#i have seen him in concert twice before this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

genshingorlsrevengeance · 4 months

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Hi hello! I’m not the person who originally submitted the ask for the Genshin/Honkai girls with a G Gundam-style chuuni S/O, but I’ll be fully honest that one hit my brainrot something good and fierce. So what about Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, and Stelle with the G Gundam Chuuni S/O?

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Xinyan, Dehya, Navia, Himeko, March 7th, Stelle, and Natasha with a very dramatic S/O

Part 1 here!

@jjovin3221, here is your part two, courtesy of others!

Also, March 7th's part has my absolute favorite image I've ever made for this blog.

Xinyan absolutely loves S/O's over the top attitude!

Not to mention they had some killer pyrotechnics! Both their visions may be Pyro, but her lover's put any flame to shame.

The explosion they'd create alongside the absolute raw energy they exuded from their shouts was enough to motivate her and her fans.

Plus they had an amazing stage name already: The King/Queen of Hearts!

But that being said, she finds them a little too intense at times. All they cared about was fighting, but she did appreciate they made time for her concerts despite that fact.

...Wait, their whole warrior schtick isn't just a stage Persona, was it?

Xinyan watched as S/O effortlessly blew through a horde of bandits with blinding kicks and punches.

She could only watch in silent awe while they rapidly leapt from one enemy to another, everyone powerless to stop their rampage.

With one final kick, S/O sent the last bandit tumbling down a hill, while they crossed their arms dramatically, headband blowing in the wind.

One of the ones knocked to the floor by their punch tried to crawl away, catching S/O's and Xinyan's attention.

(Bandit) "W-What are you?!"

(S/O) "You look upon a student of the Undefeated of the East!"

Grabbing their collar, they looked them in the eyes as they reached for something in their pocket.

(Xinyan) "...Uh, is that a picture?-"

(S/O) "Have you seen this man?"

(Bandit) "Wha...D-DID YOU ATTACK US JUST TO ASK THAT QUESTION?!-"

(S/O) "Answer me!"

(Bandit) "ACK! N-NO! NEVER SEEN HIM!"

S/O tossed the bandit behind him like they were made of paper, walking back to Xinyan.

(Xinyan) "...S/O, did you actually want to ask 'em a darn question this entire time?!"

(S/O) "I did. Does that bother you?"

Xinyan was stunned, blinking twice to make sure she was processing S/O's actions correctly.

(Xinyan) "...A-A little, yeah! Why the heck did we beat the tar outta 'em just for a single thing?!"

(S/O) "Hm. They started it. Let's get back to Liyue, your concert will start soon."

(Xinyan) "R-Right..." Man, they sure do got a screw loose...

Dehya had met many mercenaries that had something wrong with them throughout her career.

But her S/O took the crown for the biggest psycho she's ever met.

When she first met them, she knew they had a dangerous air about them.

What she didn't expect is for them to be able to blow every single thing they came across into smithereens with just their bare hands.

Sure, a Vision allows you to pull some crazy stunts, but how does it ignite your entire fist into a golden flaming sun, which allows you to blow up things as if they were pyro slimes?!

She fell for them because of the kindness they could display, and how reliable they were, but that was when they weren't going off the deep end.

And these days, that was getting increasingly rarer.

Dehya marched into the ruins with S/O, both of them approaching a group of eremites who were holding a girl hostage.

(Dehya) "There's a lot of them in there. What's our plan?"

(S/O) "Flank around the sides. I'll go in the front and save the girl."

Before she could formulate another plan, S/O walked ahead of her.

(Dehya) "Be careful..."

She then watched as the Eremites immediately shot at S/O with arrows from their flanks.

S/O suddenly crouched down with arrows inside of them, which made Dehya's heart stop.

The Eremite's laughter quickly halted when S/O stood back up, arrows somehow caught between every single one of their fingers, completely unscathed.

(Dehya) "...What?"

S/O suddenly threw every single arrow back at them, each of them seemingly lethal as they instantly dropped dead, despite the fact they went through non-fatal areas of their bodies.

(S/O) "COWARD! IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT ME, SHOW YOUR FACE AND I'LL CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

(Dehya) sigh "I'm not even going to ask..."

Navia thought S/O was part of a theatre group from Inazuma, given how over the top they were.

She was horribly wrong, and she didn't know if that was a good thing.

But it certainly made life much more interesting!...In a fiery explosion and screaming kind of way.

But Navia didn't really think S/O any less for it. She loved every bit of them!

...Even the more psychotic bits that would make everyone flee in terror.

Navia's bodyguards watched nervously as Navia loaded her umbrella gun.

(Bodyguard) "U-Uh, I know S/O's reflexes are good but-"

(Bodyguard 2) "Even with non-lethal ammunition, this is REALLY dangerous!"

S/O scoffed as their arms were crossed.

(S/O) "Do you really think bullets can even touch me?"

(Navia) "They're right darling, this is a spreadshot weapon at point blank-"

(S/O) "Then the King of Hearts will show you all! HIT ME, NAVIA!"

(Navia) "A-Alright...Three, two, one!-"

(S/O) "SHINING, FINGER!"

BANG!

In what seemed like an instant, S/O's hand began glowing a bright golden light as it extended out, melting all the bullets she shot upon contact, not even a single one getting through.

Navia and her bodyguards were beside themselves, unsure of what they witnessed even happened.

(Navia) "HUH?! B-BUT-"

(Bodyguard) "HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK?!"

(S/O) "Hmph! If you think what I can do is impressive, then you should see my Master."

(Navia) "S/O, PLEASE let me meet him! I want to ask him how he can just defy the laws of physics!-"

Himeko at first was convinced S/O was just some kind of actor hired to be a live-action representation of Welt's creations.

But no, they were just inside a Mecha-like suit they had created, and could do martial arts perfectly.

...A little too perfect, actually.

Himeko wants to research how the suit works, but she's pretty sure S/O would drive their fist into her stomach and make her explode if she attempted.

Just like every enemy they've come across.

But other than that? She's not exactly too bothered by their insane behavior.

In her travels, she's honestly seen worse. At least S/O uses their power for good, and heck, they even liked her coffee!

That was good enough for her!

Himeko and S/O were strolling through the streets before they were approached by a hooded man, pulling out a knife.

She was mildly concerned by the thug, mostly for them more than anything. After all, S/O was outside their suit.

If they called it down, there would be hell to pay.

(Thug) "Your lady looks rich, hand over all the credits you got, or I'll gut you both."

(Himeko) "Is that right? Well, if I were you, I'd put the knife away."

(Thug) "Wha-Are you stupid?! HAND IT TO ME!"

(Himeko) "Oh, we'll give you a hand, alright. S/O?"

S/O raised their fist into the air.

(S/O) "COME OOUUUUUUUUT! GUNDAAAAAAAAM!"

S/O snapped, and the ground behind them suddenly blew open, shooting debris into the air.

S/O's clothes suddenly changed into a black skin-tight suit of spandex, landing and robotic parts suddenly materializing around them.

The thug was completely shocked by what he was witnessing, while Himeko watched with mild amusement.

(S/O) "HYYYAAAAGH! HYAH! HYAH!-"

S/O was now encased inside their mech, quickly throwing punches and kicks as their machine stabilized and checked if their movements synced up.

Himeko had a blank expression, silently thinking to herself:

(Himeko) S/O has done that every single time they've transformed, and no ones' actually bothered to stop them...

(S/O) "HERE I GO!"

With their warm-up out the way, S/O's machine crossed their arms as it stared directly at the thug, eyes flashing green.

(S/O) "This hand of mine glows with AN AWESOME POWER!"

Himeko tried to contain her giggle with one hand covering her mouth as the thug began blubbering in absolute fear as S/O's hand lit up the entire alley.

(Himeko) "That's so cheesy-"

(S/O) "IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

They immediately grabbed the thug's head as they squirmed, trying their best to make them let go.

(S/O) "SHINING FIIIIIIIIII-"

(Himeko) "Okay dear, you don't actually need to blow him up. I think he gets it."

The head slowly turned to Himeko before a sigh came through the machine, anticlimactically dropping the thug onto the ground.

(S/O) "You heard the lady. Get out of here before she hands you back to me."

(Thug) "AAAAAAAAGH, YOU FREAKS!"

They sprinted away, almost tripping themselves several times in the process.

(Himeko) "...You have got to tell me how that suit of your works someday. Where does it even come from?-"

(S/O) "It comes when I need it."

(Himeko) "...That didn't answer-"

(S/O) "And I'm not going to."

March loved the walking mechanical natural disaster that was S/O.

Did they even make remotely any kind of sense?

Aeons no, but what in this universe really made sense when you think about it?

March takes pictures of S/O all the time inside their suit, pulling off awesome attacks and hanging it on her wall. It made for some really cool wallpaper!

She also likes to steal their headband whenever they were outside their mech, as rare as it was.

March wears their headband and starts mimicking their voice, dramatically shouting in a low voice. It doesn't take her long to break character and begin laughing.

But nothing could top the moment their Master visited the Astral Express.

Upon meeting their disciple once again, the two immediately broke into a strange dance. One that March had to try. If she couldn't make something explode with her hands, then it was onto the next best thing!

Dan Heng, March, and S/O watched as S/O's master departed on a mechanical horse, standing perfectly upright on it, while inside their own mech suit.

(Dan Heng) "...That would certainly explain why S/O is the way they are."

(S/O) "Amazing, isn't he?"

(March 7th) "...Hey, S/O? Remember that thing you did with your Master? Do you think we can try it too?"

S/O's machine tilted its head as they responded to March.

(S/O) "Huh? Oh, the dance?...Sure, why not!"

(Dan Heng) "Uh, I think I'd rather pass-"

(S/O) "Don't be such a spoilsport! Come on: Undefeated, School of the east!"

S/O raised their fist to the middle, with March 7th quickly chiming in and doing the same.

(March 7th) "Winds of the King!"

Dan Heng simply sighed, knowing March or S/O wouldn't take no for an answer.

Finally relenting, he raised his own fist.

(Dan Heng) "Zenshin!-"

S/O retracted their fist and struck a pose, as if they were ready to begin fighting.

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

March leaped into the air and landed dramatically, pointing upwards into the air.

(March 7th) "TEMPA KYORAN!"

Dan Heng grabbed S/O's metallic fist as they traded places, extending their arms and connecting their fists.

(Dan Heng) "Look!-"

(S/O) "THE EAST!-"

March went to the middle, the three of them shouting in unison:

Stelle kept a straight face through all of S/O's shenanigans.

Watching them pose dramatically, witnessing their machine erupt from the ground before S/O magical girl transformed into it, dodging the explosions their fists created, all of it.

Stelle was more confused than anything.

Rules were made to be broken, but the rules of how gravity, physics, and heat worked too?

That was taking it a little too far.

She wants to know how they do it, but some questions were probably left unanswered.

S/O's mech crossed its arms, dramatically posing as it turned to Stelle.

A small army of malfunctioning robots approached them, threatening to attack the camp they were defending.

(S/O) "Hmph, there's too many to take them on individually."

She turned to him, eyes finally widening in surprise.

(Stelle) "Wait, you don't mean?-"

(S/O) "We have no choice! Launch me, just like how I taught you!"

(Stelle) "You can't just defy the laws of physics whenever you want-"

(S/O) "We have no time to argue, JUST DO IT!"

Stelle had performed some crazy plans in her time aboard the Astral Express, but-

Stelle took a deep breath and mimicked the crane stance, her baseball bat still in hand.

(Stelle) "CHOKYO!"

S/O went down on one knee, extending their fists.

(S/O) "HAOH!"

The two struck a dramatic pose in unison, exactly as how S/O's master had taught them.

(Both) "DEN'EIDAN!"

(S/O) "STELLE, FIRE!"

Stelle took a deep breath before swinging with all her might, with S/O suddenly leaping into the air, using her bat as a jumping point.

S/O roared out in fury, their mech spinning rapidly and turning into a tornado of red, blue, and yellow, blitzing a line through the robots, creating a single line of destruction.

Finally, S/O's mech flew up into the air, struck another pose with their feet and fists extended to one direction as if they were doing a flying kick.

(S/O) "ERUPT!"

On command, the entire army detonated at once, creating a beautiful ball of destruction as the dust cloud soared into the air, S/O slowly floating down next to Stelle.

(S/O) "HAHA! BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA!"

Stelle looked blankly at S/O, then back to the army they had destroyed together.

(Stelle) "...It's probably best I stop asking questions, isn't it?"

(S/O) "Yes!"

Oh Aeons above, S/O was a horrible influence on the kids.

Natasha does not have the mental capacity to deal with their insanity they brought with their mech onto the planet.

Hook and the others thought that S/O and their mech was the coolest thing they had ever seen.

The flashy red, blue, yellow, and white of their suit looked like an action figure.

And their warrior attitude definitely did not help things.

S/O had already made themselves notorious in the fighting club too, adding even more fuel to the fire.

She has to constantly tell the kids to not mimic her S/O.

Natasha loved them, but sometimes she wanted to slam her head against their mech in frustration.

They were great with kids, but seem to grasp no concept on impressionable children actually were.

===

Natasha treated the last of the patient's wounds, waving goodbye to them as they left.

She leaned back into her chair, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing.

Natasha opened one eye and saw that S/O's mech was standing completely still, clearly unmanned.

(Natasha) "...Strange, where is-"

She heard the kids all grunting in unison outside the window.

(Natasha) "...Oh no."

She leapt off her chair at a speed that startled some of the people inside.

Opening the door, she found Seele already approaching the clinic.

(Seele) "Nat, the kids!-"

(Natasha) "I know!"

She rushed past Seele, who quickly joined her as they rushed towards an open part of the courtyard.

S/O was standing in front of a large group of children, all mimicking their actions.

(S/O) "Put your heart into every swing! Your fists are the only way to convey how you feel!"

(Hook) "Yes, teacher!"

(Child) "S/O, do you think your Master could teach us too?!"

(S/O) "Hah! My Master would appreciate your enthusiasm, but-"

(Natasha) "S/O!"

S/O froze in fear, as did the rest of the children as every single one of them rushed to hide behind S/O.

Natasha sighed, looking at the kids, then back to her lover.

(Natasha) "What in the world are you doing?"

(S/O) "...Exercising-"

(Seele) "Really? Is that what you call it?"

(Hook) "S-S/O said they would show us the Erupting Burning-"

(Natasha) "Absolutely not! S/O, the clinic, NOW."

Seele took the kids behind her as Natasha dragged S/O out of sight.

(Child) "...Will they be alright?"

(Seele) "I don't think they will be, no."

...

(S/O) "Nat-"

(Natasha) "Do not Nat me! What are you thinking, teaching the kids such a violent move!?"

(S/O) "W-Well, I can't exactly say no to them-"

(Natasha) "Do I know it, S/O, but I don't need parents telling me their kids were trying to blow up something with their bare hands!"

(S/O) "...But I do it with the-"

(Natasha) "Don't you dare finish that sentence! If I find you trying to teach the kids your crazy moves again, I will make you explode next."

The Mech's head moved and stared at Natasha.

(Natasha) "AND YOU'LL BE FIRST IF YOU LET THE KIDS GET ANYWHERE NEAR YOU."

Both the mech and S/O stepped back in fear.

Honestly, S/O couldn't decide whether their master or Natasha was scarier.

...Probably Natasha.

232 notes · View notes

maknaeswrld · 6 months

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a life remembered | l.mh, h.js

wc: 4.6k

genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader

cw: primarily Han pov; illusions to suggestive conversation; concert highs; anxiety/panic attack mentions; food/eating mentions; Bee (I feel like they need a warning lol, love them the most); arguing but bc they care (not between the soulmates); please let me know if I missed anything

part one: a life forgotten

Soulmates are a curious thing. Everyone has them, and someway, somehow, they always find each other.

When Lee Minho walked into JYP Entertainment for the first time, Jisung didn’t know what to do or how to react, and looking back on it now, it was comical. Minho was, in Jisungs opinion, one of, if not the most, handsome man he’d ever seen. It had struck a chord in him he’d chosen to interpret as jealousy.

When Chan told him he wanted to include Minho in the group he was creating, Jisung couldn’t decide if he was giddy or nervous. He’d met the other boy twice and couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that they knew each other. It wasn’t until their third meeting, the first one in an official capacity, to learn the song Chan wanted to showcase, that Jisung realized why.

The small space of the practice room they were designated to made the group circle a tight one, Minho rushing in and dropping to the floor in the open spot between Jisung and Felix, accidentally brushing against Jisung in the process and shooting them both headfirst into a memory both could swear wasn’t theirs.

Water surrounded them in every direction, the sounds of laughter filling the air. The ship rocked gently as the waves pushed it along steadily.

Minho took Jisungs hand, leading him to the edge of the ship.

“Where is your beautiful mind right now, my love?”

And although it didn’t feel like he was talking to Minho, and there was no response, Jisung’s smile lit up his entire face, his eyes twinkling in pure content.

“Come back to the group, love. The boys are going to start their whining if you ignore them for too long.” Minho groaned.

Again there was no response, as if a chunk of their memory for this specific moment was still missing.

