s own, reality dawning on you that whatever is inside cannot be good. They slide the door open before you can react, all while your heart starts to beat a mile a minute, threatening to escape the confines of your chest if this keeps up.
The group inside only makes it worse. Not only are Botan and Hanami present, but in the center is a man you know to be one of the Zenin Clan’s own ─ Jinichi Zenin.
It’s instantaneous the way fear takes hold of your body, draining you of color, leaving you feeling cold and clammy. His piercing gaze alone is enough to have every hair on your body standing, your mind begging you to run while you still can.
You wouldn’t get far anyways.
“Sit. Now,” Hanami decrees, with a low growl that forces you right to your knees. “Care to explain what you’ve been hiding?”
You swallow thickly, looking down at your trembling hands folded over one another on the tatami. “W-what do you mea–“
“Don’t play stupid,” Botan scoffs. “We know all about the secret you’ve been keeping.”
Your eyes widen.
“Did you honestly believe you could hide it while under my roof?” Hanami clicks her tongue, her patience thinning. “I certainly don’t let you live here for free out of the kindness of my heart.” Her words are anything but kind, instead dripping with animosity.
Jinichi raises his hand, motioning for their silence. “Where is my brother?” he then inquires, his voice noticeably calmer than the two women.
“I-I don’t know,” you reply, meek as ever from the weight of his gaze.
“Did no one ever teach you respect? You should know better than to lie to me.” Jinichi’s eyes narrow with malice as he looks down on you. “Now I’ll ask again. Where is Toji,” he repeats in a commanding tone, rich in hostility.
His calmness was but an act to fool you, and it failed. Now he can resort to his other means.
“I don’t know!” You lift your face to meet his, tears coating your cheeks. “He doesn’t tell me where he goes!” You tell him the truth, only because it can’t betray Toji. You really don’tknow where he is.
“You lying bitch!” Botan spits with unrepressed fury. “What is it that you think will happen? Do you honestly believe he’s going to come ‘rescue’ poor little you if you protect him? Don’t you get that he’s just using you for his pleasure and nothing more?”
“He’s not!” you argue, baring your fangs at her with fire in your eyes.
That’s not who Toji is.
“Don’t you talk back to me! Did you not learn your lesson after–“
“Enough!” Jinichi bellows, causing you both to flinch.
He exhales heavily after a moment. “Come here,” he orders.
You don’t move, not yet at least as you stare up to him with a fearful look. Obeying his command will only send you further into the demon’s maw.
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
You swallow again, your throat devoid of any moisture that’s been sapped. The urge to run intensifies again as you shuffle closer, even if it’s a futile effort. You stop, but it isn’t enough yet for his liking, so he urges you even closer with a two-finger motion until you’re within arm’s reach.
Slap!
The force sends your face down against the tatami with an audible thud that sends your head spinning. He then grabs a chunk of your hair, lifting you painfully back up while at the same time drawing his face closer. You cry out in pain, but he and everyone else in the room ignores your plead for mercy.
“We’ll get the information we need from you one way or another,” he warns, releasing you from his hold only to send you flying backwards with a sharp kick to your stomach area, knocking the wind straight out of your lungs.
Your screams are silenced from whatever bones just snapped in your body. You lay there on the ground, clutching yourself, feeling a pain worse than anything you’ve felt before in your life.
Botan’s laugh echoes throughout the room like that of a hyena, cackling away at your misery. “Oh, how I’m going to enjoy this,” she says with a sadistic intent.
As you lay nearly lifeless atop the frigid, stone tile, you stare up through the bars of your window at the only thing you have to keep you company ─ the moon. Even then, she’s barely visible, hidden away behind a curtain of black. It’s like the moon or the stars can’t bear to see you in your current state.
Jinichi had dragged you through the halls and passed other courtesans in a cruel display of power. You were the perfect opportunity to make a point of what happens to those who cross the leadership of their country, or more specifically, the Zenin Clan.
