long ass, probably confusing, shouldnt give a fuck vent....it'd be hard to try and make sense of it...
so...tw for a lot of things...i dunno how to tag them...;-;
DID. probably the main topic on my mind right now. im trying to find out whats going on in my head....its fucking busy up there.
so, i have SOMETHING in my head...be it BPD or i dunno anymore.
But one thing i know for sure is that theres something. but it could be just placebo affect. it may sound wrong but i was always kinda jealous, of people with DID or systems. because the alters could protect them from memories and trauma.
and when i started to get a better understanding of how DID works...i was upset. because my mind felt so hallow, with all the memories and pain and horror just ringing in my head. there are just times where im so desperate for something, anything to be there for me to run towards to make me forget or to shield me from my pain but it would just make me angrier when there was nothing there. and this also got me thinking...is there something wrong with me? 15 years of pain, and lies, and abuse, and rape, and cutting, and horrible horrible unsaid things and events, constantly and nobody ever knew? i kept it all in and everyone still thought i was fine?
sometimes i try and convince my own self that that mask i kept up was to protect everyone, that the harsh words and thoughts were to be kept separate. so i compartmentalized, i separated my thoughts and emotions to not have to deal with the constant pain. but sometimes it slips through, and it doesn't even sound like me.
its cruel and its harsh and its raw emotion in a cocktail even i myself don't even have a name for. its uncontrollable, and its uncomfortable, and im scared it will get loose. im balancing and teetering my life during a balancing act of chaos....and id like to give in, but im reminded how my impulse hurts others, ruins relationships, destroys lives. and its all on loop inside my head constantly repeating and it hurts. "I want it to stop" words ive said like a mantra thinking it'd help in some way...
and i dont know whats wrong...ive changed so many times its hard to see through the millions of grayscales of myself...
Summary: He’s dirty, hungry, tired, and alone. So excruciatingly alone. For five days, he’s been on his own, wandering the vast expanse of South Korea with no destination in mind. He would stop only when he was sure he’d be safe. He isn’t sure what city he’s in, or how far he’s traveled.
Words: 6709
Pairing: Primarily Jinkook and Taekook - Written as a familial relationship. Do not ship Jinkook in here as Jin is an adult and Jungkook is very much a minor. Taekook is open to interpretation.
TW: Mentions of abandonment || Mentions of foster families || mentions/descriptions of previous abuse || Mentions of orphan-hood || allusions to trauma || moderate to heavy angst || exhaustion || fainting || hunger/dehydration
See Also: February 2nd - Set in the future of the same AU.
A/N: I usually save my author's notes for the end of the fic. But I got some interest in continuing this AU. And I thought it would be best to go back to origin story. If you're read the February 2nd fic, then you know that I was working on this AU for another fandom and decided to edit it to fit BTS. When I originally wrote it, it was set in south west USA and the family came from a different ethnic background than the Jungkook character. I think I removed any references that would allude to that previous AU, but let me know if I missed anything. Anyway, enjoy it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~June 27 (Monday)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He is determined. He will never need anyone again. He will never rely on anything, anyone, again. He’s fine. He can take care of himself. No more case workers. No more foster families. He’s had enough, he’s endured enough. He can make it on his own. He is sure of it. He will travel far far away, where no one will ever find him. No one will ever hurt him again.
He’s dirty, hungry, tired, and alone. So excruciatingly alone. For five days, he’s been on his own, wandering the vast expanse of South Korea with no destination in mind. He would stop only when he was sure he’d be safe. He isn’t sure what city he’s in, or how far he’s traveled. But the journey is finally starting to catch up to him. His legs won’t be able to take him much further. His throat is drier in the scorching summer heat. The hungry ache of his stomach is becoming too much to ignore. And his skin stings from the sunburn he’d contracted the last few days.
He realizes at that point that he has to stop. If he has any hope of surviving, he has to give himself a break. He is far enough away, in the middle of nowhere. A short rest won’t compromise his freedom. As he scans his surroundings, he notices a large house nearly 500 meters away. It’s the only one for a while from the looks of it. Maybe he can ask for some water. Something to get him back on the move. He has a little bit of money in his bag, surely he can bargain for something. So he sets out, determined to cross those last few meters without killing over.
It’s arduous. His knees shake and his legs feel like jelly, but he makes it. Standing at the front door, extending his wrist to knock, he realizes exactly what he was doing. He definitely looks like a runaway, with the ratty appearance and a bag of belongings over his shoulder. What if the person who answers the door called the police? Or worse, what if no one answers. The frightening possibilities flood his already clouded mind.
But he is so damn thirsty. At this point, he will do anything just for a sip of something cold to drink. So he knocks. He knocks with as much force as he can muster. And he knocks until someone opens the door. When the door finally opens, he looks up at the grown man who answers. He looks to be in his prime with curly deep brown hair and broad shoulders. His big brown eyes look down at him with something he’s never seen before. He eyes him up and down, subtly glancing to the bag on his back. “Good afternoon? Can I help you?” He asked, a Seoul accent thick in his voice. He started in Busan. Had he really made it that far on foot?
He never gets the chance to ask for a drink; instead, he collapses into the man's arms.
Some time later, he wakes up on what he recognizes to be a sofa surrounded by unfamiliarity. He doesn’t recognize the ceiling, or the fireplace, or the family in the photos displayed on the wall. He does, however, vaguely recognize the man sitting down next to him, though. He is the man who answered the door. He’s pressing a cold cloth against his forehead. Jungkook coughs lightly to get his attention and he instantly turns to him. “Oh, good, you’re awake. You scared me quite a bit, sweetie, just falling into my arms like you did. I wasn’t sure what to do. But you looked like you needed rest, so I brought you inside.” Jungkook melts under the cloth. It feels so good against his skin, which is coated in something cold and undeniably sticky. “Where did you come from?”
He refuses to answer, keeping his lips pressed tight. If this man finds out, he may call the police. Or his case worker. Or his foster parents. He doesn’t want him to know and send him back into the system for another terrible placement. Or worse, send him back to where he came from.
The man seems to understand the silence, his discomfort, because he stops waiting for an answer. Instead, he speaks again. “You don’t have to be afraid here. I want you to know that you’re safe. I won’t hurt you.” He hesitates, “I, uh, noticed some of the bruising on your arms when I put the aloe lotion on your sunburn. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if you work with me, I can make sure it won’t happen again. I’ll make it so no one ever hurts you again.” He resists the urge to scoff. He’s heard that before. From his case worker, from his foster parents. What makes this guy any different?
“Jungkook. My name is Jungkook. I came from Busan.” He props himself up on his elbows, looking the man straight in the eyes. Something in his gut tells him to trust him. But he’s never listened to his gut before.
“Well, you've wandered pretty far away from your home, Jungkook-ssi. Do you know where you are?” Jungkook just shakes his head, “Uiseong. A three hour train ride away.”
Uiseong. Jungkook knows it as a rural town in the Gyeongsangbuk region. Had he really traveled that far from Busan?