“You know how your boys can get.” Jisung waved nonchalantly, hand grasping at thin air before the two turned back to join the rest of the crew.

Practice was immediately derailed as they were brought back to the present, everyone looking worried as they surrounded the pair.

“What just happened?” Changbin asked, holding Jisungs shoulder to keep him steady.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Jisung couldn’t stop himself from seeking out Minho’s eyes, which were already on him, holding the softest expression Jisung has ever seen in his life.

“Please tell me you saw the ship too.” Minho whispered, voice unsure, hand grasping Jisungs for dear life and all he could do was nod. Minho started nodding along with him, the two slowly morphing from shock to joy as smiles spread across their faces.

Tears pricked at Jisungs eyes the more the realization hit him.

“We’re soulmates.”

````

Five years.

In five years, so much had changed for Han Jisung. In just five years he’d met not only the love of his life, but also his soul brothers, a realization they came to some time after the soulmate realization, as Minho and Jisung saw the rest of the members in almost all of their past lives.

In five years Stray Kids had also risen to a level of fame not one of them had predicted. They were living a life their younger selves could have only hoped to dream of, and they were so beyond grateful and happy to be able to keep doing music together.

But also within those five years, Minho and Jisung had come to the conclusion that something was missing. They were absolutely positive that they were soulmates, of that there was not even a shadow of a doubt, but there were too many holes in their shared memories, conversations that felt one sided, moments in bed with a gap between them that shouldn't be there if they were at peace with one another. But the confirmation that they were missing a piece came in a memory that surfaced much later than the rest, one with Jisung storming up to Minho’s door, fist banging in anger, wedding band adorning his finger but not Minho’s.

That memory was one of Jisung being angry with Minho and not even knowing who he was, with Minho knowing of Jisung but not knowing him personally, of them both being in love with a person that wasn’t the other. Minho is positive he’d despise cheaters in every life, yet was accused of sleeping with a married person. Neither Jisung, nor Minho could remember Jisungs spouse's name, what they looked like, what gender they were, all they knew was that both of them loved them, and they both loved them as desperately as they love one another, and that was enough to convince them that the piece missing was a third soulmate.

They didn’t know how to go about it, they couldn’t even be allowed to share the truth of their relationship and thousands of Stays were claiming to be each members soulmates daily just for a chance of meeting them. The chances of finding their third and final piece was slim at absolute best.

People always say trust the soulmate connection and that time would bring them together, but that was hard knowing you couldn’t remember someone you love.

Han Jisung spent far too many concerts and fan meets searching the crowd in hopes that you’d be there, that he’d finally find you and the trio would finally be complete. Likewise, he’d spent just as many nights disappointed that you were nowhere to be found. With their fame came the higher likelihood of you being able to find them, but that also meant it’d be harder for them to find you. However, Chan and his soulmate, Riley, gave Jisung hope that he would find you.

Lee Minho wanted to find you just as badly, though he looked for you in the mundane. Whilst his partner expected you to reach out via their fame, Minho hoped more for bumping into you on the sidewalk or in a coffee shop, it made him feel more attainable. Minho knew that whilst Riley and Chan made it work, and even Bee and Changbin, there were just as many people that would be scared off by celebrity soulmates as there are seeking them.

Another concert, another night of Jisung daydreaming about finding you in the crowd and whisking you away after to finally meet you and remember you. Riley gave Chan a knowing glare, the parental figures of the group concerned about their younger friend. Ever since the two soulmates came to the conclusion they have a third one, which isn’t unheard of but is fairly rare, their friends have been doubtful to say the least.

No one likes seeing the kicked puppy look on Jisungs face whenever someone mentions that maybe there isn’t anyone else out there, or the way Minho gets defensive when they try to talk to him about the possibility of their memories just not having fully solidified yet. Both in the firm belief that five years connected at the hip was enough time to remember everything. But that didn’t stop the worried glances and strained smiles when they’d start talking about their ‘other soulmate’.

“They’re gonna be here tonight.” Jisung stated as if it were an absolute fact.

“You said that last night, Sungie.” Hyunjin muttered.

“Yeah, but I can feel it this time. They’re in the crowd right now, I’m positive of it.”

“Ji, you have an incredible soulmate already, why are you so eager to find another one?” Bee asked from their almost permanent place snuggled into Changbin. “I’m just saying, I can’t imagine dealing with more than one Binnie.”

“They’re not another Minho, they’re mine and Min’s missing piece.” Jisung argued. It was a conversation that felt all too familiar, and every time one of his soul brothers or other lifetime friends make comments, he feels himself getting just a little more hostile but also a little more defeated.

Maybe they were wrong, maybe there wasn’t a missing piece and they truly just haven’t had the best relationship in every lifetime. But Jisung couldn’t bring himself to believe that. Seeing how whole Bee and Bin, and Riley and Chan, were, how they didn’t have memory gaps or questionable moments and conversations, made him feel like there was no other explanation aside from another person to fill the void. It wasn’t like Jisung thought Minho wasn’t enough for him, he wasn’t seeking more from outside their relationship, he loved Minho with every fiber of his being, but he knew Minho wasn’t the only one he’d hold these feelings towards. And Minho knew it too, it was a long conversation to have, one that ended in tears but mutual understanding that they would always have each other and weren’t seeking out this third person for any reason other than them wholeheartedly believing they are also their soulmate.

As the time to go on stage got closer and closer, Jisung felt more antsy. He wasn’t sure why tonight felt different, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Minho tried to calm him down, but was just as on edge.

The concert went smoothly, they always did, but Minho and Jisung both spent far more time engaging towards one specific area than they ever had before. It’s like they couldn’t abandon the section for longer than a few minutes and they always ended up right back there the second they could. Jisung felt better than he had in a long time, adrenaline pumping through his veins and a smile plastered on his face. He felt good, he felt whole for the first time in a long time. Jisung couldn’t explain it, but that stage was the most at home he’d felt since he first found Minho.

As they said their goodbyes to Stay and made their way backstage, the overwhelming peace Jisung had felt slowly faded. He couldn’t think of any reason why, but as he watched Riley smother his leader with kisses and Bee put his best friend into a headlock, he felt himself growing more numb.

Minho wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder, relieving the aching feeling sinking in so fast it would have given Jisung whiplash if he weren’t already used to the other boys' affect on him, body and mind. Jisung could feel giggles bubbling up in him with each soft kiss placed on the base of his neck.

“You were radiant out there tonight, my love.”

“And you were very sexy.” Jisung giggled.

“Hey now! There are children present!” Riley scolded, breaking away from Chan to cover Jeongin’s ears. “Go foreplay somewhere else.”

“Yeah!” Bee shouted from Changbin’s back. “There’s dressing rooms for a reason!”

The look of absolute dismay Riley shot Bee was priceless, “That’s not what the dressing rooms are for.”

“It’s not? Did you know that bro?”

Changbins ears were red. “Please don’t call me bro while talking about this.”

“How about we just all get showered and changed and go grab something to eat?” Chan suggested in a tone that left no room for argument, clapping his hands together and pulling Riley back towards his body. “And stop babying Innie, he’s worse than Bee these days.”

“I will never stop babying my baby, but I am hungry.” Riley muttered in agreement. “If y’all take too long in the shower, we’re leaving without you.” Riley pointed at Bee and Changbin, who’s ears somehow got even more red. Bee just winked at their best friend, shiteating grin plastered on their face.

Twenty minutes later, Jisung piled into the van with his bandmates and additional soulmates, Seungmin and Hyunjin discussing what they wanted to eat whilst Felix snuggled into Bee’s side, the two looking at memes while Changbin pouted.

Jisung felt more drained than he had in a long time, his social battery past empty and moved on to completely fried. Minho pulling him into his side eased some of the anxiousness starting to well up.

“No panic attacks after amazing shows.” Minho whispered.

Jisung buried his head further into the other mans neck. “I’m trying.”

“I know.” He kissed the crown of his head gently, smiling softly while tightening his hold. “I’m seriously so proud of you.”

The ride was uneventful out to the opposite side of the city, in hopes less people would recognize them so they could have their meal in peace. Minho and Jisung were the last of the group to venture out of the vehicle and towards the restaurant. They didn’t get too far before a voice rapping along to Han’s part to All In stopped them dead in their tracks.

“Y/n, please, you’re in public.”

“You’re wasting your breath, you know how they are about their spotlight songs.”

Han’s eyes landed on the person rapping his line with such ease it was as if they’d written it themself. He felt excitement flood through him instantaneously, rushing over and joining them, singing along to the song playing quietly in the outdoor speakers overhead.

He watched your eyes light up as the two of you sang along together, ignoring your friends and focusing on one another. Not a thing in the world was registering to either of you as you both turned to Minho, watching as he rolled his eyes, smile already playing at his lips, joining in for the last parts of the song.

Your laughter filled the air as the song came to an end, and Jisung could swear it was already becoming one of his favorite sounds.

“Took you long enough.”

Your voice was laced with amusement.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You know I don’t like singing by myself.” You nudged his shoulder lightly, causing him to wrap his arm around your shoulders and squeeze tight.

“But your voice is so nice!”

A blush lit up your cheeks in an instant, mouth opening to respond when someone clearing their throat behind you drew the groups attention.

“Y/n, um, what?”

“Min! Sungie! Hurry your asses up or we’re gonna eat without you.” Bee shouted from down the way, drawing Jisungs attention just long enough for you to slip out of his hold.

By the time he or Minho could focus back on you, you were gone. No trace of a person having been standing with them, as if you’d been a figment of their imagination.

“Sungie…”

“I know.”

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

Minho was staring off into the direction you had to have gone in, itching to run after you. Jisung stared at his hands, in disbelief that just moments prior he was holding the final piece of his puzzle in those same hands.

You, the random stranger unabashedly performing one of their songs in the middle of the street, were the one person Jisung and Minho had been looking for incessantly. The person they knew they couldn’t remember.

“Do you ever wonder what we’d be like if we didn’t find each other? What’d it’d be like if we don’t keep finding each other?”

Jisung was used to thinking these types of questions, but hearing you ask them out loud hurt more than him thinking them ever did.

“I’d rather imagine we’ll always find each other.” Jisung grumbled, tightening his hold on both of the bodies on either side of his.

“Okay but what if-”

“There are no what if’s, my love. We’ll always find one another, in every lifetime, even if some take a little longer than others. I don’t see a reason to dwell on the impossibility of not ending up right back here every single time.”

You snuggled deeper into Jisungs chest, hand squeezing Minho’s.

“I suppose you’re right.” You mumbled. Minho squeezed your hand comfortingly in response.

Jisungs arms shifted entirely around you, squeezing as he rolled over to toss you in the middle, both of your soulmates wanting to hold you close. You sighed in content, snuggling into your boys happily.

“I am so dead serious right now, you two. We will absolutely eat without you if you don’t- why do your faces look like that?”

“We found them.”

“Found who? Why are you being cryptic.”

“We found our other soulmate.” Jisung said.

Bee’s mouth dropped open and within moments all of their brothers and Riley were there, bombarding them with questions.

“Okay, so is no one surprised that they actually have another soulmate? Is that just me?” Hyunjin said, a smack from Seungmin following shortly after.

“Which direction did they go? We need to find them!” Jeongin said, already shifting from one foot to the other as if he were ready to sprint in any direction in a moments notice.

“We didn’t actually see what direction they went in because somebody distracted us.” Jisung glared at Bee.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m hungry and didn’t know.” They huffed.

“We were facing that way so they definitely couldn’t have gone in that direction.” Minho cut in, knowing a grumpy Jisung and a hangry Bee is never a good combination. They loved each other like siblings but damn could they argue until they both turned blue.

“Alright, everyone pick a direction and let's find our boys’ soulmate.” Chan said, “Go in pairs and meet here in one hour, no exceptions. Even if everyone comes back empty handed, we have to at least try.” Turning to his first and last children, his eyes and tone softened. “Is there anything we can use to recognise them?”

Jisung immediately jumped into a full description, followed by Minho simply saying, “Ask if they know ‘All In’. They were singing it with us just now.”

Nods all around as people started pairing up.

“Okay, I’m going with Ji.” Riley stated, looping their arm through Jisungs. “Channie, you take Min. Bin and Bee, separate. I am not dealing with soulmates getting distracted and off mission right now.”

Before Jisung could even think about protesting, he was being swept away by Riley in the first direction he would have guessed you ran in. Jisung struggled to keep up with the pace set by Riley as they ducked into shops and restaurants, checking bathrooms and fitting rooms as they went. Riley wanted to cover as much ground as possible in the one hour timeframe given, which Jisung was appreciative of. However, Jisung hoped Minho and Chan were having better luck, or anyone else for that matter.

He wanted to find you more than anything. Knowing he had you in his arms was enough for him to get addicted to you, and if he stopped for a moment and focused on his memories, he was sure you were already fitting yourself into almost every single one..

Every one sided conversation suddenly being completed, all those nights spent with an unnecessary space between himself and Minho being filled by you. Your presence for those four minutes he got with you had already led to a downward spiral of need to be close to you, to hold you in his arms once more.

In combination with the presence of you in old memories, as if you’d always been there, there was also a small onslaught of new memories, ones without Minho but including you. Ones that further solidified your rightful place within his life.

As another memory flashed behind his eyes, he took a seat on a bench outside of a small corner store.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked, always a mother hen.

“I’m fine, just, check this one without me, I need a moment.”

Riley seemed to understand and didn’t ask questions as they pat him on the back and wandered into the store.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” A voice whispered in your ear as hands made their way around your waist. “Because I feel like we’ve met before and I’d like to get to know you again.”

You could smell the stench of alcohol emanating off the stranger feeling you up in the middle of the dance floor. Rolling your eyes, you ripped his hands off you, turning around and shoving him back for safe measure.

“I do believe in soulmates, and you sure as hell ain’t mine. But the guy who is doesn’t really take kindly to strangers touching what's his.”

Before the idiot could open his mouth again, Jisungs arm slid into place across your shoulders, pulling you in for a downright make out session right in the middle of the bars dance floor.

When he finally pulled away, the dude was nowhere to be seen.

“Took you long enough.” You said teasingly.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He smiled gently, and then led you to the booth he’d been watching you from.

You shook your head as you splashed water on your face in the bathroom, your best friend, Lia, pacing behind you.

“I thought you wanted to avoid them?”

Lia was the only person you’d confided in after coming to terms with the fact that your soulmates were not one, but two international superstars.

“I did, but, I don’t know. It was like being like that with them was so natural I didn’t even register that we don’t know each other. It felt right.”

“Do you think they know?”

Sighing, you lightly tapped your head against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know. If they don’t yet, we’ve met now, it’s only a matter of time before I start filtering into their memories.”

“Do you want to keep hiding from them? Y/n/n, they know now, there’s no avoiding them not remembering you anymore. Don’t you think avoiding them now will just cause unnecessary pain?”

“I know that! I do. But, I’m not sure I could handle being in their world, and what if they end up resenting me for ruining the good thing they already had? They’ve been together for so long, and then I just blindside them with my existence? What if they didn’t even know they had a third soulmate?”

“Then they do now and they’re probably looking everywhere for them. Those two don’t seem like the type to resent you for coming into their lives, but they might if you enter it just to disappear forever. I get the feeling now that they know, they’ll never stop looking for you. Do you understand that?”

You opened your mouth to answer when the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just looking for someone.” The stranger looked flushed, as if they’d been running, but even so you could tell they were stunning. “Um, neither of you happen to know the song All In, do you?”

You and Lia shot each other confused but nervous looks, which seemed to be enough for this stranger who finally let the bathroom door shut behind them, leaning against it and eyeing you both.

“So which one of you is the runner?”

“What do you mean?”

“One of you just met your two soulmates and then booked it while they had their backs turned, which was it?”

Lia threw her hands up in defense, pointing at you in the process and backing up.

“Traitor.” You mumbled, causing her to stifle a laugh.

The stranger blocking the exit landed their gaze on you, “I ran too.”

Of all the things you were expecting them to say, that was definitely not on the list of possibilities.

“It’s scary,” They continued, pushing off the door and walking towards you. “But the separation is worse. I promise you, it’s better than you can possibly imagine. The company takes good care of us, and while we aren’t allowed to be public, we go pretty much everywhere with the boys if we want to. They don’t do anything to risk our relationships.”

“I’m sorry but, who are you and what do you mean by our?”

“Oh! I’m Riley, I’m Chan’s soulmate. And Changbin found his as well, their name is Bee. I went through the running and being scared of falling for someone in the industry but Bee was already in the industry themself when they found Bin, so it was slightly easier for them. Sorry, I’m rambling, but my point is we’re both here for you and we both understand how you’re feeling. And that those men you just left in the dust are two of the best I’ve ever met, and they’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