From Hanami’s request, you were thrown into one of the many basement rooms that hold more of a resemblance to a prison cell than anything. The walls and floor are made of stone, with iron bars to contain those deemed defilers. This must be where Shion was once held during the many months of her pregnancy.
Another cage within a cage… how ironic.
Jinichi abused you for some time after, demanding information you don’t even have for his own selfish desire to end Toji’s life. He didn’t stop when you were beaten and bruised, nor when your body gave out as black spots filled your vision until nothing remained.
Hanami was there when you first woke up after, feeling especially sore and dirty ─ no doubt used for acts you weren’t even fully aware were happening as you were unconscious. But that wasn’t the end of your torture.
“I had hopes you’d grown into a functional tool, but it appears you need to be reshaped,” Hanami muses, staring down at you with a mixture of anger and disappointment. “Don’t get yourself caught up in feelings, you’re nothing more than a hole to be filled. Remember that.”
It hurt, unimaginably so, even making you forget about the pain of your broken ribs for a short time. None of it however could possibly compare to the words Botan spoke in passing only a few days after.
That day, she had chosen to be the one to bring you your meal ─ a tray with some scraps and rotting fruit, topped off with some of her fresh spit as seasoning. She held it just out of reach from you, as far as the chain around your ankle would allow you to move from the wall.
“You want to know how I found out about your little secret?” she laughs in a wicked tune. “You have daddy dearest to thank for that one,” Botan reveals, tearing a piece from your heart.
“After you took Toji from me, I decided to take something from you…” She sneers, mocking your distressed expression. “It wasn’t hard since he owes his debt to me, but I’m glad I managed to convince that old hag to let him back in here for my plan.”
The contents of the tray spill out across the dirty floor as Botan thrusts it towards you, taking her leave with a trail of shrill laughter in her wake. You pay no mind to the state of the food ─ too hungry to care, too tired to fight.
This is your fate.
If you had any tears left to spare, you might break down further into this abyss. In the end, your father betrayed you again, only this time by playing with your feelings for his advantage.
What a fool you were to believe he was changing, not when the only person he ever truly cared about is dead and gone. Why else would he have been absent from so much of your life?
This is all his fault.
But loving him was your fault for thinking the blood you share made it any different.
Curse him.
It wasn’t only moments from your life; it was your whole family’s as well. Perhaps that’s why Akane couldn’t bear to be born, or why your mother fell ill in the time after. Was his absence the true reason she declined? Did he truly love her or was that also some façade?
Curse him.
You hate that in the depths of your darkness, these whispering voices sound like music to your ears. They’re all you have right now and the only thing making you feel even the slightest bit better. Does it make you a bad person for wanting to listen more?
In your weakest moment, it’s all you can do.
“Curse you, Daisuke,” you weakly mumble to whatever shadow is listening.
You’re no father of mine any longer.
Toji was right to hold worries over the man’s sudden return, and you regret not paying it more mind. Although, now you understand Toji more than you would like to admit. It’s a wonder how Toji is even related to Jinichi, let alone the rest of his fucked-up family.
But maybe that’s okay.
Family is what you make of it after all. It’s where your heart and soul come together to make a loving bond that transcends all else. You don’t need blood relation to share that with someone. You just need the right person to trust with that piece of you. To trust with you.
“Are you falling in love?” The aster’s words from before ring in your head.
“Yes, Shion,” you declare with the stars as your witness this time, rather than the darkness. “I am in love with him.”
A cawing sound pulls you back from your reverie. Outside your puny clerestory now in place of the night sky is a piebald crow, hopping along the dirt. You force yourself to sit up, clenching your jaw tightly together as sharp pain shoots up the side of your body in agonizing bursts.
The crow has something with it that it uses its beak to push between the bars until it falls onto your bedroll. A tangerine. You glance back up to the bird as it almost appears to be examining you before taking flight, leaving you alone once more.
With shaky hands, you peel away the skin of the fruit. Juices overflow with each bite that seem to replenish the tears in your eyes that had long since dried up. Between each bite of the ambrosial treat, you wipe your cheeks dry using the torn sleeves of your tarnished marigold robes.