“Is there someone I should call for you, Jungkook.” The man asks.
“No. There’s no one to call.”
“Jungkook-ssi.” He carries a scolding tone to his voice, “You’re just a boy.” He continues.
“Please, ajeossi-nim. Please don’t call anyone.” Jungkook immediately perks up. No, absolutely not. No phone calls. Not the police, not the child welfare system. No one who would ruin this peaceful moment for him. He begs the older man not to call anyone. Other families always call and then people show up and take him away. He doesn’t want to go through that all again. He’ll be fine all by himself.
The older man presses a hand against his head, “Aigoo, kiddo. Don’t get yourself worked up. I won’t call anyone for now, until I absolutely have to.” He promises. “Tell you what. You must be hungry. Can I make you something to eat?”
Jungkook sest a hand on his stomach, feeling it ache in his abdomen. He isn’t sure when his last meal was. He nods and is led toward the kitchen. Jungkook stands in the entrance as the other man wanders around the kitchen with practiced grace. The kitchen is large; Jungkook equates it to something out of a remodeling magazine. Glossy, tan quartz countertops and dark wooden cabinets. Elegant bar stools resting by the island in the center and a small round table for four on the other side.
As the man dances around the kitchen, he sends Jungkook a small smile. “Jungkook, why don’t you go wash up. There’s a bathroom right behind you.”
Jungkook looks behind him and sees the door he hadn’t noticed when he walked in. Silently, he dismisses himself and creeps into the small room. He takes his time washing his hands and his face, noticing how much dirt he’s wiping away and hoping he wouldn’t make too much of a mess in the nice, clean bathroom.
He enjoys the peace of the bathroom. And the feeling of the warm water on his skin. It feels like centuries since he last washed himself. The soap smells of strawberries and lathers smoothly over his rough hands. Drying his hands on the towel, he looks at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pathetic- his normally tan skin glowing red with sunburn, his hair out of place. But for the first time, he feels safe. He has to give himself some credit.
The smell of food draws him out of the bathroom and back to the kitchen. There’s a bowl with some food Jungkook doesn’t recognize set on the table. And for a bowl of white mush, it looks good. Hot steam rises off the contents, Jungkook’s first hot meal in a while. Taking a seat at the table, Jungkook looks at the man with a shy smile. “This looks very good,” He stutters when trying to address him.
“Kim Seokjin, dear. But just Jin is fine." He smiles, “And it’s just some instant jook. If you finish that there’s some more warming on the stove. I figured you might eat more than just one bowl.”
Jungkook nods, taking his first bite and burning his tongue. He winces at first, but actually found the feeling to be comfortable. He feels grateful that he actually had something to burn his tongue on. He ignores the burn and feeds himself another spoonful.
“Jungkook, honey. I want to help you. Are you sure you can’t tell me anything about how you ended up on my doorstep?” Jungkook looks down into the bowl, trying to avoid his prying eyes. Seokjin continues to pry more into where he came from and how long he’d been missing, asking questions but not getting many answers from Jungkook.
Jungkook finishes the first bowl of jook and asks politely for more. Seokjin smiles. Quickly, he scoops him another helping and sets it in front of him. “How old are you, Jungkook.” He asks, electing to drop the personal interrogation for more introductory questions.
“15” Jungkook replies with a mouthful of jook.
He smiles. “I have a son your age - Taehyung.” Jungkook is grateful for the break from the personal questions, but he isn’t all that keen on learning Seokjin’s story either. He doesn’t really care about what he is saying. He just nods periodically and continues slurping down the meal.
When he meets the bottom of the bowl, he lets out a satisfied sigh and stands up to take the bowl to the sink. “Would you like anything to drink, Jungkook.” Seokjin offers and Jungkook nods, standing awkwardly beside the sink. Seokjin stands up and pulls a glass from one of the many cabinets. He gives Jungkook an option between at least four different kinds of juices. He asks for milk and Seokjin pours him a glass. He gulps the entire thing down in one large sip.
Seokjin smiles, “Sweetie,” it took Jungkook a minute to realize that he was being addressed. “When was the last time you had a nice, hot shower?” He asks and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t actually know the answer to that question. “Would you like to take one?” He offers and Jungkook nods with a small yet eager smile. “You look about the same size as my Taehyung. I’m sure you’ll fit into something of his.” He takes Jungkook into his room and lets him use the master shower. “I’ll grab something of his and set it out here for you. Okay. Towels are here, washcloths over there, and you can use my body wash.” Seokjin explains as he shows Jungkook everything he may need and how to operate the faucet. He even breaks open a brand new toothbrush and encourages him to brush his teeth.
Once Seokjin leaves, Jungkook stands dumbfounded for a while. He appreciates Seokjin's kindness, his welcoming hospitality. He knows eventually he will have to tell him the truth. But maybe that can wait a little longer. Maybe he can bask in his hospitality for a while longer. He’s just about to step into the shower when he hears the bedroom door open. “Jungkook, honey, Taehyung's clothes are out here on my bed. Hopefully they work for you.” He shouts back a thank you as the bedroom door closes and finally steps in the shower and stands under the hot water for at least five minutes, just letting it run over his skin. He ignores the way it stings his sunburn. He doesn’t know when he may shower again. Once he’s comfortable in the water, he starts the washing process.
It’s embarrassing how much dirt covers the bathtub after he finishes washing himself off. He tries to get it all to wash down the drain, but every time he thinks he’s finished, there’s another spot.
Eventually he gives up and steps out of the tub and wraps a towel around his waist. The long wall mirror is fogged up by the steam, but he can still see some semblance of his own reflection. He takes a second to touch his abdomen, covered in fading purple bruises. They don’t hurt as much anymore. The more the fog fades, the more Jungkook can see. The scars on his chest and the bruising all over his arms. But before he starts crying in the bathroom, he runs out to find the clothes Seokjin left for him. A pair of black sweatpants with a flame pattern running down the side and a white T-shirt with roman block letters. He doesn’t recognize the word, but his English was never very strong.
He puts on the clothes and towel dries his hair the best he could. Now covered, he walks back into the bathroom prepared to clean up any mess he may have made. There’s a knock on the bathroom door and Seokjin’s sweet voice from the other side. “Jungkook, honey, are you all cleaned up? Do the clothes fit okay, sweetie?” Jungkook opens the door, showing him how well Taehyung’s clothes looked on him. “Well, look at you. You’re rather handsome when you’re not all covered in dirt.” He hands him a comb for his still dripping hair.
He starts pulling at the knots in his hair. “Thank you for letting me use your shower, and for the food, and the milk.” He realizes at that moment that he hadn’t thanked Seokjin for anything since he showed up and feels guilty. Seokjin had shown him kindness and he hasn’t expressed gratitude for any of it.
“Don’t you worry about any of that, dear.” He waves him off, starting the process of cleaning the bathroom. He collects Jungkook’s old clothes and sets them in the laundry basket. “You’re safe here, Jungkook. Nothing bad will happen to you while you’re here. I promise.” Jungkook has a hard time believing that. “Now, what would you like to do? You look tired, do you want to go take a nap?” he offers.