That comment shocked you to your core.

They’ve been looking for you.

“How could they be looking for me, they couldn’t have even known about me.”

Riley seemed to hesitate. “To be honest, none of us believed them. For a while we really just assumed that they found each other at such a young age they’ve never experienced anything but one another, so the whole third soulmate thing was just sort of a way to come to terms with the fact that they wanted a change of pace or something. But, here you are, and we stand corrected.

“They may not have known you, or known how to find you, but they’ve been searching for their ‘missing piece’ about as long as I’ve known them.” Then Riley quirked their head in a very parental like motion. “You already knew, didn’t you.”

It was phrased as a question, but was completely an irrefutable statement.

“How long have you known?” Where you were expecting harshness or judgment, you received only the sound of sheer curiosity.

“Almost a year now.” You mumbled, arms wrapping around yourself for a sense of security.

Riley blanched. “A YEAR?!”

You just nodded.

“Damn hun, I would’ve lost my mind if I’d known who Chris was for a whole year. How the hell did you manage that?!”

“By convincing themself that Minho and Han were already happy and better off without them, that they’d just throw a hitch in their lives that they didn’t need.” Lia stated, you could practically hear her rolling her eyes at you. Riley’s eyes softened at her words.

Grabbing your hands in one hand, Riley brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, gently cupping your cheek. “I know exactly how you feel. When I found Chris, I ran too. I didn’t think I could survive his work schedule, the expectations placed on him, all the fans claiming him, but he is so worth every single difficulty and so much more. I know you’re scared right now, and it’s probably worse for you because it’s just Chris and me, but Min and Ji already adore you, they could never be happier without you than they will be with you, I can promise you that much.

“I understand if you’re not ready yet. I wasn’t ready for a long time myself, so if it’s okay with you, I want to give you mine and Bee’s numbers, you can reach out to us with any and all questions, concerns, whatever. Heck, if you just want to use them to get to know us, that’s fine too. I didn’t have anyone to help me, but you have us, we’ll help you all the way. Think about it, okay? All three of you will be so much happier together. You aren’t meant to be apart.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes again. You knew Riley was right, you’d always known you’d be happier with them, but you also knew there was no way for you to get their attention, no way for them to actually find you, now that you had, now that they knew you, you were truly out of logical reasons to avoid taking your place by their sides.

Because soulmates are a curious thing. Everyone has them, and someway, somehow, they always find each other.

next part: a life eluded

a/n: ahhhhhh part two, I feel like it’s been done for a while but I’ve been like nervous about it idk, anyways I hope you enjoyed!! I know it’ll run for at least two more parts with potential for spin off(s) on the others finding their soulmates or even ‘prequels’ of Riley and Chan as well as Bee and Changbin🫣🤭 please feel free and encouraged to leave your thoughts and opinions and also lemme know if you’d be interested in being tagged in upcoming parts? ciao!! 🫶

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ghostiexe · 6 months

Text

Teacher AU!Wilbur x Reader

hello fellas i'm back with another wilbur fic he has been all i can think about for the past several days. take this

wordcount: 1,461 (part 1/?)

as always this is not proof read sorry lads

part 2 here

Being a teacher is not the job you thought you’d end up with when you were doing career planning in 12th grade, but here you stand.

Back in the same high school you swore never to return to.

Oh, well, then. At least you have mediocre pay and little to no benefits, right?

You sigh and drop a box onto the desk in your mostly empty classroom. It’s bare and almost liminal in a sense, and you can't help but feel creeped out.

You step back from the desk and examine the room with your hands on your hips for a moment before shaking your head. This setup is awful, you decide. Time to change it up a bit.

You get to work pushing desks across the room, trying to ignore the screeching of metal against linoleum. You’re already sweating and it’s only been a couple minutes since you made the decision to completely change the room.

You huff softly as you drag another desk, having two of the legs lifted slightly off the ground. Suddenly, you lose your grip on it, and it falls directly onto your foot.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, yanking your foot out from under it and pulling your leg up protectively, bouncing slightly as you try to keep your balance with your one foot on the ground. Suddenly, you hear a soft knock on your doorframe and you whip your head around to see who it is.

You’re met with the sight of a concerned looking, very, very tall man. He has a mess of curly brown hair and glasses that are too big for his face, though you can’t help but think they suit him. “Um… Are you alright?” He asks, gesturing to your foot, which you realize you’re still holding. Your face flushes and you put your foot back down on the ground, tucking your hair, embarrassed.

“Yes, I’m okay.” You assure him, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, uh, for my language.” You apologize, and he cracks a small smile.

“It’s okay.” He assures you, leaning against the doorframe. “Is this your first year teaching?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious as he looks you up and down. You nod.

“Yeah, it is.” You admit, starting to drag the desk again. The man winces at the sound. “Do you need help?” He asks, and you nod instantly.

“Yes please.” You say, sighing in relief. He walks over and lifts the other side of the desk, following your lead when you take it to the corner of the room. He clears his throat as the both of you work.

“So, I assume you’re the new English teacher, then…?” He asks, and you nod, stepping back to look at your now rearranged room. You hum softly in approval of the sight.

“Uh, yeah, I am.” You say, realizing you haven’t introduced yourself. You wipe your palms on your pants and reach out, offering your name and a handshake. He accepts.

“I’m Wilbur.” He introduces himself. “Though you’ll have to refer to me as Mr. Soot in front of the kids, I suppose.” He says, shrugging. You smile gently.

“Well, Mr. Soot, I appreciate the help.” You tell him, and he nods, glancing away and then back to you, looking a little shy.

“It’s no problem, really.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his head. Your attention is drawn toward his outfit, then, and you let out a startled laugh.

“Is that The Front Bottoms? No way, I love them.” You say. He looks a little surprised, but nods eagerly.

“It is! You like them?” He asks, the nervousness slipping away slightly. “Yeah, of course!” You say, beaming up at him. “I’ve seen them in concert twice.” Wilbur groans at the news.

“Unfair, I’ve been wanting to see them for forever.” He says with a small pout. You giggle. “Well, I wish you luck on getting tickets.” You say, lazily saluting. He laughs softly.

“Well, now I’m glad I wore this shirt today.” He says. “You’ll probably not see me in it again for a while, I don’t dress casually on school days.” He says, crossing his arms and leaning against your wall. You hum.

“Oh? And what do you teach, again?” You ask, and he sighs. “Oh, God, good question. Well, I’m supposed to be the History and Geography teacher, but the board found out I can play instruments, so now I’m supposed to be teaching a combined history-slash-music class. I had to plan the whole class in a month.” He complains, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. You wince.

“Yikes. That sounds interesting, though. How did you manage that? Is it, like, just exploring the history of music?” You ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He admits, rubbing his arm. “It’s probably gonna be a shit class, since I barely had time to put anything together.” He says with a sigh. “But I’m supposedly the ‘boring’ teacher anyway, so it’s not like I have a reputation to uphold anyway.” He says sarcastically. You frown.

“Boring? You don’t seem boring to me, why do they think you’re boring?” You ask, genuinely bewildered. He winces.

“Ah, well, I was a new teacher last year, so my lessons were very, uh, by the book, I guess you could say. I didn’t really put any of my own spins on the lessons or anything because I was too focused on trying to drill information into their brains.” He says, sounding a little embarrassed. “Ahh, I see.” You say sympathetically, nodding. “Well, what do you have planned for this year?” You ask, gesturing for him to come sit at your desk with you. You grab one of the plastic chairs for yourself and let him sit in your spinning chair.

“Well, I’ve been trying to think of ways to spice geography up, so I found a couple games I thought might be interesting to have them play in class.” He says, tapping on his chin thoughtfully as he sits back in your chair, looking up at the ceiling. “I might have them playing Geoguessr.” He says, resting his hands on his lap. “Oh, that sounds fun!” You say, clapping your hands lightly. “I wish I could do something like that for my class.” You say.

He turns his gaze back to you. “Well, what grade are you teaching English for?” He asks. “Because if you’ve got freshmen and sophomores, I’d say it’s probably not the best idea, but if you’ve got the juniors and seniors, you could definitely do something with them.” You nod. “I’m teaching for juniors and seniors, actually. But I have a senior creative writing class, too.” Wilbur looks pleased at the news. “Oh, really? What’ve you got planned for creative writing?” He asks, smiling softly. “I always like seeing what the students come up with, some of the kids from last year were actually really good.” He says. You smile back.

“Well, I’ve planned a unit on the butterfly effect, but I also want to do some poetry next term.” You say, tucking your hair behind your ear and gently tapping your fingers on the desk. Wilbur hums thoughtfully.

“Well, poetry could be fun. I’m a shit poet, honestly, but I mean, at least they make for good song lyrics?” He says, wincing slightly before waving his hand to dismiss the topic. “That will be fun, though, I think. Is it an elective or required class?”

“Just an elective.” You respond, tucking away the comment about song lyrics for later. You still your hands and place them flat on the desk. “Thankfully. I don’t know if I could force a bunch of uninterested kids into actually doing the work if it was required.” You say, shaking your head. He makes a sympathetic sound. “Yeah, I understand. Sometimes I wish that I taught more elective classes, but there’s not really many history or geography related electives I would be eligible to teach, anyway.” He says, chuckling to himself. “Maybe if the kids drive me crazy enough I’ll just give up and have ‘em watch Crash Course videos for the whole class.” He jokes, and you giggle softly.

“If only, if only.” You say, sighing dramatically. After a pause – a few moments of comfortable silence – you speak up again, clearing your throat.

“So how’s the cafeteria food here? Any good? I mean, when I went to school here it sucked, any developments?” You ask. “Oh, you went here for high school?” He asks, before shaking his head. “Unfortunately no, by the way. What year did you graduate? I graduated in ‘18.” He says, pushing his large glasses up.

“Oh, I graduated in 2019. We’re only a year apart, that’s cool.” You say, then glance at the time. “Shit, it’s nearly five.” You say, frowning. “I need to finish setting up my room.” You say, standing up and sighing. He nods in understanding. “That’s alright, I’ll leave you to it.” He says, standing up too. “Unless you need help, still?” You shoot him a grateful smile but shake your head. “No, it’s alright. Thank you, though. For helping, and for keeping me company. I’ll, uh, see you around?” You ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure to drop by your classroom.” He says, running a hand through his curls. “And, um, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” He adds, sounding a bit shy.

“Of course, thank you so much, Wilbur.” You say, grateful you’ve got someone to talk to now. You smile at him, though it looks a bit exhausted. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” He agrees, waving at you before stepping out and walking down the hall to his own room. The second he walks away you have to take a moment to breath.

What the fuck, he was cute.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfic #wilbur x you #teacher wilbur #teacher reader

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seungminnie-meong · 3 months

Text

roommate ateez reacting to you dealing with mental illness

Your roommate Ateez finding out/reacting to you having a mental illness. GN reader for all, Feminine clothing in Wooyoungs, makeup in sans. CW for mental illness including depression, bipolar/mania, self-harm (if you're sensitive skip San and Mingi) , and eating disorders/body dysmorphia (if you're sensitive skip Wooyoung and Jongho)

Hongjoong was never one to pry. He usually minded his own business, and you minded yours. That was how the two of you worked so well as roommates. But one day, he couldn’t shake the notion that something was wrong. It was nearly 7 pm and he hadn’t seen you the entire day. He decided to go out and pick up some ingredients to make dinner for the both of you, as he hadn’t seen you eat at all so far today. When he came back, you were still holed up in your room, so he decided against his non-prying nature, and gently knocked on your door. He heard some quiet shuffling, and after a few moments, a tired looking you opened the door. He smiled, glad to know you were okay.

“I bought us some stuff to make dinner, I know you haven’t eaten all day. Do you want to help me?” He offered gently, and you nodded. You were slightly embarrassed to still be in your pajamas at 7 at night, but Hongjoong understood. He never asked any questions, he just quietly sat beside you and made sure you always knew you didn’t have to be alone through this. He knew you didn’t always feel like talking about it, and that was okay. The two of you stood quietly in the kitchen while you chopped vegetables and Joongie cooked up some meat. He stopped to play some music over the speaker he kept in the kitchen. As Billie Jean played through the speaker he began to sway and dance to the beat and you just giggled at him. He grabbed both of your hands to get you to dance along and you just laughed. He may have been a professional dancer but the way he was dancing now was definitely intended only to make you laugh. You began to dance along with him as best as you could, abandoning your chopped vegetables. Hongjoong started jumping around, singing into his wooden spoon as a mic, putting on a complete kitchen concert. Before you know it, you forget what you were even sad about to begin with.

Seonghwa was caring by nature, and he was the first to notice when you started to have a depression spell. He knew he couldn’t stop the depression from coming on, but he could help you by making sure you were well taken care of. The first day he noticed you sleeping in until noon, he was doing your laundry for you and reminding you to brush your teeth. The day he noticed you hadn’t bothered with eating any real food, he was filling up your water bottle and placing it on your nightstand and cooking ramyeon for the two of you for dinner. But, the day he heard you sniffling and crying behind the closed door of your room, he was at a loss. He felt helpless. He knew how to take care of your needs, but when it came to helping you with the actual depression, he was stuck. He sat in the living room, conflicted. He had never dealt with depression before. He had his bouts with anxiety occasionally, but this was a different kind of beast. He thought back on what helped him when he felt sad. He walked back to his room and pulled all the blankets and stuffies off of his bed and marched back to your door, knocking twice before pushing the door open. “Hwa? What are you doing?” you said through teary eyes. “We're gonna build a fort.” “Why?” You choked out a sob, and Seonghwa fought the urge to not cry himself. He was a pretty emotional guy, and you were important to him. Seeing you cry made him sad. To distract himself, he got busy pulling blankets over your furniture, slowly making the fort come together. After a minute, you stopped sniffling, getting up from your bed to help him. It was so absurd that you really had no other choice but to help him, I mean he was in your room after all. As the two of you worked together to put your pillows and plushies in the final places and admire your work, Seonghwa pulled you into the fort and into his chest to hold you tightly. “I know I don’t always know how to help you feel better or what to say, but I want you to know I’m always here for you no matter what, okay?”

Yunho was an early riser. He liked waking up early to get a run in before he started his day. So imagine his surprise when he woke up to find you still awake from the day before. He leaned against your doorframe in his workout clothes, looking at you confused. “What are you still doing up? It’s seven in the morning.” You just put your phone down and shrugged, a yawn escaping your lips. You knew exactly what it was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Yunho. The pharmacy hadn’t been able to fill your meds yet this week and you could feel a hypomanic episode coming on. Yunho was somewhat aware that you had bipolar type II because he knew you took medication every day, but he didn’t really understand what it was like if you were off your medication. Your thoughts had been racing since early that day, and you’d been going nonstop since you got home from work, cleaning your whole bedroom from top to bottom. Yunho looked at you quizzically, not convinced. “I just can’t sleep,” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either. He looked worried for you. Ever since you moved in together, Yunho was like a big brother to you, he was always concerned about your mental health and making sure you were taking care of yourself. “Alright, if you’re not gonna sleep, at least keep me company on this run.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you up out of your warm comfy bed with many a complaint from you. But you couldn’t deny that the idea of a run sounded nice to get some of your energy out. You pushed him out and shut the door behind him so you could pull on some shorts and a hoodie with some sneakers, and he met you at the door with two full water bottles. The two of you kept an easy jogging pace and got to watch the sun come over the horizon, which was really beautiful. By the time you got back, you could finally feel tiredness seeping into the back of your mind. When you woke up from your couple hour nap on you and yunho’s shared couch, he was freshly showered with wet hair in a hoodie and sweats playing on his playstation. You sat behind him and leaned on his back; cheek squished against his shoulder. “Feeling well rested?” you felt the reverberations of his chuckle through his back. “A little bit.” you yawned. “Thanks for making me go running with you, I couldn’t sleep because the stupid pharmacy hasn’t been able to refill my meds this week and I've been feeling so manic.” You explained. He reached around and placed a hand on your knee. “You could’ve just told me, you know I’m always here to help you. I know I don’t always know what to do but I’m always here for you bubs.”

Yeosang is insanely empathetic, so there’s no hiding from him. The moment the two of you moved in together you realized he was always going to notice every little moodswing. It took some time before he became good at dealing with them, because at first he was far too shy to approach you about it, so he just sat idly by and worried about you whenever you got sad. After some time, he got braver, sometimes knocking gently on your door with a warm cup of tea and your favorite chocolate. After a while, you guys finally became friends, and Yeosang decided he wasn’t going to let you just suffer in silence, so he would invite you out with your other mutual friends and try to get you out of the house, even against his own introverted nature, just to get you to have some fun. But sometimes, there were really hard days, where you could hardly drag yourself out of bed. Even still Yeosang was right there beside you with a cold glass of water and some funny videos on his laptop to watch with you until he could get you out of bed. He knew everything was a matter of baby steps on your depressive days. And on manic days, like today, he was always there to listen to every racing thought, there to help pull you back to reality when you got too excited, and remind you to eat, shower, and take your meds. Yeosang even put a big calendar on the fridge with all of your therapy dates and medication refill times so you wouldn’t forget. He was your rock. Today, he was away at work, so you were trying your best to stay stable while you were alone. You were so ecstatic when you finally heard the front door open, you ran down the front hallway, sliding on the hardwood floor in your socks into Yeosang’s arms, giggling all the while. He gave you a big hug, patting your hair. You were so grateful for him.