A common theme you feel ─ to have something you deem perfect become stained and anything but.
You manage the strength to stand up fully again, this time on two legs, clutching your side with one arm. From the tips of your toes, you look out into what little of the world you can see for the first time in what’s felt like weeks but has merely been days.
In the distance, there’s a warm, glowing light bouncing off the clouds that rest low on the skies, moving quickly across.
Dawn? No…
You’ve witnessed the light of dawn enough in your time with Toji to paint a clear picture in all its possible colors in your sleep.
This is different.
What you see growing ever closer to you isn’t the sun’s golden hues, nor is the smell that hits your nose that of dewdrops and freshly bloomed flowers.
No, what rages on in the distance is disastrous in nature with only one clear desire ─ to devour everything in its path.
A true calamity.
Fire.
☆ Notes: “wow, what a crazy turn of events with a cliffhanger to top it all off! I can’t wait to read what happens next!” I mutter to myself, staring at the blinking cursor of an empty word document.
Fr though, this was a little intense to write since I kept having all kinds of different ideas and trying to figure out how I wanted certain scenes to play out, but things are happening!!! I’m super excited for the next chapter but you guys miiight kill me depending on what I decide to do with certain things :’)
☆ Taglist: @fandomtrash5092 @catmania-choco
#toji fushiguro#jjk#jjk toji#toji zenin#jujutsu kaisen#toji x reader#jjk au#toji x female reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#courtesan!reader#ronin!toji
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hear me out, the sbg cast x basically a vampire reader. Maybe reader is originally from the phantom world or something, but like, everyone thinks they’re a human, until the first cycle and they just chomp on a phantom? Like their the gangs scary dog privilege. Bonus points if they are like gothic in the real world. 🩸-anon
a/n : WE'RE BACK BABY!! i've had strep throat for the past week and i think it hurt me to not be writing for you all! so please enjoy this fic! (let's not talk about how long this is)
song : butcher vanity (vane & yi xi)
When the group saw you on the first day of school, sitting in the back of the class, clad in traditional goth clothing, they had…varying reactions.
Ashlyn only took notice of you, but made no attempt to befriend you.
She thought you looked cool, and that you had guts to dress like that in a school full of bullies and unaccepting people.
Aiden saw that you were reading and not approaching anyone, making you, in turn, unapproachable.
You reminded him of Ashlyn, just trying to get through high-school without bothering others.
He took it as a personal challenge, and approached you to be a part of the group project.
Ben knew that Aiden was going to try and befriend you the second he saw you.
Which, he was right.
Logan was immediately scared of you.
You looked like you didn’t want to be bothered, so he did exactly that and didn’t bother you.
But you also sat right next to him, which might become an issue in the future if he had to work with you (he did).
Taylor thought you looked jaw-droppingly gorgeous/handsome.
She almost had a crush on you from looks alone.
Tyler thought you were going to be a problem.
You looked intimidating, like you didn’t want to talk to anyone. People like that will hurt people who bother them.
He saw the way Taylor looked at you, and he immediately wanted to protect his sister.
During the group project, Aiden basically begged you to go on the field trip like he did with Ashlyn.
You researched Savannah and saw all the old, almost gothic looking buildings.
From then you were in.
You went with the group to the Sorrel Weed house and saw the Phantom, but you weren’t surprised.
You’ve seen them before.
Because you were so nonchalant about everything else, everyone thought it was normal.
So you didn’t have to fake your non-existent shock.
That night you were awaken to Taylors scream and rushed to her room.
You saw the phantom, and you were angry you were back at this place again.
You met back up with the group, but you knew that phantom wasn’t going to stay gone forever.
Just as you thought, it lunged out from around the corner yet again.
The group decided to run.
You wanted to tear it’s throat out, but whatever.
You all ran out of the room and close the door behind you.
The group began to argue, about the phantom presumably, but you weren’t listening.
You were staring at the sky, which was pitch red.
Your skin felt itchy, and you felt hungry all of a sudden.
Very hungry.
You had to stop.
The phantoms on the ground started charging at the group, which startled you back to reality.