Jungkook shakes his head. Against his better judgment, he sighs and looks up at Seokjin. He might have a hard time trusting people, but he feels like Seokjin is a man he can trust. And he owes it to him. He knows he’ll feel terrible if he gets into trouble for helping him. “I ran away from my foster parents five days ago,” he admits. Seokjin remains reasonably calm as he ushers Jungkook into his room and sits him down on his bed.
“Okay, sweetie. Tell me everything that happened. We’re going to make it alright.”
Jungkook doesn’t know if he wants him to start at the beginning or if he just wants to know why he ran away. Why he ran away… He can’t tell him that. He decides to just go with the basics. “I’ve been with this foster family for three years. And they recently started hurting me. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ran away and I just kept going. But then I ended up here.” Jungkook starts to cry, “And I really can’t go back there. They are going to hurt me again. They are going to do terrible things to me and I don’t want to hurt anymore. Seokjin-ssi, please don’t make me go back there.” Jungkook covers his eyes with his hands as he sobs. He feels Seokjin’s arms around him in a very gentle, very loose hug.
“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I promise no one will ever hurt you again, okay. I promise, and a Kim always keeps their promise.” He hushes him, “Now sweetie, I’m going to need you to tell me your last name, and the name of the family that hurt you. Okay, I’ll take care of everything for you.”
Jungkook isn’t really sure what he can do for him, but he’s honored that he’ll at least make the effort. “My last name is Jeon. The foster family name is Bak. Kwan and Sunhi.” He even provides their address.
“Thank you, Jungkook, for trusting me enough to tell me. I’ll take care of it from here. Now you go rest up and I’ll make a few phone calls, okay.” Jungkook nods and lets Seokjin lead him out of his room and up the stairs. “This is the guest bedroom, you can rest in here. Come downstairs whenever you’re ready, okay.” He smiles before leaving him alone in the room. Jungkook lays down on the bed and closes his eyes. He can hear Seokjin’s voice through the floor.
“No, you listen to me. I’m not going to let you take that child back to that house.” he’s shouting. “He says they physically abuse him. And he has the marks to prove it.” “No. I didn’t take him. He showed up at my house exhausted, starving and filthy.” “He ran away because they were hurting him.” “I frankly don’t give a rat’s ass how this works. I promised him I would protect him and that’s what I’m going to do.” “He will not leave my house unless you can promise me he will be well taken care of. And I demand that the Bak family be punished for their crimes.” “No, I don’t care about his track record. I don’t care about his past. I can tell he’s a good kid that just needs a good family.” “Fine, I’ll do whatever it takes to become a legal foster parent. But the boy stays with me.” “Yes, I have five children of my own.” “We have more than enough room for him.” “Look, those are all technicalities. If you need to see my house, come see my house, come meet my family. Come do whatever it is you need to do. But I’m not letting Jungkook go.” “My mind's made up. I’m only doing what is best for Jungkook.”
Jungkook can hear the argument clearly. He feels like crying. He feels he doesn’t deserve to be treated so well by such a kind man. For as long as he can remember, he has only been treated badly. No one had ever shown him this level of genuine kindness. He wonders why Seokjin’s doing it. He isn’t in it for the paycheck, he isn’t in need of any kids. He wonders how such a sweet and caring person can actually exist. And why he was causing himself trouble for his sake.
Despite the exhaustion coursing through his entire body, he can’t bring himself to sleep. All he can do is cry. He doesn’t deserve kindness. He doesn’t deserve to be laying on such a large, soft bed. He isn’t worth Seokjin’s trouble. And so he cries, curled up in a ball on the floor, he buries his face in his knees and weeps. Seokjin wanted to keep him. If only he knew about all the trouble he’s gotten himself into. If only he knew.
Jungkook stays in that room for hours. Eventually, he runs out of tears to cry and settles with sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. Hours later, Seokjin knocks on the door and invites himself inside. He expects Jungkook to be sleeping.. But he finds Jungkook sitting on the floor and sits across from him. “Jungkook, sweetie, dinner is ready.”
Jungkook makes a slight movement, “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks, fresh wet tears piling up in the corners of his eyes. He thought he had run out.
Seokjin sends him a soft smile, “Because, Jungkook, you’re a good kid who just got dealt a crappy hand. You deserve a few good cards, don’t you think?” He opens his arms invitingly. Jungkook thinks it’s wonderful how he presents comfort as an option, rather than just pulling him in. Jungkook does bring himself into Seokjin’s arms and rests his head against his shoulder. He’s never been held like that before. It feels nice. “I was on the phone with social services. I have to get an official license, but we are going to be your new foster family. Is that okay with you?”
Jungkook knows it’s a difficult process. He’s heard previous foster families complain about it. Jungkook knows it was probably very illegal for him to stay during the interim. But Jungkook had also heard a lot of the conversation. And he can tell that Seokjin is the kind of person who doesn't stop until he gets what he wants. He’s thankful for that. “I don’t want to be a burden on you, or your family.” Jungkook replies, still pressed against his chest.
“Nonsense, dear. You need a place to stay. I’ve already talked to them all about it. We all want to help you out. Come now, dinner is probably getting cold. And everyone is down there waiting to meet you.” he helps Jungkook to his feet, then presses himself up off the floor and guides him down to the dinner table. “Everyone, this is Jungkook-ssi. He’s going to be staying with us from now on.” Seokjin’s hands were hovering around his shoulders, not touching. “Come on, introduce yourselves.”
So many unfamiliar faces. To his left sits a petite man, probably in his late teens. He has long dark hair and a flat expression on his lips. “Yoongi.” He introduces himself plainly. Next to him, another child. This one looked much younger. He has a wide smile and a mop of thick brown hair on his head. “I’m Jimin!” Next to him was one of two identical faces. Both very young with clean cut black hair and such prominent dimples. “I’m Hoseok. And he’s Namjoon.” Hoseok points to his twin sitting across the table. Jungkook knows he would have trouble telling them apart. For now, he’ll just have to rely on which side of the table they were on. Thank god they sat on different sides. The last face he saw was one of a boy similar to him. This must be Taehyung. “The name’s Taehyung,” He smirks. Jungkook notices an empty seat between Taehyung and Seokjin. He assumes it is for him and cautiously takes a seat. The glass at that setting is filled with milk. Jungkook smiles fondly.
Members of the family exchanges glances at him through the whole meal. With the exception of Jimin, who just stares at Jungkook a lot and made him feel as though he was under intense scrutiny from a nine year old. No one has ever paid that much attention to him before. Jimin keeps his smile wide until he finally breaks the silence of the table. “Your hair is really cool. It swooshes up in the back and it’s all black.” Jungkook isn’t sure what to say, so he twinges his lip into what might have been a smile.