You and your roommate San had made a little trip to Ikea to get a new vanity for your bedroom, and he had agreed that he would help you put it together. You had been slowly redecorating your room for the past few months now, and you were quite happy with the way it was coming along. The new vanity was just one final piece that you needed, along with a new bed frame and a couple of posters you had already ordered. You and San were dumping out the contents of your old vanity one drawer at a time, making piles of what you did and didn’t need to keep, as you hadn’t cleaned it out in as long as you should’ve. It had been probably 6 months or longer since you had cleaned out the vanity, and some of the makeup in it had probably expired by now, so San was checking the expiration dates on each product and making piles of what was still good and what was bad. You were going through other junk drawers including perfumes and skincare and doing the same. Suddenly you heard a gasp from San. You looked up to find a small bag in his hands, a bag you unfortunately recognized. “Y/n… What is this?” San muttered, a waver in his voice. It was a bag you used to keep razor blades in, and you hadn’t used them in a very long time, but you had never gotten around to disposing of them either since you had honestly forgotten about them. “Sannie, it’s not what it looks like, I promise i’ve been clean for a long time.” He met your eyes, and you swear you saw his eyes watering just slightly. “You promise?” “I swear. I’ll throw them away right now.” He wipes his eyes and stands, marching over to your bathroom. You follow behind him, and he dumps the contents of the bag into the toilet. He gives the blades a little wave before flushing them down. “Fuck those guys.” “Agreed.” “Promise me you’re okay, though?” “I promise, Sannie. “ He pulls you into a big hug.

Your roommate Mingi had brought you along to a party to get you out of the house. You didn’t mind it, you enjoyed parties, but since you had agreed to be the designated driver, you were holding back from drinking tonight. That didn’t stop you from dancing and having fun with Mingi and the rest of his friends. As the night continued on, you found yourself in a little group with Mingi and some of his other guy friends. Mingi was a little buzzed, and he was getting loud. Some of his friends were joking about Mingi being emo, and he loved that. “I love emo. I wanna be emo.” He slurred just a little bit, and you smiled at him. One of his friends looked over to you and sneered. “Your friend here is already emo, though.” The guy said. You were confused, there wasn’t anything inherently “emo” about your appearance, you were wearing a black sweater, but that was the extent of it. The guy and his other friend snicker, before the other guy lets out a joke. “Wrist check, am I right?” You were appalled. You had no idea how they knew about that, unless one of them saw your scars by accident when you hadn’t noticed. You were pissed. Mingi was just confused. You stormed off without a retaliation. You went out into the front yard to get some fresh air, and Mingi stumbled after you. “What happened? What does that mean?” He slurred. “Don’t worry about it Mingi. They were just being mean,” you explained. “I’m confused.” He whined. You turned to him and just looked at him with a pained expression. He really had no idea. “Look, Mingi, they were making fun of me for having self-harm scars.” You explained. His jaw dropped; he was shocked. He grabbed your hand. “I'm so sorry, Y/n, I had no idea. Those guys are assholes. I should go in there and-” “Mingi, no. It’s over now. Let’s just not hang out with those guys anymore.” “Deal. Are you okay? You don’t- you don’t do that anymore, do you?” He sounded concerned, like he had suddenly sobered up in the last few seconds. “I’m okay. It’s been a long time, but I'm doing better now. I just have old scars now, so now all I have to deal with is stupid people.” You told him. “That's good. I’m proud of you. And next time I’ll beat anyone’s ass that mentions them.” He grabs your hands in both of his and leads you back into the party.

It was nearly two weeks before halloween, and you and wooyoung were in a rush to find the perfect costumes for a party you were both attending. Wooyoung, as your best friend and perfect roommate, was trying to convince you to wear something sexy and revealing to impress this guy you knew would be attending the party. He had helped you pick out a somewhat skimpy angel costume, a cat costume with more leather than you knew what to do with, and a cop with a quite short skirt. Honestly you felt a little ridiculous. Wooyoung was trying on all sorts of scary masks and hyping you up about your costumes, but you were worried about how you’d look in them. You found your way to the dressing room while Wooyo looked through various prop weapons. You breathed in deep and let it out, looking over the costumes Wooyoung picked out for you. You know he just wanted to help you look hot, but you of all people definitely weren’t going to look like the models on the packages. Your body just didn’t look like that. As you pulled on the first costume, a short white dress with cute little angel wings and a little angel halo headband, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It looked alright, but the dress didn’t fit quite right. It didn’t lay the way it was supposed to and it rode up in certain places and it just didn’t look the way it was meant to. With a huff, you pulled the dress back over your head and moved on to option two. It was a leather catsuit with some cat themed accessories. You pulled on the catsuit, but it was the same thing as the dress. It just didn’t look right. Something about your body looked off. Something was wrong, but you couldn’t place your finger on it. You felt tears prick at your eyes as you pulled the catsuit off, getting ready to pull on the third costume. It was a short cop dress, and you just couldn’t stand the way your legs looked in it. At this point, you were really upset, and you hiccuped out a sob. You covered your mouth with your hands, hoping Wooyoung wouldn’t hear, but to no avail. In seconds, he was knocking on the dressing room door, worried. “Y/n?” Are you okay?” He called out for you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m almost done.” You told him, but your voice was thick with tears. “Are you crying? Let me in.” You sighed but you opened the door for him anyway. He caught a look of the cop costume you were wearing and gave you a once over. “Woah. You look hot. Why are you crying, babe?” He enveloped you in a hug. “I don’t feel hot.” You hiccuped into his shoulder. He hummed in understanding. “I get it.” He placed his chin atop your head. “Your brain is telling you one thing, but I just want you to know you look so incredibly beautiful and this costume would totally kill any man who saw you in it, including me.” “Thanks, Wooyo. I just don’t think I’m confident enough to wear this kind of costume yet. They’re cute and all, but not for me.” “Then does that mean we can wear one of those stupid cheesy couples' costumes?!” He grinned at you. “Fine, Wooyoung.”

You wake up with a splitting headache. You immediately regret drinking as much as you did last night. It was fun while it lasted, but it had horrible consequences this morning. There was a cold bottle of water and ibuprofen on your nightstand, probably courtesy of your angel of a roommate and designated driver from last night, Jongho. You down half the bottle with the ibuprofen and try to sit up out of bed while the room spins. Suddenly, you feel the urge to vomit, so you rush to the bathroom. You lose all the water you just drank, but your stomach was empty otherwise, so it's just water and bile. You feel tears prick at your eyes. You hate throwing up. You’ve been doing so well in bulimia recovery for so long and this feels like a setback, you know you can’t help it because you're hungover, but it makes you want to cry. You throw up one more time and let out a sob. The headache only pounds harder against your skull with every heave, until you hear a knock at the door. Jongho shouldn’t have to see you in this state. You try to bite back another sob, but he pushes the door open just a bit. “Are you alright? I thought I heard crying?” He questions. “I’m okay. Just hungover.” You sniffle. He pushes the door the rest of the way open and hands you another cold water bottle. “Why are you crying, angel?” He squats down in front of you and gently caresses your face. His hand is cool against your warm face. “I just don’t feel good, Jongie.” You hiccup. You don’t know how to tell him you’re terrified of throwing up. “Why don’t we get some food in you and maybe that’ll make you feel better? Hmm?” He gently grabs your hand and pulls you up from the bathroom floor. He pulls your arms over his shoulder and leads you into the kitchen, setting you in one of the chairs. He even brings the trashcan over to you just in case. He pulls out all the ingredients to make your favorite waffles. “I’m just scared of throwing up. I’ve been doing so well for so long and I’m so scared this is gonna set me back.” You explain once the room stops spinning. Jongho sets down the spatula he’s holding. “I get that. I just want you to know I see how well you’re doing and I’m here for you. We can get through this together. You can do this; I know you can.” He sets down a plate of warm chocolate chip waffles in front of you and you feel the nausea leaving you. “Thanks, Jongie.”

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic #hongjoong #choi san #yeosang #seonghwa #yunho #wooyoung #jongho #mingi

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tungtung-thanawat · 9 months

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The 25th hour and the kindness Boston unwittingly pays forward to Sand

The 25th hour is such a neat yet complex concept. The fact that Sand's episode is called 'The Extra Hour' and that this extremely rigid, disciplined man's 25th hour is Ray is at once heartwarming and gut wrenching. I've seen multiple people discuss what the 25th hour is and most interpretations were to my surprise very positive! In fact, when I think back to my reaction to the start of the episode I thought it was delightful! What a delightfully irrational way for Sand to think of Ray's role in his life, for a delightfully irrational man who really needs a little bit of magic and fairy tale in his life. And yet by the end no matter how you slice it, the only thing about the 25th hour that stays absolute till the end is that it's not real. There's no such thing as a 25th hour. Whatever was happening between them was happening entirely within the 24 hours of their lives and neither were able admit to it. There is a separate meta to be written about how there are elements of healing in their relationship - definitely for Ray and maybe even for Sand who benefits from being near someone who prescribes to whatever the opposite of his 'The Grind and Hustle' lifestyle is. But there are two sides to every coin and the side that Sand had completely blinded himself to even thought it was all right there - long before Boston showed up - is that Ray is an addict. And the way Ray chases the pleasure impulse of Sand's company is - more than just a little mildly concerning. Both times that they engage in anything sexual is Sand giving and Ray receiving, but more importantly Ray talking Sand into it - not in any way that is even remotely close to coercive but doesn't it niggle at the back of your head a little - just how good Ray is at getting Sand to do things for him? I could let the list run from protecting him, cooking for him, driving him, putting on his helmet for him, dressing him, taking him to concerts all such wonderful beautiful, heartwarming, wounded inner child healing things and yet...there are patterns. 'Thank you for saving my life' once is beautiful, sexy, gut wrenchingly vulnerable. But twice?

The guy did have a bottle so it could have been dangerous and his target could have been Ray's head but he also could have smashed it on a table to scare him, on his back, heck he could have been going for Sand too. Doesn't Ray have a tendency to slightly embellish situations to make himself more sympathetic?

My boy Sand has literally been on the receiving end of it adjfkldshjf. Further, when Sand is aiming to bash the guy's head in turn Ray makes zero moves to stop him. Sand could get into a lot of trouble for intervening here and injuring a random customer while he's not bar security and P'Yo and her boyfriend are the only ones actually concerned about Sand here.

Ray is so turned on by his man going all psycho to protect him (understandable) that his only thought is to fuck him (also very very understandable) but he's just gotten so good at asking for it

Incredibly, incredibly good

And he knows how much Sand eats it up

He knows it turns Sand on, uses it repeatedly in the context of sex. In fact it's the only way we've watched him initiate sex this episode

And worst of all, in the times that Sand doesn't quite take the bait Ray knows how to frame it so that it somehow still becomes Sand's idea, Sand's initiative:

And this scene is so mind bogglingly sexy that I was legit SCREAMING because Ray is being SO sneaky and he's an addict and you can see it from a mile away and imagine being Sand and horny and turned on by how much people need you and then having the cutest puppy of a man constantly wagging his tail at you and needing you and being so generous about how much he appreciates you and constantly telling you how big and strong you are and how you're such a great protector like help this man he is so entirely caught in the web that Ray is spinning. I was so into it but I was also like alarm bells ringing like 'Fire! Fire! Fire!' Sand this is exactly the fire that you were once conscious of playing with but he's totally been blinded to it - how could he not be??? Ray is an addict but he's also a creature made entirely of love, what defenses can Sand possibly have against Ray's innocence and sincerity? This has already gotten so long that I need to stop here or my mind will explode but there's more to be said here about how that scene where Boston outs Ray's crush plays out and Ray's complete inability to reach out and comfort Sand. What I can end this part with is that - Sand really, really needed to hear it. Boston's whole 'Sand deserves to know' thing might have been the shittiest cover to his real motivations of just totally fucking up Ray's life but he's not wrong about this. Boston is not wrong about the farce of Sand and Ray's relationship that he so mercilessly calls out. The 25th hour isn't real and Sand knows it. The show is very heavy handed about it and it fits so goddamn well with my Sand and Mew don't exist on the same paradigm of Ray's life idea that I have been peddling since Ep2

#ofts meta #sandray meta #only friends the series #ofts #sandray #nani's hot takes #god i have more meta inside me than i have time #i might write some of them anyway #but also feel free to ask about things too if you're curious

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puuta-heinaa · 2 months

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Joker Out, Paris (Café de la danse) 22.3.2024

I arrived at the venue around 14ish, and was third to last in the EE queue. However queueing is part of the party! I exchanged sooo many bracelets and met amazing people, some of which I just met that day, some I knew from Discord or tumblr or earlier gigs, couldn't have been happier. Got selfies with Bojan and Jan?? Hug from Bojan??? HELLO. That would never happen in Finland. I described his hug as jämäkkä and turvallinen, which roughly translates to sturdy and safe.

Some of the bracelets I made for the concert!

Met someone in the queue who had hawk's eyes and who encouraged me to go and ask for a selfie with Jan, and later on she spotted Bojan on the street 100 m before everyone else did. I had a chance to give Bojan 3 2 ananaslonkero -bracelet that I'd made, with a tiny drink charm. If the main joke in fandoms is that a hug from your blorbo would cure you? well it's true. Getting a hug from Bojan removed some stiffness between my shoulder blades that I didn't even know was there. It was literally easier to breathe after the encounter. I also kept vigorously shaking for 3-5 minutes afterwards, so much that some people asked if I'm ok. Just released years worth of trauma ig. Also LOTS of happy hand stims throughout the day, my autism was showing lol.

Jan was outdoors SMOKING!!! And Bojan had charmingly dirty hair! He was taller than I had thought.

ANYways the gig !! I ended up on Jance side, which was nice as I was on Kris' side in Helsinki. Whole stage was about as wide as K-18 section at Kultsa, and I think they suit better on smaller stages.

We got Vem da Gres and Gola in soundcheck! I was wearing Vem da gres -bracelet that I got in Helsinki a few weeks ago and thought about that person for a few seconds!

Gola was ok. Bojan got disney mickey ears, and he was wearing my 3 2 ananaslonkero bracelet. Bojan also got a maca plushie that he was NOT scared of, he even made it fly.

Kris left the stage as soon as the last notes of Gola were over, other boys stayed jamming in accelerating speed for couple of more minutes. I showed them my UM sign that only read "I want to sing UMAZAN" at that point. :')

20h02 was ok, didn't connect with their music at all though. JC Stewart seemed a bit sick, but sounded good nevertheless. Finished my sign.

They started with Katrina and Bele Sanje, and people were singing even guitar riffs along. Dopamin hit like dopamine followed by Ne bi smel, Nace was staring at me several times during those songs.

Liinu's superb edit of staring sc Nace and struggling Kris and Arcti's edit about Jan's forgotten library books made my day

People were already singing along to Sta bih ja, and Bojan was sooo happy (and sweaty. We were all very sweaty, the concert hall was ridiculously warm.). Kris disappeared for a moment in the beginning of Sta bih ja, and Bojan looked like a lost puppy (wait, where is kris?? about 5-10 seconds into sta bih ja). Bojan said Kris didn't like how Jan played the riff and that's why he left the stage :P. Jan flipped a bird to him.

Decibels raised by about 20 when they played Ona and Demoni. Turns out they might be the easiest to sing along for absolutely everyone, not just for people who speak Finnish. Bojan looked me directly into eyes during second verse of Demoni for several seconds, and I felt so seen (in a good way). EE was definitely worth its price.

In Helsinki I felt like the setlist was over before it even started, but in Paris it felt more like we were really dancing and playing until the stars fade. I think it had something to do with how much they interacted with each other and with the public during each song. In Helsinki they seemed like they had forgotten how to be on stage, and there was just TOO MUCH SPACE, whereas Paris had Nordic Tour energy.

They all moved a LOT on stage!! Kris was on jance side several times! Nace had a mating dance thingy going on with Kris at least twice, Jan once. Jan interacted with the public on Kris's side a few times. Bojan almost run into Kris at one point - no wonder he caressed Kris's arm to let him know he's there before grapping his hips?? and dancing behind him??? during Behind those eyes. It's cafe de la danse after all.

Def thinking "THIS is how we'll trend on tumblr tonight" right after the famous dance

Everybody's waiting and soooooo many people raised hands when Bojan asked in his spiel before the song if anyone here suffers from panic or anxiety attacks, and I think it made everyone feel less alone. He sang I'm the problem it's me -line to make things a bit lighter before proceeding to the song.

We got Omamljeno Telo and I felt SOOOO HAPPY (but also sad for Moonu) but also SOOOO HAPPY it was on the setlist, I think I screamed VITTU JES on top of my lungs (manifesting it for Ruisrock huh). Famous water spray on Jan during OT, and it shows I've grown old, because instead of "yeeeess I want Bojan's spit on me" I went "rat disease, why am I not wearing a mask".