The group was frozen in place, but Ashlyn acted fast, locking the door with the strings of her and Aiden’s shorts.
Ben stayed behind with Aiden and Ashlyn to tie the strings.
Tyler lead you and the group to the room, but you hesitated.
You knew you could take down at least one phantom, so why not help them?
Tyler shouted at you to keep up, but you refused.
Ashlyn, Ben and Aiden ran towards the room, and you waited for them at the door.
Ashlyn pulled the cart into the phantom, and you began to act.
You rushed forward, grabbing his head with your right hand and its shoulder with your left.
Ashlyn stepped back at the speed you displayed.
You bit down.
It felt good.
The phantom fell immediately, presumably dead.
You wiped your face, and let at a low growl in the direction of the other phantoms.
They backed off.
You dragged Ashlyn, Aiden and Ben into the room.
They were mostly in shock, but Aiden recovered first.
He asked you many questions, that you answered confidently.
Until…
“Are you a vampire?”
You froze. Did he find out? Really? After all of the work you put into concealing it?
“Wait… Are you?”
You’ve seen what happens when people die in the phantom realm. How, if they don’t recover or get help, they’ll die. And everyone will think it was a heart attack, or stroke. You could kill them all right now and no one would find out it was you—
You sigh. You can’t run from your problems forever.
“Uh… yeah. That’s what you guys call it. So, yeah, I’m a vampire.”
The group was in shock.
Like??? You just said you were a vampire.
After you explained they were generally fine with it.
As long as you didn’t bite them they didn’t care.
They kept it a secret as well.
You were very thankful, and did your best to protect them from the phantoms and from other people that would pose threats.
You couldn’t protect them forever, though.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN PART 8
BOYCOTT SEO CHANGBIN?
part one part two, part three, PART FOUR part 5 PART 6 part 7.1
part 7.2
TRIGGER WARNING: Body Image Comments (DONT READ THE HIGHLIGHTED RED PART if you dont want to read such comments)
Y/N saw Yeji shaking, her eyes were red. Y/N went closer and crouched down, asking Yeji,
"Yeji, I'm gonna call Hyunjin and Yuna, okay? Till they come, I'll stay here with you." When Y/N was about to pull out her cellphone, Yeji held her hand and said, "No, please don't call anyone. Please, Y/N, I just want to be alone." Y/N said, "Yeji, something happened with Hyunjin?" Yeji replied, "No, everything is okay with him. I just... you won't understand, Y/N. Please, just leave me alone." Y/N took two minutes to think, then she sat next to Yeji on the bathroom floor. Neither of them said a word to each other. Yeji's phone buzzed again. Yeji looked at Y/N and said, "Did you open Twitter?" Y/N replied, "No." Yeji said, "Well, I am trending on Twitter, and my mom keeps sending me tweets." Y/N looked at Yeji with a confused look. Yeji weakly smiled while tears rolled out from her eyes.
Yeji opened her phone and showed Y/N what her mom texted. Her mom's messages were just random screenshots of people on Twitter. As Y/N read those tweets, which said, "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing what she wears. It's like she's trying to repel everyone with her hideous outfits."
"Her body is so disproportionate, it's like she's been assembled from spare parts."
"She's so old and wrinkled, it's like looking at a raisin. Maybe she should just retire and disappear."
"She's so ugly, it's like staring into the abyss. I can't believe anyone would find her attractive."
"Her hair looks like a rat's nest. Maybe she should invest in a wig or a paper bag to cover it up."
"She's such a disgrace to womanhood. She should do us all a favor and disappear from the public eye forever."
The message Yeji's mom sent was, "I told you to stop eating like a pig and get plastic surgery. Now you're bringing bad press and harming the family's reputation, Yeji."