“Mini,” Jungkook assumes it’s a nickname for Jimin, “Don’t be rude. You’re making Jungkook feel uncomfortable.” Seokjin scolds.
Jungkook is just about to defend himself when he bites his tongue. It isn’t his place to intervene. Jimin’s voice fills the room again. “I wasn’t trying to be rude, appa. I was complimenting his hair. If he’s gonna be my hyung, I want him to like me.”
A piece of chicken lodges itself in his throat when he takes a sharp breath. Hyung? He thinks as he coughs. No one has ever called him a brother before. He’s been called a lot of things. But hyung was never one of them. Seokjin gently pats his back to help him catch his breath. When he can finally breathe again, he takes a sip of milk and tries to regain his composure. The whole table is staring at him. “Uh, Oh, Excuse me. I’m sorry.” He shrinks back in his seat.
“Don’t worry about it, honey. Are you okay?” Seokjin comforts him, sending his family eyes that screamed ‘stop staring.’
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, bit off a little more than I could chew, I guess.” He lies. But maybe it isn’t a lie. Maybe he really did bite off more than he could chew by absentmindedly stumbling upon the Kim household in his time of need.
Seokjin sits back down and the meal continues in silence again. It’s only silent for a few minutes until Seokjin addresses the table. “So how was everyone’s day today?”
They went around the table sharing the events of their day. The twins talk about their play date with the family friend. Jimin talks about his piano lessons. Yoongi tries to downplay the conversation, but ends up confessing that he went to see a movie. Taehyung talks about the project he was working on in school.
Wait, school? It’s the end of June. School should be out by now for summer break. Was Taehyung taking summer classes?
Thankfully, no one expects an answer from Jungkook. He’s glad because he wasn’t sure what he would have said. He hasn’t done anything to report. Seokjin knows what he did all day. He knows what he’d been through.
Regular conversation continues until all the plates are clear, with the exception of the twins who refused to eat their vegetables. Once Jungkook finishes, he sits and waits for any signals of what to do. Being in so many foster homes showed him that many families do things differently. He has yet to learn the customs of the Kim family. Seokjin stands up and collects everyone’s empty dishes. Jungkook offers to help him, but he hushes him and insists he stay seated.
“Who wants hotteok?” he calls from the kitchen. The entire table erupts in cheers.
Jungkook’s never heard of it before. He sees everyone cheering and wonders what everyone was so excited about. He leans over to Taehyung and taps his shoulder. Taehyung looks back at him. “What’s everyone cheering about?” He asks quietly, so not to be heard over the cheers of the twins.
“Oh,” He chuckles, “Aren’t you Korean? Appa made hotteok. It’s like a pancake, but my Appa has his own secret recipe, so it’s like 100 times better than anything you can buy on the streets. He learned to modify the recipe when he lived abroad. It’s super super sweet! He only makes it on special occasions. He must have made it for you.” Taehyung admits so casually, sending Jungkook a friendly smile. Jungkook just stares back. He’s never even heard of a pancake before. Everything he’s ever eaten came prepackaged or from a microwave. And come to think of it, he’s never had anything made especially for him before, either. “You’ve gotta try it. It’s amazing.” He emphasizes.
Seokjin comes back from the kitchen with a dish stacked high with flat pastries. “Appa, Jungkook’s never had hotteok before.” Taehyung announces over everyone’s excitement. Jungkook feels only slightly betrayed.
“Well, we’ll change that. Won’t we?” he passes the first round out, starting with Jungkook. Once everyone is served, Seokjin sits back down and all eyes are glued to Jungkook as he stares down at the pastry. It looks like bread. He doesn’t see the big deal. “Go ahead, sweetie. Give it a taste. It’s a modified family recipe.”
Jungkook notices them all staring at him. He nods curtly as he takes a small bite. It’s sweet and chewy. It reminded him of candy. He chews it up carefully before swallowing. Everyone waits for some kind of reaction.
“Well, what did you think?” Taehyung asks with wide eyes.
Jungkook smiled, immediately scooping up more, “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.” He looked at Seokjin, “Thank you.” Seokjin sent him a warm smile in response.
Jimin laughs, “Just wait until Appa makes you his bungeoppang. That’s my favorite.” The young boy digs into his own hotteok greedily.
Jungkook once again finds himself holed up in the guest bedroom. But this time, he is actually expected to spend the night there. He sits idly at the edge of the bed, staring at the pastel blue walls adorned with abstract art. This seems to be the only room in the house that isn’t plastered with family portraits, which makes sense. Any company they may host might not want to fall asleep staring at the perfect Kim family all wearing matching sweaters and sporting wide, genuine smiles.
Jungkook likes the abstract art. Collections of complimenting color gradients or photographs of random objects. He is particularly fond of the black-and-white photograph of a golf-ball up close, pennant flag intersecting a clear sky. Jungkook wonders where they got all of this wall art. Perhaps Seokjin is a photographer, or Yoongi is a painter. And the walls of the guest room are their canvas. It’s all fascinating to Jungkook. Maybe that’s what families do. Maybe they displayed their talents, their masterpieces, on the walls of their often empty guest bedrooms. It is a charming sentiment.
Eventually, the wall art stops being interesting. And neither the chotskies strewn across the shelves nor the complex pattern of the beige bedding can capture his attention. With nothing to focus on, he’s reminded of the emptiness of the room. He’s reminded that he’s supposed to sleep there, all night, by himself. That in itself is an intimidating thought. Jungkook had never had anything to himself before. He’d always have to share, with foster brothers and sisters, with other orphans. Having something that belongs to him was just an outlandish thought. He struggles to grasp it, he doesn’t believe it.
He struggles even more to cope with it. This entire space belongs to him. Jungkook thinks for a moment how many cots would be able to fit in the room. He estimates about three; six if they were bunked. In any other foster home, he would be sharing a room this size with at least two other kids. But now, the space was all his. And he really doesn’t know what to do with it.
He falls back onto the bed and wills his eyes shut. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he could just close his eyes and fall asleep. And he will wake up and it will be morning and he won’t have to spend any more time alone in this room. Lord knows he’s still extremely exhausted, the few hours he’d spent passed out on the Kim’s couch wasn’t enough to make up for the past five days of restlessness and fitful existence. He could probably sleep for three days and still be tired. But he’d settle for just a few hours. Just enough to get him to sunrise.
The digital clock on the night table reminds him it was well after midnight. Everyone in the house is already sound asleep, and has been for at least two hours now. He is the only soul awake. That thought unsettles him even more. He is the only one awake in a house that isn’t his own. He is the only one awake in a house he doesn’t understand, a brand new location. He’s always had trouble adjusting to new foster homes. It always takes him a few days to get the hang of things. But usually it wasn’t that much of an adjustment. Usually, things tend to follow the same pattern.
But the Kim household is a completely different entity. Seokjin doesn’t know how to be a foster parent. He only knows how to be a parent. And Jungkook knows he is a damn good one. But he’s the worst foster parent Jungkook has ever had. He doesn’t follow any of the expected foster parent procedures for introductions or tours or rules. Jungkook isn’t bothered by that. Not at all, he rather enjoys the dynamics of this new house. He just knows it will take him longer to adjust than ever before.