Everyone sang along during CD, not in French though even if there was a fanproject French translation published a whole 28 hours before(....). Plastika hit like a hammer once again, but I think I was already waiting and stressing for UM, so I didn't mosh for example. Which, good idea, because my neck was soooo sore after Helsinki.

Bojan announced the karaoke song, and asked which versions we have today. He saw my sign, asked "Slovenian version?", to which I "said" (from 4th row on Jan+Nace side) Finnish version, and he heard it and corrected himself and said perfect. I was not afraid at all even if I knew I'm probs going to sing in front of about 500 people in 5ish minutes???? How??? I'm usually a ball of anxiety but here I was just proud and excited to sing my version of it.

I loved the Bretogne/French version (I've still no idea what were the words, but it rhymed super well and she sang well, but that was def NOT paris region French), cringed at some of the "translations" because they did not fit the lines and did not rhyme, sang along to Slovenian versions in Finnish, felt bad for one of them as the karaoke singer started at the wrong moment and Bojan spent most of their special moment trying to orchestrate the band.

When Bojan approached with "I think we still have a Slovenian version, OH NO, A FINNISH VERSION" I chortled, and felt the last bits of nervousness disappear. (Cue "some boat, titanic, oh no".) I had my ACTUALLY finger pointing moment, which, on point with my personality, telling him it's a hybrid version. I don't know what he meant with SUOMI SAA, but it was NOT full-on Suomi SAATANA, that much is certain. I quite like the idea/interpretation he was making a pun with SAA(tan)Are you ready? But who knows. Sad about missed chance to answer "ArE YoU???" now that I think about it, but at least I wasn't the only one who failed the moment :') . Speaking of cursewords though, a histronic youngster next to me did shout vittu though! I loved my spot but she was super annoying throughout the evening.

The Finnish version is in the beginning of this one, and the Arabic version right after Finnish version is AMAZING. The French version is on the first part, as well as Bojan going "uuu Finnish version? perfect".

Started in Slovene, which made him have a Ok?? face, but when I switched to my own Finnish version that rhymes with the Slovene version, he raised his brows and seemed so impressed that I just nodded to him, sending telepath(et)ic messages that yes, our languages match and rhyme, about time you collaborate with Jere. I think he remembered I asked for a hug in the afternoon, because he did not hug everyone during karaoke. Afternoon hug was better btw.

I love his little surprised smile right when I finish the first Finnish line on this one

I usually think quite a lot about how other people perceive me, but now I didn't give a single fuck, just enjoyed being the main character for 20 seconds, having this interaction with my blorbo. Forever grateful for the 4 different angles I received from friends I made in the queue, and 1 from a random guy who asked me after the concert if I'd like to receive a video he took of me singing. Even Vita was filming the whole thing with her big light + camera + phone ensemble. I often sing in my car, and even IMAGINING i'm singing karaoke makes my voice suddenly tiny and weak and compressed, so I'm overflowingly glad it went this well, you have no idea even if I've just bragged about it for 4 paragraphs.

I later realised I was the only one who didn't hold the mic themself, this is a clear example how I objectify the boys, seeing Bojan just as a mic stand.🫣😵‍💫

I got fluent Kiitos from Bojan, that guy needs to move to Finland he speaks Finnish so well. Also LMAO I forgot to sniff him in the afternoon, now I'm praying the snifff I took after karaoke wasn't too evident and doesn't show on Vita's video……….. Jere is wrong, Bojan does not smell like shit, but there were no parfume smell either? He just smells like nothing in a pleasant, pheromone rich way lol.

my translation: Sanje so tvojega okusa Aamuihin taas tuoksusi Neula ei haarukassa Sieluni on hukassa Etsimässä tietään luoksesi

I haven't figured how to translate the first line. I've been playing with "Makus' on tarrannut uniini", but it does not rhyme with the og well enough. Otherwise super proud of my version. Neula and haarukka are parts of compass, basically saying the compass is layed on the map the wrong way. 🧭

This is how small the place was??? I was in 3/4th row, and the hat guy in the right corner was right behind me during the concert so the club truly was tiny.

Apparently bubbles were not allowed on stage in Cafe de la danse? But some people had brought their own so we had bubbles anyway.

Jure exchanged his drumstick to a breadstick. I laughed because a) it was a clever pun and b) such a stereotypically French thing to bring a BAGUETTE wrapped in a napkin to a concert. Also no wonder boys are always sick, I don't even want to know how many people touched that bread before it was on stage.

Life is pain (in mouths)

We waited for the boys after the concert outside the venue in the rain, and they walked past quite quickly. Bojan stayed for 30 seconds to take a group selfie. <3

Honestly so happy I traveled there and met amazing people and surpassed myself on so many levels.

I feel like 2004 again, because that's when I last made a post this long on livejournal and also when I last was this hyped about a group.

I loved band's AMAZING OUTFITS in Café de la danse, everyone had some idrija lace on them, and I'm afraid my next special interest will be bobbin lace.

#joker out #cafe de la danse #my concerts #sys tour #umazane misli #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #nace jordan #jan peteh #jure maček #metrijormaus

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earlgreytea68 · 10 months

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do you have a playlist of peterick songs 🩷

I don't actually have a playlist (my playlist is All Fall Out Boy Songs in one massive jumble lolol and MAYBE THAT IS THE PETERICK PLAYLIST) and I don't think I've really been asked this question before, but here's what I would say are my top Peterick songs:

Saturday: This is for obvious reasons for anyone who's been around, but if you're brand new here, the lyrics are Saturday are explicitly about the Patrick-and-Pete relationship ("Pete and I attacked the Lost Astoria with promise and precision and a mess of youthful innocence" / "Me and Pete, in the wake of Saturday"). They've said it's the first song they felt like they successfully collaborated on without throwing punches at each other lol. They play it at the end of almost every single concert and Pete abandons his bass to stand right by Patrick before he wanders out into the crowd. Sometimes he puts his elbow on Patrick's shoulder and shimmies his hip. They also, when they perform it, make sure to shout "more than an hour" at each other, no matter where they are on stage (and they are COMMITTED to this bit, we've seen them almost miss it on this tour and scramble to make the eye contact). Patrick also always points to Pete wherever he is on the stage when he sings "Pete and I," so we're clear who he's singing about. It's charming. Also, in the video, Pete and Patrick turn out to be the same person, and...let's just leave that there for now.

It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love: The lyrics of this song are absolutely wild. "Why can you read me like no one else? I hide behind these words, but I'm coming out." For real, Pete Wentz? "We'll make them so jealous, we'll make them hate us." REPEATED MANY TIMES. Ugh. "Think of all the places where you've been lost and found...out." REPEATED TWICE. With so much emphasis on being found out. Not just found, the word always hangs as the would-be conclusion, and then the out is such a definitive stamp at the end. I don't know what these lyrics are other than wrestling with the fact that you're in love with your best friend and wondering about your sexuality, just saying lol

I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song): I know that other people have other interpretations of this song, but to me "joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of 'best friends'" is super Peterick-coded. Also the parenthetical of "Summer Song," again, I know other people have other interpretations but to me Patrick is always represented by summer in Pete's lyrics (the way he is also sunshine and golden).

7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen): I have an interpretation in this song that Patrick is the "you" in it. Patrick is the star he's trying to fixate on while his world is falling apart, Patrick is the one thing he wants to focus on to keep everything else out. Trying to forget everything that isn't Patrick, only it's not-working-not-working-not-working. "The only thing worse than not knowing is you thinking that I don't know": The way that Pete thought he had to be the Leader of this band, take care of this kid he'd forced into being the singer, and so even when he's a complete mess he's got to hold it together so Patrick doesn't realize it.

The (After) Life of the Party: I know what the official lyrics say but I've never heard Patrick sing that refrain clearly enough to convince me he's saying "cut it loose" instead of "could it last," and to me this song is the quintessential social butterfly / favorite dynamic, which is the Pete&Patrick dynamic. "Watch you work the room / could it last." Watch you blossom, will I lose you?

Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes: In Pete's own words, this is a song about anyone you feel close to. Sometimes for him it was a girl, but honestly, sometimes it's Patrick. So. Here's a song about Patrick, according to Pete Wentz. I'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet.

What a Catch, Donnie: The song Pete explicitly wrote for Patrick. "All I can think of is the way I'm the one who charmed the one who gave up on you." In my head, this convoluted sentence is Patrick struck by how much Pete is charmed by him, and how much Pete gives up on himself. Also, the video has Pete putting himself on a sinking ship and leaving Patrick with all their friends as they shove off into the hiatus and whatever, I can't deal with any of this hahaha. THE SONG ENDS WITH A MEDLEY OF THEIR GREATEST HITS TOGETHER, whatever, this stupid song, I honestly thought the fact that this was the last single before hiatus had to be made up lol

"From Now On, We Are Enemies": A hiatus-era release titled for a movie about an intense artistic relationship. A refrain that's about the composer who's never composed who has to sing the symphonies of the overdosed. And the problem is they only want what they can't have.

Miss Missing You: The song in which Patrick sings about being saved by hot whiskey eyes. Please Google "hot whiskey," and then take a look at Pete Wentz's eyes. This is another thing I can't deal with lol. Also, the "miss missing you" is an explicit response to a poem Pete wrote to Patrick before the hiatus, in which Pete said, "I miss you missing me." Patrick responds with the song, "I miss missing you." THESE TWO.

The Kids Aren't Alright: First of all, they very frequently and consistently have referred to their fans as "the kids" since day one, so there's that. Which kids aren't alright? Ours. Shut up. "And in the end, I'd do it all again, I think you're my best friend." WHATEVER.

Fourth of July: Again, I know other people have different interpretations of this song, but for me this song is soooo Peterick. It's the summer reference again, but it's also hiatus-y to me. "We were fireworks that went off too soon." "I said I'd never miss you but I guess you never know." Pete got vicious and angry heading into hiatus and burned everything down, but you know what? "May the bridges I have burned light my way back home." "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean any of it." I could go on and on about this song, I love the words to this song, but I just want to say, "I'm sorry every song's about you," is just...a lot. And then followed by "the torture of small talk with someone you used to love," and if that doesn't smack of the awkward end of the hiatus, Idk.

Twin Skeleton's (Hotel in NYC): There is a LOT in AB/AP, a LOT that these boys seem to be working through, and it's a lot of hiatus feelings, and this song always makes me think of everything breaking down. "I need a new partner in crime, and you -- you shrug"????? THIS LINE KILLS ME EVERY SINGLE TIME. And it's really a song about trying to hold everything together ("hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on," it says over and over) but everything is still falling apart into dramatics ("I can just die laughing on your spiral of shame" is another line that hits like a slap in the face).

Bishops Knife Trick: Pete Wentz in the early 2000s, famously: I'm only gay from the waist up. Pete Wentz in the late 2010s, in a lyric: I'm in spiritual revolt from the waist down. Honestly, enough said.

Hold Me Like a Grudge: With that "thaw out my freezer-burn feelings from 20 summers" early on, this song is setting us up for being a song at least about Fall Out Boy, but "part-time soulmate, full-time problem" sounds like it's probably just about one person lol.

Heaven, Iowa: This song is a love song and to me it's their love song and that's just all I have to say actually hahahaha.

Okay, this was quick, I'm sure people have more! The joy is how ambiguously the lyrics can all be interpreted.

#peterick #long post #fall out boy #fob

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metallicaislife · 7 months

Text

Dreams

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut minors dni

Word Count: 1,226

Warnings: ouid usage, oral(f receiving), p in v sex, m x f pairing

“Oh yeah.. right there…” Cliff groaned.

I was currently rubbing a knot out of his shoulder. Cliff and I met when we were teenagers. I was alone at a concert and he just started chatting with me. Turns out we went to the same school but he was a grade above me. We’ve been inseparable since. It has always been mostly platonic. I say mostly because there have been a few times I feel like we could be more, but nothing has ever happened.

I pat Cliff’s back twice to indicate I was done. He leaned his head back, resting between my legs as he was sitting in front of the couch.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled. The urge to just lean down and kiss him was so strong. He stared a second longer before lifting his head and standing up.

“I probably ought to head out. We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?” Cliff asked as he grabbed his jacket.

“Yup. See you tomorrow. Get home safe.” I waved from the couch.

“See ya.” He called out as the door closed.

“Urrgggghhhhhh!” I let out a frustrated noise and hit a couch pillow. Why does he have to be just so… Cliff! Right there and yet completely out of reach. Annoyed, and tired I got ready for bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I rented a couple movies, ones we had and hadn’t seen yet. Movie nights with a smoke sesh and snacks were one of my favorite activities with Cliff.

I heard my door open and I went to greet him.

“Hey Cliff!” I grinned, going in for a hug. His eyes met mine, and there was a fiery glint in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before, as quickly as it came it went away.

“Hey, you.” He said and punched my shoulder softly.

I looked at my shoulder and then back to him.

“You good?” I asked, there was a cute blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” Was all he said as he pushed past me and into the living room. He went straight to work rolling the joint.

“How’d you sleep last night?” I asked as I collected the snacks from the kitchen.

“What? Why?” He asked sharply as I walked into the living room.

“Your back was bothering you, I was wondering if you slept well or not…” I explained setting down the snacks.

“Oh.” He chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, uh I slept well.” He finished and put his whole focus on the joint. My eyebrow furrowed. I’ve seen Cliff off before, but this was a new level of weird. I really didn’t know what to think.

“Okay, are you sure there is nothing wrong?” I asked him as I popped a movie into the tape player.

“Yup.” He responded. I rolled my eyes and dropped the subject. I sat next to him on the couch.

Cliff finished rolling the joint and lit it taking the first hit then passed it to me. I inhaled, then blew out coughing a little. We passed it back and forth in silence. Cliff put it out and I pressed play on the movie.

“Okay but is that realistic, would that happen in real life?” Cliff complained. I’d chosen a cheesy romcom, much to his dismay. But it was always fun picking them apart.

“I mean, I don’t know.” I laughed, “Haven’t you ever had your birthday forgotten, then the dreamboat you’ve been crushing on creepily loans his girlfriend to the nerdy guy?” I asked, Cliff laughed.

“Oh yeah, at least twice.” Cliff rolled his eyes, “It would be more realistic if they were best friends, you know actually knew each other, then one of ‘em had a dream about the other.” He said. My eyebrow furrowed.

“Go on.” I said. He turned to look at me, then seemed to process what he had said.

“Ah, nope dunno where that thought process was going.” He straightened up as we had melted together. I sat up turning to him.

“Have you had that experience?” I asked. Cliff firmly shook his head, but he refused to look in my direction. “Cliiiiiiiffffffff.” I said in a sing-songy tone. He bashfully looked over to me.

“We’re high, so you can’t hold anything I say accountable.” He said.

“So what kind of dream was it?” I pushed.

“We were doing stuff.” He said, the blush from earlier in the evening came back to his cheeks.

“What kind of stuff?” I asked him. His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

“We were fucking.” He said, his demeanor changed. That fire that had passed through his features earlier was back.

“Was I on top, or you?” I asked, not breaking eye contact.

“I was.” He answered. His eyes flicked down to my lips and back up.

“Were we kissing?” I asked him. He nodded. “Where were we?”

“Your bed.” He replied.

“Why don’t you show me? I’m more of a visual person.” I said, I have no idea where this confidence was coming from. However I’m not going to blow this chance, I know both of us have been waiting for.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I replied. I stood and held my hand out to his. He took my hand and stood. He brought me into him and leaned down placing his lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I’ve thought about kissing Cliff hundreds of times. My imagination is dull compared to the real thing.

A trail of clothes led to my bedroom. I was on my bed, legs spread as Cliff ate me out with such fervence. My back arched as I moaned loudly. My fingers tangled in his hair. He groaned against my pussy. He finger fucked me as he sucked my clit until I came writhing against the bed. He kissed up my body until our lips met in a passionate kiss. My hands trailing up and down his back. He groaned into the kiss as he rubbed his dick through my folds. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes staring into mine as he sunk in. I threw my head back as he found a comfortable pace. His lips attached to my neck as he left marks.

“So fucking beautiful. Taking my cock so well.” He praised me.

“Feels s’good.” I moaned. I wrapped my legs around his waist, he picked up his pace. I screamed as I came for a second time. Cliff came shortly after. He pulled out and rolled off of me, he pulled me with him bringing me into his embrace.

“So much better than my dream.” He muttered as he placed a kiss on my sweaty forehead.

“Don’t be so bashful about it next time, I’m more than happy to recreate it.” I grinned and kissed his chest.

“Noted.” He chuckled as he drew soft shapes on my back. “Have you had any?” He asked. I buried my face in his chest and nodded. “Well then I guess we’ve got some more recreations to get to.” He rolled us back over and nibbled on my neck. I laughed squirming underneath him.

“Let me cool down first.” I laughed. He looked up, his eyes full of mischief. I knew then, I was in for a long night.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

#metallica #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica scenarios #metallica smut #cliff burton #cliff burton x reader #cliff burton smut

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 7