Yeji said, "This is my life, Y/N. Since I was born till now, I had to be perfect at everything, even when I was doing my best, it was never enough. Every time you or anyone else in our circle achieves anything, my parents made sure to put me on more diets and classes to be better than anyone else." Y/N said, "Yeji, I didn't know. Why didn't you ever tell me this?" Yeji replied, "I never wanted anyone to know how miserable my life really is." Yeji looked at Y/N and said, "Please don't tell anyone about this, except Hyunjin. No one knows." Y/N asked, "Why don't you live with Hyunjin and his parents?" Yeji said, "I can't. If anyone finds out about my parents treating me this way, I don't know what they will do to me.
And without any reason, Hyunjin's parents won't allow us to live together; they have a very traditional mindset." Y/N said, "Yeji, if you want help, you can stay with me and Woo. You don't have to go back. Take a few days to clear your mind and decide how you want to live your life." Yeji looked at Y/N with tears and asked, "Are you sure?"
Y/N replied, "Of course."
yeji, y/n came out of the washroom and everyone had troubled expression. y/n asked what happened? felix broke the slience and asked did you see twitter?
taglist: @lee-knows-cats @luvvvash @rockyhedgehog @chansbabygirlsstuff @nilas-posts @midsoulz @hynnnpic
#hyunjin fanfic#hyunjin fake texts#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin#hyunjin angst#hyunjin au#stray kids au#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin social media au#skz x reader#skz social media au#hyunjin smau#skz smau#hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin series#hyunjin romance#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#bang chan#hwang hyunjin#stray kids smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader smut#stray kids fake texts#skz fake texts#bang chan fake texts
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey, Seblainers! Hellooooo, everyone else!
After a seriously stressful few months, I'm finally getting a bit more back to normal and can breathe a bit more easily at last, so of course that means...it's time to decide when Seblaine Week 2024 will be held!
Now, the first poll is going to be a bit different, and let me explain why that is: I was absolutely flabbergasted by the success of 10 Days Of Seblaine, and once again would like to thank everyone who offered support and sent me such kind messages after my Mum was rushed into hospital so suddenly last year. As you all know, that meant I had to sadly postpone Seblaine Week 2023 from the original August dates, and after a vote, it was unanimously decided that we would have a 10 day event, that would comprise Seblaine Week 2023 AND Seblainiversary Weekend 2023, and it was held last November
I want to preface this next by saying that Seblainiversary Weekend 2024 will be unaffected this year and will be going ahead from Friday 8th November until midnight on Sunday 10th November 2024. So you can pop that one in your diaries, and the themes will be announced much nearer to the time.
However! I have actually received a lot of lovely messages (including, surprisingly, some from people who aren't technically even part of our tiny, (but always fierce!) Seblainer fandom, but followed along with the event), to say how much 10 Days Of Seblaine 2023 was enjoyed by you all, and the one thing I have been repeatedly asked is; can I please consider making our main Seblainer celebration a 10 day event from now on?
I honestly have no problem with that whatsoever, but I would probably take things on a year to year basis, asking the same question every May. For now, though, I want to make this entirely your decision, so the first poll has simply two options: Do you want a traditional 7 day Seblaine Week 2024, or do you want 10 Days Of Seblaine 2024?
Just to clarify; if the 10 day event is chosen, it will have 9 themes and a free day, and Seblainiversary Weekend 2024 will take place separately in November, as previously detailed above. Following the result of this first poll, and depending on whether we will be working with a 7 or a 10 day event, I'll post the various date choices before the end of May. The following week, we'll vote for our themes.
Please bear in mind that voting is restricted to one vote per person for the duration of the poll. The first poll will be open for voting from today until midnight GMT on Saturday May 11th, 2024.
P.S. I'm well aware that you are all still waiting for the 10 Days Of Seblaine Masterpost, and this will be completed and posted by mid-June. Thank you all for bearing with me during what was (and still often is!) a hectic and stressful time of upheaval. Please let me know if the poll doesn't work properly. Just send me a message or come off Anon and send me an Ask.
**Please note in advance that none of the nine 10 Days of Seblaine 2023 themes can be used for this year's event!**
Vote here, and please reblog and share this poll.
Love you all, and I am really looking forward to hosting our big event and seeing what all our insanely talented Seblainers come up with!