His first adjustment is to learn to sleep in his own room. And he can say with confidence that it is impossible. Springing up from the bed, he paces around the room trying to collect his thoughts, trying to tire himself out to the point where he just passes out again. At least then, he’d be resting. Somewhat. The pacing is getting him nowhere. And he is still anxious about the size and emptiness of the room.
In a spur of the moment decision, he quietly opens the bedroom door. Maybe a few laps pacing the hallway will tire him out. As he starts his trek, he notices one other light still shining through an open doorway. It’s Taehyung’s room. Taehyung must still be awake. Well, either he’s awake, or he sleeps with the lights on. Taehyung’s room is the farthest from the guest room, having to make his way quietly past everyone else’s room before he finally finds himself standing in Taehyung’s doorway.
Taehyung is awake and sitting at his desk, back turned to the door. Jungkook notices a pencil gripped in his left hand, moving vigorously across a page. He taps lightly against the doorframe. Just loud enough to get Taehyung’s attention and still quiet enough that none of the sleeping siblings will hear it.
Taehyung turns around with a jolt, clearly thrown from some deep level of concentration. He looks at Jungkook, then to the clock on his night table, then back to Jungkook. “Jungkook, do you know how late it is? What are you still doing up?” Taehyung inquires, a quizzical look in his eyes.
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, rubbing one roughly against the doorframe. “I guess I could ask you the same thing.” He replies.
“I’m finishing up my homework for school tomorrow. Or, I guess, today.” He gestures to his notebook with a casual smirk. “I have to be awake right now. But you don’t. You should go to sleep.” Taehyung’s voice gets quieter as he speaks.
Jungkook’s head drops and a small pout forms on his lips. “I- uh, I tried to fall asleep. But it just wasn’t happening.” He explains.
Taehyung’s facial expression softens from a look of confusion to a look of sympathy. “Do you, maybe, want to come in?” Jungkook is still lingering in the doorway. He gingerly accepts Taehyung’s offer, stepping further into the room. “You can lay down on my bed if you want. I probably won’t be going to sleep for a while.”
Jungkook accepts that invitation as well. He finds that Taehyung’s bed feels well slept in. There’s a body mold that nearly matches up with his own, give or take a few inches in Jungkook’s favor. He curls in on himself.
The scratching of Taehyung’s pencil keeps him awake. He wonders if he should be talking. Is Taehyung waiting for some kind of explanation? Is he waiting for a conversation? “I’ve never had my own room before. And the size of your guest room is just kinda overwhelming.” He tests the waters. It isn’t exactly the most inviting conversation starter. But Jungkook figures Taehyung can run with it if he wants to talk.
Taehyung’s pencil stops for a brief second. “Yeah, we’ve never really had anyone stay over. It’s never really been used before.”
Jungkook wonders if he should say anything else. Taehyung is busy with his homework, after all. “Your family is really nice.”
He thinks he hears Taehyung laugh, “Yeah. Well, we have our good days.”
“Really, does that mean you also have your bad days?”
“Every family has their bad days, Jungkook-ah.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh. Right, Uh, sorry. Appa mentioned that you’re a foster kid.”
That stings a little. “Don’t worry about it.” He plays it off, fiddling with the corner of the sheets, “Did he tell you anything else about me?”
“Nothing else; just that you’re a foster kid who will be staying with us for a while. Why? Should he have told us something else.”
“No.” Jungkook’s eyes slip closed and he hopes the conversation can end there.
“If you ever need to talk about anything, I’ll listen.”
Jungkook wants to respond, but sleep calls for him. He sleeps soundly knowing that he can confide in Taehyung, if he wants to, that is.
He doesn’t know when Taehyung finally goes to sleep. But when Jungkook wakes up, the clock on Taehyung’s night table tells him it was almost 5:30 am and Taehyung is in a sleeping bag on the floor. Quietly, Jungkook sneaks back to the guest room to wait out the rest of the night. As Jungkook sits impatiently on the guest room bed, he ponders his feelings of guilt about Taehyung having to sleep on the floor in his own room, in his own house. He resolves to not bother Taehyung at night again. He will just have to make the guest room work.
The Kim family finally starts to stir around 7:00. Well, just Seokjin and Taehyung. When he hears them moving around, he decides it would be safe to emerge from the guest room. He can just write it off and say he’s a light sleeper.
As soon as he opens the bedroom door, he locks eyes with Taehyung.
“Morning Jungkook-ah,” The slightly older male greets with a smile.
Jungkook has been awake for nearly an hour and a half, there’s no trace of sleep in his voice. “Morning.”
“What happened to you last night? I woke up and you were gone.”
“Yeah. I woke up early and went back to the guest room. I’m sorry you had to sleep on the floor, by the way. I really didn’t want to inconvenience you like that. It’s just…” Jungkook thinks back to their conversation from last night.
“You don’t have to be sorry about anything, Jungkook. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. And I get it, you know. Jimin and I used to share a room until I turned 12. It took me a long time to adjust to having my own room. So you can come to my room whenever you need to.” Taehyung is so kind and understanding. Jungkook can’t help but smile. “And I’m not sure if you heard me or not, but I told you that if you ever need to talk about anything, I’ll listen.” He rubs at the nape of his neck, “I- uh, I said that last night, but you kinda passed out on me. I just thought you could use a friend. I mean, you don’t have to talk to me. But if you ever need to.”
Jungkook stops his awkward ramblings, “Thanks, Taehyung. I appreciate it.”
Jungkook and Taehyung sit together at the island in the kitchen. A platter of egg dumplings await them on the counter, and there’s an untouched glass of milk set out. Taehyung points out that it must have been for Jungkook, because Taehyung doesn’t like drinking white milk. He only likes chocolate milk or strawberry milk. Jungkook smiles at how well Seokjin already seems to know him and accepts the milk with a smile. The boys can hear Seokjin getting ready in his room, but the house is otherwise silent.
Taehyung fixes himself a heaping portion of rice and two dumplings on the side. He starts eating while Jungkook eyes him suspiciously. “Let me guess, you’ve never had dumplings either?” He chuckles.
“Never that looked like that? What’s in them?”
“Eggs, mostly. And some vegetables.” Taehyung answers. He picks up a piece with his chopsticks and holds them out to Jungkook.
Jungkook accepts the food into his mouth and chews. His eyes grow wide, savoring the flavor. “It’s good.”
“Everything appa makes is good.” Taehyung smiles while he serves Jungkook some dumplings and rice.
“So, you have to go to school.” Taehyung nods. “Oh.” Although Taehyung doesn’t seem too upset about having to attend school over the summer break, Jungkook decides to leave it at that. He doesn’t want to insinuate that Taehyung might just not be a bright student. But he also doesn’t want to ask about any circumstances that may have caused him to get stuck in summer school.