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Canon typical violence. WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS! Kidnapping, torture, burning victim with cigarettes, broken bones, a whole lot of gun pointing and talk about murder, medicine by injection. Summary: When the divide between you and Jack becomes big enough that a well-intended question causes an explosion of anger, you decide to get out of dodge for a while. Unfortunately, this decision has consequences that neither of you could ever have anticipated. Notes: I cried writing it, I cried editing it, I cried putting this post together. Consider yourselves warned.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

It's been a month and Jack Daniel's is a miserable fucking bastard. You've been told about the marks being detrimental to his job and refuse to get rid of the tattoo or the scars. Claiming that it wasn't your problem, and he considers that to be true, even if it pisses him off because he can't escape you. Stuck here at Statesman and being a firsthand witness to you dating. He swears he's seen half a dozen different men picking you up from your cabin and every goddamn time his stomach churns with jealousy until there's nothing left to do except get blindingly drunk.

There have been good days and bad ones, of course. You and Jack don’t ignore each other but you don’t ever do anything more intimate than having an occasional drink or taking a break from your day to have lunch together if he stops by the restaurant. Your staff has been hired and menu set, interior painted and linens picked out. Now that opening is just a few weeks away, it’s about finalizing and finesse, and your staff has been amazing.

The dating has been…touch and go. You had gone out with Ginger’s brother Lewis on almost every night of his visit, enjoying each other’s company much more than you had expected. Apparently he was just getting out of a relationship and had accepted Diana’s attempt to fix the two of you up gratefully. Without any kind of stress as to whether or not the relationship would be perfect – or even lasting – you and Lewis were able to have fun and relax on the nights you went out together.

With Jack not wanting to have anything romantic to do with anyone else especially and including you, you had no reason to say no to most of the invitations you got after that. A concert or a dinner or a movie or a special event - they were all nice things and the men were equally nice about half the time. Sometimes they stayed over and sometimes they didn’t, but none of them ever saw you more than twice. The guilt and the regret would creep in, reminding you that you have a soulmate and that he’s a good man, even if the two of you are at odds. The fact of the matter is, even with the casual and extremely platonic time that you spend with Jack, you do find yourself falling for him a little more every day. Whether that’s because you’re bound to him or because you just do love him, you really can’t be sure. And it wouldn’t do you any good to say anything anyway. So you do what Statesman employees do best and drink away the guilt.

******

Jack sighs, rolling his shoulders back before he opens the door to his house and steps outside to face the day. This time of year seems to weigh heavily on him and it doesn't help that he had watched you disappear into your cabin with some man last night while he sat on his porch. Not seeing either one of you emerge when he had finally gone to bed well after midnight.

Catching sight of Jack as you leave your house in the morning isn’t uncommon, but today when you do, guilt pools deep in your gut. Waking up with someone other than your soulmate is a special kind of self-torture, and the green-eyed, blonde-haired man curled around you this morning definitely was not Jack. This morning when you glance toward his house, you accidentally catch his eye and end up awkwardly waving as you leave your house alone. The blonde had been politely kicked out before breakfast.

Jack sends back that half-hearted wave and tries to keep the scowl off his face for your sake. Knowing that you will think that it's directed towards you instead of towards the man who had snuck out of your house this morning with a jaunt in his step that Jack certainly recognized.

A thought has been gnawing on you for a while now, and you hustle to catch up to Jack on the sidewalk that leads away from Statesman housing and heads toward the main area of the company’s campus. Trying to maintain a friendship with Jack has been agonizing for you, as you realize the actual depths of your feelings for him, but you’re also trying to respect his wishes. If he doesn’t want to be anything but a platonic pair, you aren’t going to forcibly change his mind. Either he wants to be with you or he doesn’t. End of story.

He hears your quick footsteps behind him, the effort for you to catch up to him and Jack sighs to himself. Not in any kind of mood to play nice, not when he's going to see that 'freshly fucked' glow that you seem to get when you bring someone home. Acid churns in his gut and he wonders if he's developing heartburn for how often he's eating antacids to keep it moderately tolerable.

He slows down only slightly, but you catch up to him by just the last few steps that land much harder like a schoolgirl trying to casually match the stride of her upperclassman crush. It’s a fairly apt comparison for how you feel about him sometimes, but that’s not a thought you want to have to nurse today. “In a hurry today?” You ask, knowing he isn’t late for his usual day. His 9-5 is the same as yours.

"Just wanting to get my heart pumping." Jack doesn't look over at you. "Not getting much exercise being stuck behind a desk." He tells you. "Champ still won't clear me for field work."

That’s your fault. You know it is. You’ve had full conversations about it. But as long as Jack insists on acting like you mean nothing to him, you’re going to maintain the same behavior. If he doesn’t want a soulmate, then he doesn’t get any of the benefits of you being that person. Including, but not limited to, an understanding heart.

“I had something I wanted to ask you,” you admit, shoving your hands in your pockets as you walk. Something that is very much above and beyond the call of a normal friend, but you’re telling yourself that that doesn’t mean anything. He’s not the only person you’ll be asking about this, so it’s fine.

"What do you need to know?" Jack rolls his eyes, noticing that you are avoiding him mentioning the fucking tattoo, but he didn't expect you to.

“I know it’s not really your thing…” He looks annoyed, and you wonder if he didn’t get enough sleep last night or if he skipped breakfast. The fleeting thought that he might be jealous of your date is flicked away with the reminder that he doesn’t want to be connected to you. He’s probably glad you’re finally leaving him alone. “But I’m asking my friends, which you did say you wanted to be,” the reminder comes with an awkward smile that you drop when he doesn’t respond. “Gabriella’s birthday is coming up, so it jogged my memory. I’m just asking my friends what they want their birthday cakes to be this year so I can plan ahead.”

"I don't celebrate my birthday." Jack manages to say the words without anger or devastation in the inflection in his voice. "Don't worry about it, sugar."

“I know you had said that, but I thought…sometimes it’s worth revisiting an old tradition. Who doesn’t like cake and presents, ya know?” Walking beside him, you feel like you ought to be clutching your textbooks and twirling your hair or something equally ridiculous. But all you want is to show him that you’re not the enemy.

Jaw clenched, Jack stops short and whirls towards you, obviously startling you from the way that you jump but he doesn't give a damn. You just push and you push and you push, not giving a damn what someone else might want. "I don't fucking celebrate the day my goddamn wife and baby boy died." He growls furiously. "Forget the goddamn day exists."

You feel knocked over even though all you've done is freeze on the sidewalk, wide eyes staring at him in shock while you're not sure if your jaw is trembling in shock or dropped fully open. "I—" The way your chest clenches, it feels like you might dissolve inwardly. "I didn't know. I'm so...I'm so sorry..."

"You didn't know because you didn't give a fuck." Jack sneers. "All you care about is yourself, what you want. What you think is best, damned what anyone else might think."

"Where do you get that from?" From bottomless sympathy, you bounce back to shock in a very different way. "I was trying to do something nice for you!"

"I told you I don't celebrate and you couldn't let it go." He shouts. "You won't get rid of the fuckin' tattoo so I can do my goddamn job. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't hafta worry about a fuckin' soulmate because I would be dead like I deserve to be!"

"This is the first and only time I've asked since the day we met." This time you know for certain that your lip is trembling, and that it's from oncoming tears. Being screamed at is never something you've been able to take, and this is...it's Jack. Someone you want to make happy so desperately that you're doing things you actively hate in order to do it. "You didn't want a soulmate. You wanted to be friends. So that's all I've done."

“I do want a soulmate. I want my soulmate.” Jack fumes, eyes flashing angrily. “I want the woman who fucking died on my birthday because she was going to get the fuckin’ candles she had forgot to buy for my cake. For me. She died because of me! That’s the soulmate I want!” His own agony makes him blind to the fact that he is crying, tears rolling down his face and his heart about to fucking bust apart, but not because of Abigail, it’s from hearing you say that all you’re trying to do is be friends.

With both of you crying it's almost an exercise in futility to make sense of anything, or to try to hold a reasonable conversation, and you can feel yourself shutting down faster than lightning. The words are there, ringing in your ears, never ever to leave again. I want my soulmate. Not you. Never you. He wants his wife back and you're just standing in the way and insulting her memory purely by existing. "Right." You barely croak out the one syllable, nodding vaguely and already backing away from him while you try not to shake where you stand. "Th—that's...you..." Whatever sentence you were trying to form isn't happening, to the point where all you can think about clearly is how badly you don't want him to be upset with you anymore. And the only way to do that is to walk away. "I'm sorry." Are the only coherent words you manage to murmur, fleeing in the opposite direction as soon as you get them out.

Jack stands there for a few minutes, only moving to wipe away the tears when his breathing is relaxed. Dread curling in his stomach as he replays the cruel things he had said to you in his anger and sorrow. “Shit.” He hisses quietly, wondering if you would talk to him now, but he doubts it.

You have to get yourself under control before you make it to the restaurant, you know that. But the tears rolling down your cheeks are thick and angry and making it hard for you to think, and when you pull out your phone to send a text you can barely read the screen. Hopefully, even if it doesn't make sense, your brother will understand enough to call you later. It's Friday and you need to be anywhere but here this weekend. Hopefully his guest room is free.

******

Jack pauses outside the restaurant, knowing that he needs to talk to you again, but he can’t make himself go inside. He’s fucked this all up. He’s hurt you and his heart aches from that. Instead, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number that oftentimes he avoids like the plague. “Hey doc.” He greets the Statesman therapist when the call is picked up. “Do you have some free time? I need to talk.”

A two-hour flight to New York is nothing, but by the time you land it’s late and the sight of your brother standing at the gate waiting for you nearly brings you to relieved tears.

******

It’s not unusual that he doesn’t see you at night. His therapy session opening his eyes and making him see that he’s been very wrong, very cruel to you. Sighing, Jack pushes off the swing with his foot, the tall glass of Statesman in his hand as he watches your dark cabin. He knows you’re in there, the pinging on his phone showing that you are.

There’s no sign of you all the next day, or even the one after that. No movements from your house, no lights turning on or off, no television flickering or even anyone else’s car in the driveway. It’s like you’ve shut yourself inside and locked out the rest of the world.

Jack tries to go about his weekend, but his eyes still wander over to your place. Hoping to see you, not having enough courage to go over and knock. He knows you won’t answer the door and it’s not like he’s given you any reason to. So he waits for an opportunity to bump into you.

But when Monday morning comes, you aren’t there. The bracelet he gave you - the one that was presented as an apology for an argument but actually contained a tracker so he can keep an eye on you - hasn’t moved. According to that tracker you’re still in your house, but it’s 8:40 on Monday morning and you are never late. You should be closing your front door behind you right now to walk to work, but there isn’t any trace of you in sight.

“Fuck this.” Jack slaps his thigh and stalks across the small courtyard to march up your step and - it’s probably a little more forceful than necessary - he starts beating on your door. “Come on, sugar! Open the door!”

There’s no answer. No movement from within at all. A peak through the garage door shows your car sitting there as usual so it’s not like you’ve decided to break your walking tradition and drive to work.

“Damnit.” Jack shakes his head and presses the button on his watch. “Ginger, unlock cabin 6.” He orders, worry starting to curl in his gut though your marks are still on his skin.

“Roger.” Ginger’s voice comes through his com loud and clear and the locks on your front door click open obediently to allow him entry.

His search is quick, getting more and more hurried as he rushes through the space until he’s convinced you’re not here. “Shit.” Jack hisses, sweeping his hat off his head in a panic. “Shit!”

“Agent Whiskey. Report.” Ginger had left the com open when she unlocked your house, knowing Jack would never want her to do something like that for anything less than an emergency.

“Where the fuck is she, Ginger?” There’s an undercurrent of panic in his voice and the bracelet firmly in his fist. “‘Cause she ain’t here.”

"Come into the office," she urges him, knowing that tone in his voice after years of working together. "I'll see if I can track her down in the couple of minutes it takes you to get here."

“Find her now, Ginger.” Jack flies out of the cabin and his boots thump on the walkway as he makes for Statesman at a dead sprint.

The door to the lab slams open with a violent rattle five minutes later but Ginger barely moves in her seat. The control panel in front of her gives her domain across the myriad of screens mounted on the wall, most of which are showing traffic cam footage, sidewalk security footage, or even in-building security footage of you over the last two days. A flight itinerary is pulled up in one corner and the far-left monitor shows a string of text messages. "She went to New York City," Ginger tells Jack, her hands flying across her keyboard. "It looks like she went to see her brother after your last fight."

“How did— you know about that?” Jack huffs, slightly deflated as he catches sight of the texts that you had sent your brother and winces at the stark harshness of his words written out. “Shit. Can you track her phone? Where is she now?”

"I tracked her phone to a hotel in Times Square." That fact makes Ginger cringe, but she glances up at Jack cautiously. "She didn't get on her flight last night and she didn't change her ticket, either. When I called the kitchen with the pretense of wanting to invite her to lunch today, her sous-chef said she hadn't heard from her either."

“Fuck.” Jack shakes his head, pointing at her as he starts rushing for the door. “Get Pony Express fueled up and on the tarmac when I get there!” He orders as he dashes out of the room. In his gut he knows something is very wrong.

Jack dashes out of Ginger’s office right before she gets another ping on your information - something more than cell phone records between your family members like she’s seen this morning. This is a missing person’s report, filed by your brother with NYPD just a minute or two ago. “Shit.” Ginger mutters, furiously clicking at her control panel to notify the hangar to have the Pony Express ready so she can call Champ immediately.

Jack has never run so fast in his life. Breathlessly changing into his flight suit and bolting for the fighter jet. He knows something’s wrong. You would never let your kitchen be kept in the dark, no matter how upset you were with him. No, this is dangerous and it’s all his fault.

******

There are some things television is very informative about: interior decorating, cooking, fashion, even nature or manufacturing. But in no way, shape, or form does it prepare the unsuspecting person for what kidnapping might really be like.

The men who approached you after you left your self-indulgent solo dinner had been overbearing and pushy, asking for your number and where you were going, trying to get you to go with them willingly to their next destination - a bar you had never heard of. When you had politely refused so many times that you had to go from polite to insistent, the one standing directly in back of you had pushed the muzzle of a gun into your back while the leader ordered you to do as you were told so you wouldn’t have your spinal cord severed. In terror, you had obeyed.

The duct tape, zip ties, and blindfold were not enough, apparently. You had been gagged and starved, left tied to a chair in a room you could only describe as drafty and damp, and generally ignored excepted to be threatened periodically or violently interrogated whenever one of them got frustrated. You’re fairly certain that you now know what waterboarding actually is, but you’re grateful they haven’t done worse. The thing is — what they want? Is Jack. And there is no way you’re going to give them that. Even as angry as you can be with each other, if you didn’t realize that you loved him before now, this would have proved it. Literally willing to die for his safety, you haven’t said one coherent word to these mongrels since they shoved you into the back of an SUV in Times Square.

“Come on sweetheart…” The slow, condescending roll of the words come from your left where a man of middle-aged years is watching you, leaning back in his chair as your head swivels towards him. “All you gotta do is make a phone call. One thirty second call. You can be as damsel in distress as you’d like.”

With a gag in your mouth, you shake your head once to signal ‘no’ and raise your head again, determined not to cry this time. You have no idea how long you’ve been with these degenerates, but it feels like days - and you’ve definitely cried a lot during that time. So much that you’re starting to finally feel numb.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” mutters someone on your other side. The voice sounds younger. Angrier. And familiar. “She’s fuckin’ useless.”

“No, she ain’t.” There is a low, evil chuckle from the other man. “You said she’s his soulmate.” He hums, pleased with himself. “If she doesn’t want to cooperate, we’ll start shippin’ pieces of her back to him.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You blink back the fear, cut between the fear that that kind of stunt either wouldn’t work at all because Jack hates you so much, or that it would bring him straight into danger on Champ’s orders. Whoever that man is, he can’t know what Statesman really is - or is that exactly why they came for you? If you could fucking place his voice, that would be a huge goddamn help.

“Aw, look.” One of the other men snickers nastily. “Bitch is gonna cry again.”

There’s a round of chuckling, generally enjoying your fear and upset, “I bet it’s gonna eat him alive.” The older man snorts. “Buryin’ a second soulmate. Another one he couldn’t save.” There’s another round of amusement, harsh and cold. All of them in on a secret you don’t know.

“Go get some dinner.” The first man tells another. “I’m hungry. I’ll watch her, see if she’ll give in.”

There is a general sound of chairs scraping and boots on concrete, the sound of heels clicking so similar to the now-familiar sound of cowboy boots on the sidewalk. They keep you from responding with the gag, and the blindfold keeps their faces hidden, but they always want you to hear. It keeps you afraid, and fear is what they’re banking on. That fear will make you cave. What they don’t know is that your fear has more to do with not knowing whether or not Jack will even care that you’re gone.