Ail 💜
#seblaine#sebastian smythe#blaine anderson#seblaine week 2024#10 days of seblaine 2024#seblainer events#please share and reblog!
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm late to @koutone 's party.. but I'm here at last!
She did a Vexshipping redraw challenge here: https://koutone.tumblr.com/post/741348459517460480/anzu-has-a-thing-for-deranged-ancient-spirits
..and I couldn't resist!
#yugioh#arcatskart#tea gardner#anzu mazaki#yami bakura#vexshipping#I decided to go for traditional with this one#I..I..forgot how to draw these ppl
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
please let her smack you flat like a pancake with her comically large hammer
#emu otori#pjsk#project sekai#revue starlight#yesterdays emus... revstar emu has infested my sketchbook. should design an outfit for nene soon#i tried to post these earlier with other doodles and i guess it sidnt go through as the same time as my wip but im glad#bc i realized i should post them seperate. keep my revstar brainrot contained. maybe make a tag for it#revue proseka#hows that. nice ring to it. arent i so handsome#tags are my diary sorry but thats how i am. anyways i had another serious looking one of her with a a bigger hammer but her head looks off#i thnk her hammer should be huge. close game offline style. not like lalafins little sledgehammer. tch#i was like ''maybe i should make a tag for traditional doodles' for 2 seconds and decided#no. im not doing that. amen
430 notes
·
View notes
Text
It’s been a long night, but now we can feel the air, listen to the crickets, and watch the stars since time has stopped looping. Most importantly, though, is that it’s here with you.
Decided to do some fanart for a game. I finally got to playing it and it was really good! This art I drew is not my best but I decided to put it out there still because I think it’s cute. My personal headcannon of what a conversation at the end of the “leave ending” would be. Go check out black tabby games for their games slay the princess and scarlet hollow!
#slay the princess#black tabby games#Decided to just bite the bullet and put my first post out there for the world to see#Hopefully you all like it#Fanart#slay the princess fanart#traditional art#sketchbook#If the creators happen to see this thanks for taking time to look at my art! I hope you’re having a lovely day & taking care of yourselves#romantic#Probably going to workshop this one for a bit#Spoilers for slay the princess#I posted a digitized version if anyone is interested 👀#I finished the game and it was beautiful :D
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
yall are willing to die for trans women and not trans men and we should talk about it actually
#transandrophobia#you'll do anything to protect trans women but dont have that same energy for trans men. interesting.#anyways i think the reason this is is bc ppl like this think bc we're men we dont need to be helped or protected#that somehow we should have figured out how to do this on our own. that we dont need community bc we're already solid and tough enough#which is weird like. how are you trans friendly but then you dont do any other basic progressive shit like#getting rid of gender roles entirely instead of now instead applying them to trans people also? ??#like you dont get to be all 'men should express their emotions and be vulnerable' and then reinforce the traditional gender roles on-#trans men still. like have you or havent you decondtructed that shit in your head or did you iust see someone reblog something that seema#correct w/o even doing any critical thinking or self reflecting or anything on your end at all#i didnt suddenly become made of rock and become invulnerable when i transitioned. bc that narrative for men in general is inaccurate-#and harmful. and even if i did become super buff and capable of mowing down my enemies that wouldnt mean i dont suddenly need community#that doesnt mean i become immune to bullets or that i dont need a space to express my emotions regarding being trans n shit#like yall really just want to leave us out here to die it seems like. we have nowhere to go. no real community bc yall wont give us the#time of day or compassion or anything. you think 'men bad' and thats the deepest your political analysis goes as far as im concerned.#and if thats the case how much better are you than a terf who just decided they were 'okay' with trans women?#p sure this post was inspired from a trans guy literally being a meat shield for other trans ppl and no one gave a fuck.
648 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tamsavage
In My Feelings & I'm Not Aubrey
thereferenceclub
The Reference Club - Lüleburgaz
rememberingoth-blog
Remembering One Tree Hill
lode88b
Lode88 B | Link Vào Nhà Cái Lode88 Chính Thức Mới Nhất