A/N: Well, that's the origin. Let me know what you think of this AU??? I'm still messing around with it every once and a while. As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. There's a lot to unpack in here and I want to make sure it's appropriately warned. Please call me out for any errors you notice!
Under the Influence(CH.2)(Harrington!Reader)(Cousin AU)
CH. 2 Welcome to hell Hawkins
Summary: Summer is long and boring - but maybe your parents had the right sort of idea. You become reacquainted with your cousin, and your small-town adventure begins.
A/N: If you're here, thanks for returning and thanks for reading. If you're new, Welcome! you can find chapter 1 here We're still building, but we get to say hello to a familiar face, with more on the way soon! I swear Eddie is going to make an appearance in the near future!
...“It's decided. She’s going to Hawkins.”...
-⌘-
The sound of your fork hitting the plate as if it comes from miles away, your parent's voices blurring as your mind whirls.
Hawkins? Really? Did he think sending you away was the solution? It just solidified that you were not the child your parents wanted, and now they couldn’t even face you. You could hear your parents discussing things, your dad sounding calmer now, but you only caught bits of what was said. “Do you think that will help?”, “I can’t stand this all summer, Mary”.
Again, it was about them more than it was about you. They were selfish, you decided. They are selfish, stuck-up assholes. Eventually, they turned to you, the subject of their never-ending disappointment.
“Well, young lady, what do you have to say to that?” Your dad asked; surely he didn’t expect an answer from you? Surely he didn’t actually care about your thoughts on the matter? Not when it was blindingly clear they didn’t care one iota about who you were or what you needed. You felt defeated, a hollow ache in your chest threatening to consume all of you if you dared examine it too closely. You didn’t even notice the few tears that had escaped your eyes. “Fine”, you huffed, shoving your chair back, bonding your dinner in favour of the sanctuary of your room. Why fight anymore? They didn’t care enough to try to set you straight for more than a few days.
That night you cried. Not entirely sure why; you should have expected something like this would happen. In truth, you thought they would last a bit longer, at least two weeks, and then the anger would fade; work would reassert its dominance in their lives, and the grounding would be all but forgotten. You didn’t think they would get rid of you, like a sweater that was no longer in fashion. Once you heard them go to bed, you brought out the packet of cigarettes you had managed to hide away in your room and snuck out to the street outside your house. You wandered for a short while, smoking and thinking. You had two cigarettes left in that packet; you knew you would need more soon. All the stores nearby would be closed by now, not that you had your fake ID anymore. That had been swept away with your tapes - the cassettes being a convenient hiding spot for that particular piece of evidence of your misdeeds. You head to your friend Tina's house. A friend was maybe a strong word - you guys liked to smoke together. Tossing a few rocks at her window to get her attention, you beckon her down to the street. Filling her in takes a little longer than you would like.
“Dude, is it true you punched the principal?” She asked, eyes wide and searching your face. “What? No! Who told you that?” You ask, lighting one of the last cigarettes before handing it to her. “It’s all over school,” She says almost gleefully. “You’re a legend. Some kids are saying you tore up his office and got sent to juvie for assaulting him with a knife.” She chuckled before passing the cigarette back to you. “A knife? Seriously? The student body needs to get a handle on their fantasies.” You say, taking a long drag. “Well, as you can see, I’m not in juvie," she snorts and nods, the cigarette passing between you both. “I didn’t even really do anything. I got mad a screamed a little. I did break his clock, though.” You smirked at the memory of that stupid “teacher of the year” hitting the ground.
“Either way, y/n, you're never living that reputation down now. I even heard the teacher gossiping about it," which earned a groan from you. “What are you doing here anyway? You on the run?” She said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. You sigh and push your hair out of your face, “Kinda,” scuffing your toes along the pavement. “My parents are sending me away for the summer; they think it's gonna straighten me out” Tina laughs again and finishes the cigarette, dousing it on the street. “Damn, that sucks” “Yeah, they took all my shit, so my ID’s gone. I was wondering if you had any smokes stashed away you would mind donating to a legend in need” you give your best attempt at puppy dog eyes as you plead with your occasional smoking buddy. “Jeez man, ugh, I dunno. Hang on, lemme go check”.
As she retreated into her house, you sat down on the step, head in your hands. This is what it had come to. No friends to say goodbye to, just an acquittance to ask for favours from. Before you could wallow too deeply, Tina returned two packets in her hands. “All right, just because you're a legend now. I’ve got a full pack and a half pack,” she hands them over to you and pats your shoulder. “Make good use of them. I expect you to return the favour when you come back,” she says. “Thanks, Tina, you’re a lifesaver” “Yeah yeah, don’t get all mushy on me”. You give her a mock salute as you start to make your way back home. You would have to make these last.
-⌘-
You’re an expert at sneaking in and out of your house, but you're still relieved when you make it back inside without your parents stirring. Once back inside your bedroom, you tuck your newly acquired packets into your hiding spot - the belly of a stuffed animal that once carried a hot water bottle. You’d had it since Christmas 1972, the only year Grandpa Otis chose Chicago over Hawkins. He brought you the bear, and it had kept you warm for years; it was one of the few things your parents didn’t feel the need to remove from you. They probably thought it would remind you of better times. You stuffed the two boxes into the bear, having smoked that last of your own stash on the way home and disposing of the carton. Looking around your room, you saw the life your parents had wanted you to have. The soft pink walls that would seem cosy to some made you feel like you were suffocating. Looking in the mirror, you appeared out of place. Messy hair, flushed skin, and smeared mascara- the result of a seemingly endless supply of tears.
It took two days for your parents to arrange everything. “They're so looking forward to seeing you, dear,” your mom cooed as she 'helped' you pack. She relished the opportunity to get rid of the clothes she loathed the most. Your comfiest pair of Jeans, riddled with holes at the knees, were promptly removed from your bag and thrown in the trash. Usually, you would push back demand to keep them, but your fighting spirit is gone; why fight when they didn't even want you around anymore? You stopped seeing what went into your modest suitcase; it wasn’t much. You were only going for a few weeks, after all. In a shocking turn of events, you were given a modest allowance, $15 for the whole summer, so you didn’t have to be more of a burden on your Aunt and Uncle than you already were. It wouldn’t stretch too far based on your current spending habits - vices don’t come cheap, but from your parent's perspective, you weren’t supposed to be doing anything fun anyway.
-⌘-
You get off the bus in Indianapolis, yes, the bus; they didn't even have the decency to drive you to hell themselves and are surprised to see Steve waiting for you. You walk up to him, bags in hand and sweat forming on your brow. " uh... Hey,” you give him a small wave as he takes your suitcase, leaving you with your tattered backpack and heads for the trunk. "I was expecting either Aunt Pearl or Uncle Andrew - not that it's not nice to see you”, you say as you both get in the car. “Yeah, well, they both had to work this morning, and I'm their errand boy these days," he says, starting the car up "It's nice to see you too.” He says after a long silence. You give him a small smile as he turns the radio on the rest of the drive passing in comfortable silence.