“Has he fallen for you yet?” The question comes with a hint of irony in his voice. The need for information that would twist the knife deeper. “Or is he runnin’ from it to keep from gettin’ hurt?”

You can’t help that that brings a fresh set of tears. It seems to be the part of your body you have the least control over. Fucking tear ducts. But this guy’s seemingly endless need to talk and talk and make you as miserable as humanly possible has made you pay more attention to his voice over however long you’ve been here. Some of the others have slightly different accents - but this one is a cowboy.

“Mhm, running.” The deeply satisfied tone settles back slightly as he sits back in his chair and watches you, “just so you know it’s not personal.” He tells you conversationally. “I just want to see the poor bastard’s face as he holds another dead soulmate.”

Without this fucking gag in your mouth, you might have said something that would give you away. That would hurt Jack somehow or prove that you actually are useless to them. They don’t know that you’ve fallen for him despite your very best efforts, and they don’t know that he despises you simply for existing. He’s not running from anything – but you’re not Abigail, so you’re an insult to her memory.

“Oh hell, I’ll tell you since you aren’t leavin’ this room.” Alive is left off the end of the sentence, but the threat is clearly there. “I was the one who arranged for good ol’ Jack Daniels to lose his first soulmate. Her and the kid she was carryin’. Cherry on top of you ask me.”

Your eyes open wide against the blindfold, head snapping in the direction of the voice as he chuckles. The evil bastard is so goddamn pleased with himself. You could scream if you had breath, but the best you can do is fight against bindings that will never break.

“Bastard never even knew it, either. Dumb son of a bitch.” He huffs. “Bought the story of it being meth heads, robbing the store. Can you believe that? But it allowed me to attend the funeral. Watch his grief firsthand.”

Why? Is all you can wonder, as your mind races to try to figure out what the hell Jack could have done to warrant such a vast conspiracy before he was ever even a spy. Diana said Jack hadn’t joined Statesman until after his wife and son had died, so why the hell would anyone want to ruin his life when he was just a normal man?

“Jack Daniels is gonna fuckin’ pay,” the chair scrapes back and the sound of boots slowly comes towards you, ominous in how measured the steps are. “Maybe I’ll stage it for him. Write a note sayin’ how you couldn’t take being his soulmate.” He chuckles and his hand caresses the side of your face. “Pretty neck of yours will look good stretched out on a rope for him to find.”

You grunt, jerking your face away from his touch and wishing you could just scream at him. The muffled noises of frustration that do make it past your lips seem only to amuse him and you twist in your chair in a vain desire to lash out.

“Oh don’t be that way…” he tuts and bends down, smirking directly in your face even though you can’t see it. “You’d even be my type if you weren’t tied to that bastard. Maybe we could have some fun before your usefulness is done.”

That’s a line too far, and you instinctively start screaming, not like you’re trying to call for help but like you would call him every horrible name in the book if you could speak. There’s no way you can move but you take a chance, even knowing it’s a long shot. Reeling back as quickly as possible, you hit your head forward and manage to connect – head butting the bastard and making him stumble and fall backward into some nearby furniture, from the sound of it. Bastard.

“Bitch!” he growls, rushing forward and raising his hand. Bringing it down against the side of your face and slapping you hard enough to nearly knock your chair over. “Fuck with me and I start chopping you into pieces now!” He bellows.

Muffled and muted, the "Fuck you!" you scream as loud as you can is just clear enough to understand. You've gone from terrified to pissed, and it feels like a light switch has turned on inside you. These fuckers aren't getting shit from you. Not even another tear.

******

Honestly, Jack doesn’t remember a time when he’s pushed the Pony Express so hard. Finally setting down on the runway, he ignores the curious and awed looks of the grounds crews of the airport and starts looking around. “Where are my wheels, Ginger?”

"Rye is in the black SUV on the edge of the runway." Ginger fires back immediately. Champ had authorized the rescue mission immediately and sent one of the senior agents from the New York office to be at Jack's disposal.

“Goddamnit this is all my fault,” Jack spots the car and starts running, not bothering to change out of his flight suit. “She should be in her kitchen!”

"I've combed the security footage from Times Square." In his ear, Ginger is clicking through countless screens with images of you from all angles - a large number of them featuring a group of seven men and a large SUV that you appear to get into willingly. "She got into a slate gray SUV with a group of seven men on West 51st between 8th and Broadway."

“Who the fuck are they?” Jack demands, ripping the door open and jumping inside the car. He spares Rye a nod as he waits for his answer. “And did you track the SUV?”

“I’m working on the car. It drops off the traffic cameras after the Williamsburg Bridge.” A few clicks can be heard in the background and Ginger hums. “I have records on four of the seven men. Domestic, drug charges, firearms, breaking and entering, the usual gamut of ‘goon’ crimes. But…” she muffles a groaning sound. “Jack. Some of these guys are from your hometown…”

“What?” Jack slams his fist on the dashboard, sick that his suspicions are right. This is all his fault. “Give me their names.”

"Hank Rollins, Ben Jeffrey, Andrew Kelly, and Sean Perring. All from Lloyd, Montana." Ginger bites her lip, sighing at her screen. "On the sidewalk footage she appears to be going with them willingly, but from your reaction I'm guessing that isn't the case."

“Rollins.” Jack growls out, pissed off to hear the name after so long, thinking that he’d escaped the fucking family feud unscathed. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Hoped to never hear it again.”

“They’ve had her for nineteen hours now.” Ginger swallows, not liking how high that number is. “And we haven’t had a ransom note or a phone call of any kind.”

“Shit.” Jack shakes his head. “Take me to where she was taken. Now.”

Rye doesn’t hesitate, throwing the car into gear and heading for the road at a full tilt. Getting close to Broadway at any time of day is a task, but if they have to, he can pull any number of public safety tricks to be able to block off part of the area. Being a Statesman agent in New York City means having a few tricks up his sleeve. “What can we be expecting?” He asks Jack, wondering if the other agent might have an idea now that he knows some of what is going on.

“Anything.” Jack’s teeth grind together. “This is personal. A family feud over land disputes dating back to the fuckin’ 1800s.” Jack hisses, shaking his head. “I left the goddamn valley for a reason.”

“They grabbed her over a two-hundred-year-old land dispute?” Nothing should surprise him at this point, with what he’s seen as a Statesman agent, but Rye still huffs. “What the hell do they want you to do? Time travel?” It’s the absence of a ransom demand that makes him nervous. They took an agent’s soulmate and it’s not money they’re after.

“When my daddy died, I put the land in the hands of the ranch board.” Jack tells him. “I didn’t wanna fucking ranch, not after Abigail died. Rollins wants me to sell to him, but I can’t. It has to be passed down to blood.”

"So what's the idea?" Speeding through the streets as fast as possible without causing an accident, Rye keeps his eyes on the road but frowns. "Make sure she's out of the picture so there's no blood to pass it down to?"

“Did I mention that the entire Rollins family is as crazy as a fuckin’ loon?” Jack huffs, shaking his head and even more worried about you now that he knows that bastard is behind your disappearance. “Who the hell knows? Tried to claim I’d stolen his soulmate at one point.”

“Jesus.” The other agent huffs, continuing to weave their way through the thick New York traffic. “It’s up to you how you want to approach this,” he tells Jack honestly. “She’s your soulmate.”

“She doesn’t get hurt.” His answer is immediate, almost growled out. “Not a fuckin’ hair on her head.”

“Copy that.” His tone says everything, and Rye doesn’t ask any more questions. “We’ll get her back.”

Finally, the SUV comes to a screeching stop at the spot where you were forced into a vehicle. Jack throws open the doors and bolts out, eyes scanning the ground for something – anything. It's a long shot, but there's got to be something here that would show that you were here. Some marker. Anything.

Any street in New York City has trash and debris to a certain extent, and there are traces of people having been through the area just because of how much car and foot traffic moves through Broadway every single day. Broken bottles, cigarette butts, tissues, all the normal bits of peoples' lives that go by the wayside are littered about on steps and in sidewalk cracks. Candy wrappers or coffee cups by the curb. Rye combs the area for specialized clues – a name on a cup or a wrapper from a list of the favourite snacks listed in your file, but frustratingly finds nothing.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something here!” Jack huffs, kicking a trash can and there is the tiny clink of something metal being launched against it. “Fuck, what’s this?”

Rye bends over, swiping up the item as it glints in the sun. "Looks like a bracelet." He inspects it carefully, not finding a serial number or any indication of a designer, except for a small engraving in the tip that looks like a maker's mark. "Maybe Ginger can track down the manufacturer? It's a long shot that it will help, but it's something."

“It’s hers.” Jack stares at the inscription on the inside of the bracelet. “Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.” He reads aloud. “She—she showed me this. It’s a quote her grandmother would tell her.” His mouth is dry and he takes it from Rye to put in his pocket, determined to put it back on your wrist himself. “Let’s hope she can hang on. Just hold on, sugar. I’m comin’.”

"Whiskey. Rye." Ginger's voice in their ears makes both men's heads perk up, listening for a report from their eyes and ears. "The car registration belongs to a shell corporation owned by the Rollins family. They also own a shipping company with containers in the Brooklyn Navy Yard." She clears her throat pointedly. "Right off of the Williamsburg Bridge where we lost the car."

“Get us there now.” Jack points at Rye and starts running back to the Statesman SUV like his heels are being nipped by the hounds of hell. “Ginger, I need you to get me the specs of that building.”

"Sending them now." Her voice is accompanied by the sound of keyboard clacking as Rye and Whiskey jump back into the car, peeling back out onto Broadway to head toward Williamsburg. The heavy traffic doesn't part for them easily but Rye was chosen for this assignment specifically for his abilities as a driver.

“Ginger, is there any indication on how they know that I have another soulmate?” Jack demands, tensing the closer that he gets with every mile to the shipyard. He knows he will kill them; he’ll kill every last one of them to protect you. “They don’t seem to know I’m a fuckin’ spy.”

"I'm working on it." It isn't something that has been advertised, obviously, and Jack has kept his marks from you hidden since they first appeared on his skin. There are few people who know, most of whom have priority clearance. She's gone through all the background checks on the new Statesman employees and the places you frequent, all the men you've dated, even all the way back through the staff at The Whitney months ago who might have seen your marks on your first soulmate before the accident. Not a single red flag had risen, but Ginger hesitates for just a split second as she tries to think through more connections. There was one - just one – the newest line cook for The Rabbit Hole that makes her hesitate. "Have you ever heard her mention a man named Tripp Tanner?" Ginger asks, pulling up the file on the man once more. It's too pristine. Too squeaky clean. Too pitch-perfect. Like it's been manufactured.

Jack is ashamed to say that you’ve not been doin’ a whole lot of talkin’ around him. It’s not like he’s really encouraged close conversations. Keeping things as surface level as he could to not make it more difficult. Even though every day he aches and he hates that he aches. “No.” Though he recognizes the name, he can’t place it. “She hasn’t mentioned him. Why? Is he one of the ones she’s been…uh, seein’?” His ears burn slightly, noticing the way Rye’s eyes cut from the road to look over at him but he tries to ignore it.

"No, he—" Ginger hates that it makes her stammer, feeling like your dating is partially her fault because it started with her brother. "He's on her staff. The background check is clean and his resume is spotless. But it's too clean, so it's the best lead I have. I'm running him through Statesman facial recognition now." The Statesman database is far more complex and complete than any government or criminal database. If her gut feeling is right, it might kick up a result.

“Send me a picture of the boy.” Jack grunts, having already looked at the blueprints of the building where you might be. It’s better than you being in a random shipping container. They might never find you if that’s the case.

"His employee ID photo is coming through now." More taps come from Ginger's end of the conversation before a muffled shriek of dismay. "Shit. Jack— Tanner is from Lloyd, too. He changed his name from Rollins two years ago. Stephen Stuart Rollins the third - nickname Tripp - has a rap sheet a mile long."

“Son of a bitch.” Jack hisses, his grip on the dashboard nearly about to put an indentation in it. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t been avoidin’ her, I woulda recognized the bastard.”

"We'll fix it on this end, Jack." She promises him. "Just go bring her home."

“She hates me.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I was— I wasn’t very nice to her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll forgive you after you save her life.” Ginger sighs, watching the dot on her on-screen map that represents her two agents speed toward the warehouse where she’s figured out you’re being held. “Stop these assholes first, apologize second. She— she thinks you hate her. That’s what she told Gabriella, anyway.”

“I don’t hate her.” Jack grumbles, feeling guilty as hell because he knows that’s what it looked like.

“I would suggest telling her that.” Even though Ginger’s voice goes soft, she’s following their movements and watching the Navy Yard security cameras. “There’s movement at the building. I don’t see her, but I’m counting…six men outside the building.”

“Good.” Jack’s voice is grim and his brows are knitted together. “Every single one of them is going in the ground, Ging. This feud ends today.”

******

There is a group of men milling about around a large brick building with the number 31 painted above the bay doors. Cars parked haphazardly nearby with doors flung open present as frustratingly casual, but the large, dark gray van from the sidewalk cam footage is nowhere in sight.

“So what are we doin’ here, Whiskey?” Rye demands, slowing the vehicle down so it doesn’t look like they are barreling into the place. “Are we run in guns blazing or using some stealth?”

Every instinct inside him is screaming to run in guns blazing, but he can’t risk another man inside hurting you. “Shit.” He hisses. “Turn down the service road and park the fucking car.” He grunts. “We’re sneakin’ up on the bastards.”

The service road runs behind the old abattoir buildings and Rye tucks the car out of sight so he and Whiskey can arm themselves out of the trunk before coming up on the group of abductors. “Three doors on the blueprint.” Rye murmurs, tucking a Bowie knife into the sheath on his belt. “Those buildings are big, we gotta be methodical.”

Jack finally shucks the flight suit, changing into his standard jeans and a button up with a sports coat. His double six shooters tucked into their holsters and his electric whip and lasso tucked into his belt. “They are going to keep her somewhere small, like an office. Probably have her tied to a chair, the bastards.”

“I’m followin’ your lead.” Tucking a few throwing knives into the hidden pockets of his jacket for good measure, Rye nods for Jack to step out first. This is his operation and Rye will do what he needs to keep him covered.

He moves silently, deciding that he will pull his weapons later to get as close as possible without seeming suspicious. Crouching low enough that his knees protest, Jack skirts the edge of the loading docks and edges towards the northeast door. The one farthest away from the group out front.

There is no guard at the northeast door. The bastards obviously are either overconfident or underprepared, and Rye picks the padlock in record time to let Jack get inside with minimal noise. No alarm sounds, no person is alerted. It looks to be a storage room, and the two men pass through it easily to find a claustrophobic hallway waiting for them beyond the interior door.

There’s a muffled sound, Jack tensing and hisses under his breath when he recognizes the sound of screaming through a gag. “Fuck.” He murmurs, imagining all sorts of horrible things. “That way.”

The room where the noises are coming from is non-descript now, empty except for some card tables and chairs, and the remains of a meal spread out with some discarded firearms and a bag of who-knows-what open on the ground. Two large men are hunched in the center of the room. Deep, rumbling laughter rolls from them and cigarette smoke is pungent in the air as the muffled shrieks get slightly more panicked. Still blindfolded and gagged, the front legs of the chair that you've been zip-tied to almost constantly your arrival in this place have been broken, leaving you kneeling on the cement floor between the two of them. One who has decided to turn your shoulder into his ashtray, and the other who is deciding which fingernail to pull off with the pliers in his hand. Presumably to send to Jack.

“Shit, shit.” Jack hisses under his breath, the urge to rush in there nearly overwhelming but he doesn’t want to give them a chance to anticipate. Stealth is needed and he slowly starts to pull his pistols out but decides against it. He wants this to be more personal, so he reaches for the whip and lasso.

“I know, I know.” Rollins drawls, holding onto your left hand to inspect your fingernails. “Jack likes his girls done up, so not being able to have all your nails painted is gonna disappoint him.” He tuts, finally deciding that your pointer finger mail is long enough to get a good grip on with the pliers. You’re screaming and crying again after a few hours of putting on a brave face and he’s enjoying it. “If ya like I could just cut off the whole finger? That might be more fun for everybody.”

“More fun if you get the fuck away from her and face me like a man, Rollins.” Jack bursts through the door and squares up, his eyes not even looking at you as he focuses on the man responsible. “Always knew you were a chickenshit, but this is low even for you.”

Jack? You would know his voice anywhere, even as often as you’re at odds you’ve still memorized the tone and tenor. He came. He actually came. As fast as your heart was beating before, the pace doubles now and the tears soaking your blindfold are relief. He came for you. It might not say ‘love’, but it doesn’t say ‘hate’.

The deep, rolling, evil laugh that bubbles out of the man beside you is so pleased that it makes you physically ill just to hear. Rollins, as Jack calls him, drops your hand but stomps on the back leg of the chair you’re tied to for good measure - breaking it and sending you crashing to the ground with another scream. There is no way you can see what’s going to happen with the blindfold, but at least the two men have lost interest in torturing you for the moment.

“Daniels.” The game is up and if Rollins is surprised that Jack has found out that it’s him, he doesn’t show it. Too deep into his madness and he sneers at the man in front of him. “You came with a whip?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Always knew you were a fucking idiot.”

The man who had been standing in the other side of you drops his cigarette beside you - probably hoping to burn your clothes in the process - and squares his shoulders like he’s planning to make a run at Jack but isn’t sure he’ll win.

“I’m begging you too.” Jack growls out, wanting nothing more than to have them strike first. Give him a reason to cut them into pieces with his tech. Rye moves past the door behind him, intent on taking out the others while he saves you. “Do it.”

“Begging.” Rollins laughs again, taking a step forward. “Tripp, don’t fuckin’ move. Keep a gun on the bitch until I say otherwise.” The sound of the safety of a gun clicking is now intimately familiar to you and you squirm on the ground, trying to push your chair away from it even a little, but a pressure on your ribcage stops you. It’s unmistakably a foot. And you’ve only heard the name Tripp once in your entire life - meaning the jackass you hired to your kitchen to bolster numbers now has his goddamn boot in your side. You knew you recognized that fucking voice.

“It’ll be the last fucking thing you do, Tripp.” Jack hisses, keeping his eyes on the older, more unhinged brother. “Finally gone off the deep end, huh? What’s this all about?” He doesn’t know why the Rollins boys are after you to get to him. Doesn’t understand it. He’s not run the ranch since he was in high school.

"You're a hard man to get through to, Daniels." Hank tells him, smug smirk still painted across his crooked face. "Last time I had to talk real loud to make you listen. Figured I'd have to do it again."

His head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to figure out what he means by that. “Well, I’m here now. Whadya gotta say?”

"Y'all got something I want." And even after fifteen years, he hasn't figured out a way other than this to get it. Something that isn't criminal. "Now, the last time I made myself heard, you went off and skipped town with your tail between your legs like a spurned schoolgirl on prom night." Hank Rollins takes out his own gun, the pistol pointed directly at your head when he stretches out his arm. "But I'm sick and tired of a whole world that thinks the sun shines outta Jack Daniels' ass crack."

Jack’s entire world narrows and focuses on his words, taking them and twisting them in his mind. “The last time…” He growls. “My wife died in a fuckin’ robbery.” He hisses, fingers twitching on the whip and hovering over the button that would turn it deadly.

The way Hank Rollins laughs - the wicked, pleased, loathsome way he chortles at Jack's pain - almost makes you physically sick. "I love that you bought that," he gloats, taking another step toward the senior Statesman agent, ignoring his backup altogether if he's even taken a long enough look to see Rye in the room. "Hook. Line. And sinker. Goddamn beautiful."

“What did you do, you bastard?” His knuckles are practically white and he curls his lips back in disgust. “A pregnant woman? Why? What evil did I do to you?”

"You took what was mine." His free hand moves to his sleeve even as Jack watches him more carefully than a hawk. When Rollins rolls up his shirt sleeve, there is a scar there that is burned into Jack's memory as clear as day - Abigail was bitten by the neighbor's dog as a little girl and wore the scar for her entire life. "You brainwashed her against me. And you paraded my soulmate around town like your fucking prize, Daniels. That boy should've been mine, too."

“I wore her marks.” Jack hisses. “Every goddamn one of them and you know it! They would be gone if she was your soulmate.” He always thought Hank was insane, and this just proves it. The marks would have disappeared. They wouldn’t be there, just like they disappeared from Jack when she died. “But you mean to tell me that you murdered her because I had her and you wanted her?”

"I saved her!" Rollins snaps back, waving his gun in your direction as the rage builds in him. "The wife of some city-slicker pretty boy without the sense to keep a single fuckin' eye on the most important woman in the world. She would have been miserable bearing your heathen children and picking up the pieces of everything you ever broke."

Jack scoffs, knowing it won’t make any use to point out that he grew up in the same small damn valley Hank did. That they both worked and lived on ranches. The Daniels spread was more lucrative thanks to his Grandaddy being a smart man and the Rollins have always been a little unhinged. Hank and his younger brother being the worst of them all. “Point the gun at me, not her.” As devastating as it is to hear him talk about Abigail that way, you are the one in danger right now. His heart bursting with the need to see you safe.

"Now, c'mon." Rollins drawls, throwing his brother a smirk from a few feet away. "Don't start pretendin' you like her now. She already knows why you can't look her in the eye. Lyin' piece of shit."

Jack wishes he could see your eyes, but they are covered. All he can hear is the panicked breathing and sobs from your poor body. “Your issue is with me. She ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

"Cryin' over a man who can't ever love her." Tutting as he shakes his head, Rollins moves his gun temporarily from pointing at your head to Jack, but goes back again. He's having too much fun watching the man he despises twist. "You been treatin' this one even worse than my Abigail."

It’s in his chest to scream out that Abigail was his, but she’s dead and you’re here, alive and depending on him. His heart clenches and he rocks his jaw. “If you know how I’ve been treatin’ her, why take her? Why not let her go? I’m here now. You’ve got my attention.”

“You want me to let her go?” Hank Rollins scoffs to his brother and seems to weigh his options. As far as he’s concerned there’s no reason this can’t be as much fun as he likes. “I could see my way to lettin’ that happen,” he concedes with another contemptuous chuckle. “You got two options, Daniels. One is I shoot her in the head right now and you walk free knowin’ you’re the reason two innocent women are dead. But two? Two is you take her place. Right here and now. I’ll let her walk right out on outta here. Yer friend there can even get her home safe. Either way, yer signing over that ranch land and the whole business operatin’ on it over to me first.”

“Done.” The word is out of his mouth so fast he’s not even sure if he actually said them out loud. Maybe he just thought it. But then Rollins’ face cracks into a wide grin and he looks like he’s struck gold. “Let her go, and I’ll take her place.”

It may not be discernable words, but the hoarse screams coming from you now are crystal clear - pleading with him not to take your place. As much as this is the very last circumstance you would ever want to be in, as much as you cannot fathom how this absolute basket case Rollins thinks his 'plan' could ever succeed, Jack is worth far more to the world at large – and to you. So if either one of you is walking out of here, it should be him. Thrashing as much as your binding will allow, trying to toss off the foot of the man standing on you or else wiggle away from the pressure, probably a move that will end in broken bones, but you couldn't care less. Just as long as Jack stays far away from this chair.

“Let her go.” That’s all that matters to Jack right now. Getting you far away, keeping you safe. “Now.” Hank huffs and rolls his eyes, pointing the weapon at your head once more for the sheer pleasure of watching Jack’s face drain of all life. “Fine.” He grumbles, motioning to Tripp. “Get her up and hand her over to whatever city boy he has with him.” He doesn’t get to watch you die, which is disappointing, but he gets Jack Daniels and the land his family stole. It might even be better this way.

Tripp grumbles, on the verge of protesting, but he does as he's told...mostly. All he really does is kick you - still attached to the chair - over to the man a few feet away. Rye immediately drops to his knees, murmuring to you quietly who he is and that he's going to untie you, Bowie knife out of its sheath and slicing away at the ties and tape that bind you to the chair that has been your prison for the last God only knows how many hours. As soon as your ankles are free you kick your legs, trusting that this other Statesman agent is here to help but wanting desperately to get to Jack to stop him from giving your literal kidnapper what he wants. As soon as your wrists are free you shove the blindfold off your eyes and drag the gag out of your mouth, shrinking away from the light in the same breath that you scream for Jack not to give in with everything you have left in you. Which, after countless hours screaming, crying, and very nearly choking on a ball of knotted cloth, is hoarse at best.

Finally looking over at you, Jack is furious by how swollen your eyes are, how raw your voice is. He doesn’t say anything about it though. Knowing it would give Hank a thrill to know how much he pissed Jack off. “Get out of here, sugar.” There’s a lot that Jack wants to say, but there’s no time. He needs you away from this room. “You’ve got a restaurant to open, remember? Go with Rye.”

Like the nail in the top of the coffin, you reel back at being ordered away. Not a moment of gentleness or sensitivity after being fucking kidnapped by the man who is still as obsessed with his wife as Jack is. After being convinced he wouldn't come for you only to feel such soaring hope at hearing his voice, the desolation of realizing that he only came because you're a complication and that he never felt any kind of tenderness or care for you at all. It's almost reassuring, in a way. To know that you at least had the right level of expectation in the beginning is something, at least.

It isn't hard to bundle you up into his arms when you deflate, but Rye doesn't say anything about it. Only tucks you against him and helps you shuffle toward the door on weak legs. "Come on, darlin'," he murmurs, glancing back at Jack. "We'll get you fixed up right. Let Jack handle it from here."

"Sure." Even one word makes you cough, but you don't put up a fight or try to get back to him. To your fucking soulmate. After all - you have a restaurant to open. God forbid you get behind on your commitment to Statesman for any reason.

He wants to call you back, to talk to you. His heart aching with every step you take away from him, but it’s safer. He sees the glint in Hank’s eyes, he knows he’s looking for another reason to strike out. Possibly waiting until Jack talks to you to shoot you. He can’t risk that. He can’t risk you. No matter what, his soulmate – you – needs to survive.

After about four steps, Rye stops your shuffling and scoops you up, not wanting you to walk on any injuries or aggravate anything. He nods to Jack and carries you out the back door, planning on bundling you into the backseat of the SUV and then taking out the stragglers out in front of the abattoir. But you need to be safe, first.

It feels like you’ve cried every tear in your body, and this bitter disappointment is met with stony silence and efficiency of movement. It doesn’t take long to get you out of there but Rye does it carefully, promising you in low tones that everything is going to be okay from here. That you’re safe. That Jack’s going to take care of you. The last part just makes you feel hollow as you nod.

“Now you stay right here,” Rye croons, buckling you into the backseat and tapping a few times on his watch. “Ginger, I need your eyes in the car. Our girl is safe but I gotta take care of somethin’ before we clear out of here.”

“Copy.” Ginger acknowledges the request and as soon as Rye closes the doors, the entire vehicle locks and a red light above the rear-view mirror flashes on. The built-in screens in the headrests come on and you can barely see Ginger’s concerned face. “Honey, I need you to listen to me.” She urges. “It’s Astrid. The Statesman cars come equip with medical facilities for injuries. I’m going to scan you now.”

Talking hurts, with how hoarse you are, but you nod at Astrid’s face on screen and only shrink away from the bright lights - What are those? Lasers? - for a second before you remember she has never done anything to hurt you. “Everything hurts.” It’s just a whisper, but it’s there.

“I know, I’m going to make sure that you feel better, okay?” Sorrow and rage fill the Statesman tech as the images comes back to her. Multiple contusions, burns - obviously from cigarettes - two broken ribs and a fractured ankle. All of them evidence of the horrific torture you endured at the hands of those madmen. “I can have a shot administered.” She tells you through the screen, trying not to show her emotions. “Just a tiny prick and then you will feel so much better. Can I do that?” It’s important right now for you to feel like you have control. That nothing is being done to you anymore and she wants you to be comfortable.

“Sure.” You murmur, hoping it’s something like morphine or stronger so you don’t have to think or feel anything. “A-Astrid?” Right before whatever happens happens, you look up to find her eyes watching you on screen. “How…how long have I been gone? Does my family know?”

Pausing for a moment, Ginger nods. “Your brother filed a police report, this morning. After Jack went to your house when you didn’t leave for work this morning—”

“Jack came to my house?” You practically whisper it, but Ginger hears you loud and clear. “He did. You’d been missing for seventeen hours when Jack jumped into the jet to come to New York.” She confirms softly.

“Will you just…let them know I’m okay?” Whatever lie Statesman tells people, you’ll go with it. It’s just that right now you can’t wrap your head around the idea of Jack giving two shits about you enough to check on you at home - let alone rescue you. It’s too much.

“As soon as I get you feeling better, I will have the local police contact them to tell them that you are safe.” She promises, knowing that you wouldn’t want them to worry. “We’re going to bring you back to Statesman to put you in our hyperbaric healing station. Six hours in it and you will be completely healed.”

“Okay.” As long as they tell your family you’re okay, you could care less what else happens. Everything hurts, there are no more tears to cry, and it’s possible that you feel even more hopeless about Jack ever sparing you a second glance ever again. Soulmates. Fucking laughable. Whoever Abigail was, she was clearly more important and more wonderful to multiple people than you’ll ever be. “Astrid?” When you look up again she’s still watching you intentely. “Can…can you get rid of my tattoo while I’m in there?”

“Are you sure you want that?” She asks quietly, her eyes searching your face through the screen to try to get an inkling of what you are thinking. “You don’t have to make any big decisions now.”

“The scars, too. You said you could erase scars.” Let him be free. Is all you can think. Obviously nobody was exaggerating about the danger you were in, but it’s more than that. It’s how, when Jack barely spared you a single glance, it hurt more than anything the Rollins brothers ever could have dreamt up.

The silence lingers in the air, suspended between the two of you for a long moment. Ginger sighs softly. “Of course.” She murmurs, hating how broken you appear. “We will get rid of them all.”

Gunshots, unmistakable now that you’ve heard them up close and personal, ring out from multiple directions and you sink down in the back of the car you know for a fact is bulletproof - all Statesman vehicles are - out of instinct. “And Astrid?” You watch the automated needle release from the door handle of the SUV and make sure your arm is in line for the injection. “Remind me to fire Tripp.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Ginger promises you softly. On another screen in her lab, she can see the feeds from both Rye and Jack, and the justice that is being delivered is swift and brutal. They messed with a Statesman’s soulmate, and Jack grunts in pleasure as he retracts the whip on the left screen, pieces of Hank and Tripp Rollins scattered around the room.

A clean up team will be deployed from the New York Statesman building to scrub the site. Body removal is a necessary evil of the job and Statesman has some of the best. By the time footsteps can be heard running back toward you in the car, Ginger’s injection is starting to take hold and you’re finally feeling drowsy. Adrenaline and fear have had you on high alert since you were taken, but having Astrid’s face and voice to reassure you is soothing.

Shouting your name, Jack rushes towards the SUV. The only thing in his mind has been to get to you. To make sure you are okay. He knows Rye will be alright and he needs to see you. He manages to get to the rear door before Ginger deactivates the locks and security, yanking on the handle. “Let me in! Let me in!” He yells frantically.

“She’s out, Jack.” Ginger’s voice in his earpiece comes with a sigh as she deactivates the locks and lets him into the car. “She’s hurt pretty badly so I gave her a sedative. When you get back to Statesman, get her in a medical chopper and bring her to my lab asap.”

“Oh my god.” Jack rips open the door and climbs into the back seat, finding you slumped against the other door. “What— what did they do to her?” He demands, panicked because he’s never seen you like this. Angry at himself that he let this happen. Gathering you against him, he runs his hands over your body as he pulls you into his lap.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” she promises him, not wanting to give him the full rundown of your injuries when he’s still visibly upset enough to lash out. “She’ll be okay, Jack. But I don’t want her to go into shock or accidentally aggravate an injury, and she said she was in pain. That’s why I needed to medicate her.”

“Tell me what they did to her, Ginger Ale.” Jack demands again, turning towards the screen even as he is cradling you and stroking your face.

Ginger sighs, softly again, and looks down at her diagnostic pad. Avoiding Jack’s eyes while she reads this off will probably be better. “Two broken ribs, fractured ankle, superficial burns clearly from cigarettes. Bruising, contusions, and internal injuries consistent with being beaten, waterboarded, and kicked multiple times.”

“Motherfuckers.” Jack hisses, tightening his grip on you to where you whimper in your unconscious state. Immediately relaxing his hold on you and petting your face to soothe both of you. “I should have made it take more time. I should have beat him to death with my fists.” He growls. “I’m gonna burn their fucking legacy to the ground and piss on the ashes.”

“Jack.” This time Ginger’s tone is a warning. It’s not frequently that she hears this kind of rage from him – usually only in relation to his late wife. “She’ll be okay,” she repeats. “But she’s going to need support. Mentally. Emotionally.”

“It’s my fault, Ginger!” He hisses, his own emotions beyond rage finally surfacing from the compact box he had shoved them in to be the agent he needed to be in order for both of you to get out of that building alive. “She would have been at home— it’s my fault. She asked…she asked me about my birthday and I lashed out at her.” He chokes back a sob and looks down at your face. “I didn’t protect her.”

“Then you’ll apologize. And you’ll make sure it never happens again.” Jack isn’t a man who breaks down unless the stress is truly unbearable, and as his friend Ginger has seen only a bare handful of these moments. “She wants me to remove her marks when she gets here,” she tells him carefully. “Just so you know.”

Jack closes his eyes, absorbing the meaning behind it. “She wants to be rid of me.” He whispers, knowing it’s his fault when he had pushed you away and kept you at arm’s length. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry sugar. I should have been keepin’ you close. Keepin’ you safe.”

“You can talk to her when she’s awake,” Ginger murmurs, watching Rye finish with the last of the goons on the video feed from his glasses. “I’m deploying Delta Team to sweep up. You and Rye get back to the New York building and you get her in a chopper first thing. If she wakes up before you get back, you can talk then. If not?” Ginger watches Rye running back to the SUV, so much more composed than Jack for having no personal stake in this mission. “If not, then it might be tomorrow morning. After she’s done at the lab.”

He’s not happy, but he nods. Holding you and refusing to let you out of his arms as Rye comes climbing back into the SUV. “Where’s the chopper, Ginger?” Jack demands, knowing he needs to get you home and mended.

“There’s a helipad on the other side of the Navy Yard. Five minutes from where you are. I can have them meet you there.”

“Copy that, Ginger.” Rye takes the suggestion as absolute, seeing the condition you’re in, and the car comes roaring to life a second later.

“Goddamnit, sugar.” Jack huffs, his hand smoothing over your hair as he tries to look past the damage inflicted on you to see the woman who had intrigued him from the start. “You gotta hang on. You gotta get better.” He murmurs. “I gotta lotta grovelin’ to do when you’re up for it.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Danels #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #canon typical violence #graphic depictions of violence

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