As you arrive in Hawkins, it's hard not to notice the changes. The stores on Main Street were either closed down or looked like they were on the verge of it. Steve must have noticed you staring "they opened a mall,” He says with an easy tone, "it's a cool place, but it's tough competition” you nod silently. "I got a job at an ice cream place there; yeah, it's gonna do me for the summer, get me some life experience before going to college..." you let Steve ramble while you get lost in your thoughts.
Your Aunt is home by the time Steve pulls in the driveway. She hugs you as you come in, sending Steve to deposit your bags in the guest room.
" y/n dear, it's been so long, my you’ve grown up so much since we saw you last," you placate her with small talk, both of you avoiding the reason for your visit. She rambles about your parents, how much the town has changed in the past few years and about a few other things you don’t catch. You shift on your feet, you had been standing in the kitchen for about 15 minutes listening to her natter on, and it was starting to give you a headache. All you wanted was a smoke - you hadn’t had one since you got on the bus, and that familiar itch was creeping up your throat. She must have noticed your attention wandering then, “Oh, look at me twittering one. You must be exhausted, dear. Why don’t you get settled and washed up. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. ” You gave her a tight smile as you nodded and headed towards the guest room — your room for the next few months. It hadn’t changed much in the past few years; the room was a familiar shade of yellow - although the paper had been changed. It was stripped now, the last time you were here and had been swirly. It was a nice change from your own suffocatingly pink room back home.
Your bags sit on the bed, the soft pastels taunting you as your hang up the dresses and sweaters sets your mother had packed for you. You noticed that a few of the t-shirts you had picked out for yourself had mysteriously disappeared. You were left with one plain black shirt on one band shirt your mother obviously hadn’t looked too closely at. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you searched the rest of your bag. As suspected, you had been left with only two pairs of jeans - light wash and pristine. You thank your good sense for wearing your black pair on the trip. Luckily your hide-a-bear had made it to Indiana with you fully intact. You pulled out a carton of cigarettes without really thinking about it.
“I wouldn’t smoke those anywhere near the house if you know what's good for you” the sudden interruption jolted you as you remembered you hadn't even shut the door. “Jesus, Steve, you nearly gave me a heart attack," he chuckled as you stuffed the carton back into your bear and placed it pride of place on the middle of the pillows. “What the big deal anyway, you gonna rat me out?” Steve looks a little disgruntled as the words leave your mouth. “Nah, what you do to your body is up to you. But my dad has a nose like a bloodhound” he leant his body against the doorframe crossing his arms, and he looked at you, eyes serious and unwavering “I hung out with a friend once in junior year; they had one cigarette - I didn’t even touch the thing” His pitch was climbing, and a tone of defensiveness was creeping in “two hours later I came home, and my dad could smell it on me - Let's just say the aftermath wasn’t pretty” a grimace crosses your face as you wonder just what exactly your uncle’s punishment had been. You let out a heavy sigh and push your hair back off your face “sheesh, all right. well, thanks for the heads up.” He nods and moves to leave before turning back “besides, those things’ll kill you,” you smirk as he walks away. You close the door this time and stretch out on the bed. It was going to be a long summer.
-⌘-
Dinner is ready precisely as your uncle arrives home from work. It was a slightly awkward affair. Your Aunt was the epitome of sunshine on a cloudy day - her tone was always delightful, and she carried most of the conversation herself your Uncle emulated the clouds, passing brief grunts of acknowledgement and adding his pessimistic two cents to her stories. He finally addressed the dark cloud looming over your head towards the end of dinner.
“Now, Y/N, I think it’s time we discuss why you are here.” He pushes his empty plate away and reaches for his beer. Your Aunt goes to start clearing the dishes, and he stops her. “Not yet, Pearl; I think we all need to understand the ground rules here” Her eyes flutter once, then rest on the table in front of her; you catch Steve rolling his eyes as subtly as possible. Your Uncle clears his throat, getting your attention. “I am aware of your less than desirable behaviour, young lady.” He fixes you with a stare, giving you the impression that looking away would land you in a world of trouble “ Your school work is disastrous; you are rude and impetuous. I mean swearing at a teacher, your principal, no less! In my day, that would never fly. You're lucky your father didn’t beat the sense back into you long ago.” You flinched at the words, remembering Steves's face from earlier and understanding just what kind of man your Uncle was. Your father had a temper, but he had never been violent. “I understand from speaking with your father the conditions of your punishment whilst at home. You will be under the same conditions here. You will not leave this house without our express permission, you will not be out of this house any later than 10pm, you will not engage in any illegal activities, and most importantly, you will not make a spectacle of yourself in this town.”
As he lists the conditions of your sentence, you feel a flush creep up your neck and into your cheeks. You find yourself holding back tears, and whether they were borne of anger or sadness, you weren’t quite sure.
“I have a few conditions of my own.” He continued, “In this house, we earn our keep. You will have chores that will be completed to my standard without complaint. You may seek a summer job - should you be successful, the limits of your punishment will be renegotiated.” He finally takes a long sip of his beer, and your eyes slip down to the table. This is a side to your uncle you had never seen before, he was calm and collected, but you could sense the roiling storm under his words - the one that would break free should you disappoint him in any way. “Do we understand each other, Y/N?” You raise your eyes to meet his “Yes, sir” he gives you a curt nod and leaves the table. You understand from his mannerism that there will be no further conversation on the matter. Following Steve's lead you help to clear the table and take up position in the kitchen to do the dishes.
“He means it, you know”, Steves says as he scrapes leftovers into the trash, “huh?”, “His conditions,” Steve says with a raised eyebrow. “He’ll see them through.” His tone is sombre, but with an edge that you can’t ignore. You mumble and agree and nod as you dry the plate in front of you, returning it to the right cabinet once you’re satisfied. Steve continues, a little light entering his voice. “I mean, he is a man of his word. Nothing stronger than the Harrington word, y’know.” He’s preoccupied with scrubbing a baking dish. “He’ll follow through on that job promise. I took advantage of the same deal, if I’m honest.” You continue to dry and put away dishes quietly. “I could get you a job at Scoops if you’re interested. It pays crap, but it gets you outta the house” you consider it for a moment and flat him a smile. “Thanks, Stevie, but it doesn’t sound like my kinda thing. I’ll just be a house rat for the summer.” He nods as he hands you the last dish. “Besides, what’s a few weeks of solitude? Maybe I’ll get some reading done.” He huffs and runs a hand through his hair handing your the last dish of the evening. “Whatever floats your boat, lemme me know if you change your mind.” He pats the doorframe before leaving you with your thoughts. You sigh and lean against the counter, contemplating the lot life has handed you.
As you climb the stairs to bed, your mind swirls. You notice the creaks in the stairs, thinking about how in your own home, you knew the floors so well you could sneak in at 3am making less noise than a mouse. You would have a much harder time sneaking out of here. And even if you managed it, where would you go? The Harringtons were well known in Hawkins, and it was only a matter of time before everyone knew you were one of them. There would be no hiding in plain sight here. You stared at the bear on your pillow, itching to take its contents and release your stress, but Steves's words and your Uncle's threats echoed in your mind. No point risking it on night one.
You pick through the last of your things, a worn copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’ at the bottom of your backpack. It had been your favourite growing up, but you hadn’t touched it in a few years. The thumb the pages, soft under your fingers. You remember the first time your mom read it to you. You had a nightmare about the Witch, and it was a while before she read it to you again. But it quickly became a favourite and fuelled your love of reading. You sit it on the nightstand and pull out the magazines you’d bought at the bus station. Flicking through them until your eyes got drowsy and falling asleep with the lamp on.
WARNINGS: tw! mention of past abuse and violence! (nothing too descriptive)
A/N: The last drabble request for the 250 follower celebration!
#16: “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”
#23: “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
word count: 1.657
After the fight had broken out between the various Loki Variants, he had hidden in the far back of the bunker, waiting for the air to clear up again. It took a long while before he was able to step out from his hiding spot again. The bunker seemed to be fully abandoned now, everyone who could still walk had left it some time ago. The only thing left behind were the motionless bodies of unfortunate Loki's that hadn’t survived the turmoil. It begged the question if those had been actual Loki Variants or just sly imposters. Latter would explain the carnage Loki had to step over before he reached the battered couch that held itself together on a few brittle strings. He sighed heavily as he let himself fall onto it.
In what messed up state of affairs had he gotten himself? His loathing against the TVA only grew with each passing second he was forced to exist in this god-forsaken void.
His body tensed when he suddenly made out a faint shuffle and a tin can hit the floor before it rolled out from the shadows. His senses heightened instantly as he tried to make out from where and more importantly from whom this disturbance occurred
“Who’s there?” Loki jumped to his feet, summoning daggers out of thin air immediately. He clasped his fingers tightly around the handles as he slowly approached the pile of junk.
“No need to hide...” Loki cooed though his entire body was tense, “I can hear your breath… I can sense your..” Fear?
“Don’t be afraid… I’m not here to fight or to harm you.” Loki slowly unclenched his jaw and straighten up into a less intimidating posture. He stared into the darkness for what felt like an eternity when slowly but surely he could hear someone shuffle towards him hesitantly.
“A girl?” he whispered to himself in disbelieve as a little girl, maybe a teenager, came into his sight. Her face was beaten up and bruised, her clothes torn and covered in grime. She must’ve been in the void for quite some time. She looked brittle and exhausted.
“Are you a Loki, too?” the girl looked at him quizzically, “Or rather a Sylvie?” Loki inquired further, only receiving another confused glance from the girl.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he hadn’t received an answer. Maybe the girl tried to keep an upper hand by withholding information or maybe she had just swallowed her tongue since a stranger stood in front of her, still holding daggers In his hands. As quickly as he had summoned them, he let them vanish in his dimension pockets.
“I just wanted a safe place to stay.” the young girl sniffled upset, her shoulders relaxing visibly as the daggers disappeared before her eyes.
Now that Loki thought about his questions, it seemed to be an unnecessary one. Of course, she would’ve been in search of a safe place, so the lioth wouldn’t get her.
“I am Loki. Who are you?” he tried another, more sensible approach as he slowly approached her, extending his hand welcoming.
“I-I’m Y/N.” the girl mumbled sheepishly, gently shaking his hand. Loki almost shivered at her touch, her hands almost as cold as has his.
“Everything is ok now, Y/N. Yeah?” he noticed how Y/N seemed to shrink into herself every time he raised his voice to speak. His eyebrows furrowed as he could only imagine what that young girl had gone through to end up in the void.
“Can you remember how you got here?” he tried to soften his voice as much as he could as not to frighten her even more.
“I thought I was finally free..” Y/N sniffled the cryptic words.
“What happened, Y/N?” Loki asked softly.
“I was running away and suddenly I ran into someone. They grabbed me harshly and pulled me through this glowing door. And all of a sudden I was in this weird building and they stripped me of my clothes and made me sign stuff and this weird little man pushed me through some sort of body scanner?” she rattled off the events as quickly as possible.
“I see.“ Loki nodded, the same procedure he went through when he had arrived at the TVA.
“Then they put me in front of this judge and she accused me of so many crimes against some ‘sacred timeline’. They didn’t even give me the chance of defending myself, the woman simply proclaimed me guilty, sentencing me to pruning. I was torn away from the little pedestal and they just shoved this glowing stick at me. The next thing I knew, I woke up in this wasteland. First I thought they had sent me back to him…, but I was weirdly relieved when I couldn’t recognize my surroundings.” Back to him?
“You’re in the void,” Loki explained softly, not that this information helped her in any way. But maybe being able to name her whereabouts would make her feel more in control and less frightened, “You said you were running away. From home?” The young girl nodded sheepishly, her hands hidden in her long sleeves and her eyes fixed to the ground. Loki nodded slowly as he started to grasp the situation.
“So your bruises...” he rasped out.
“I already had them when they abducted me,” Y/N confessed ashamed.
“I’m so sorry.” Loki carefully placed his hands on her shoulder, expecting her to shake his hand off of her. When she didn’t shy away, he gently rubbed her arm comfortingly.
“Come on, let’s sit down.” Loki softly nudged her towards some crates that sat on the ground.
“How long are you here already?” he tried to distract her by diverting her focus onto another topic.
“I don’t know… it feels like months but at the same time like only a few hours.” she gnawed on her nails.
“And how did you find the bunker?”
“I saw the young boy and his grandpa from afar and wanted to ask them for help. But then I saw this crocodile-”
“Alligator.” Loki interrupted in thought, “Sorry. Go on.”
“I saw they had an Alligator and they started arguing and fighting with this guy with this hammer. That’s why kept my distance… I thought maybe they would lead me to more people but they ended up here and I simply followed because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“That was really smart of you.” Loki complimented her with a warm smile.
“Have you been here long?” Y/N asked only over a whisper.
“Honestly, I don’t know. As you noticed, time passes differently here.” Loki gave her a weak smile.
“Have you a plan to get out of here?” she asked as she played with her hair, trying to console herself with it.
“I don’t just yet… but as soon as I get out of here, I will burn this godforsaken TVA down to its ground.” Loki didn’t want to crush the little hope she might still have in her brittle bones.
“What is the TVA?” the question took Loki by surprise. Hadn’t they have the decency to explain to her what was happening? Hadn’t they shown her the video he got to see?
“The TVA is an organization created by the time-keepers that protect and preserver the proper flow of their so-called ‘sacred timeline’.” he began to explain thoroughly, “And if someone veers off that timeline that nexus event could result into a multiverse that could start another multiversal war. So they set back time on its predetermined path and erase anyone who hasn’t a place on that timeline anymore.”
“How can they just decide what's right and what's wrong? This is so unfair.” Y/N croaked out, tears were brimming in her eyes and only now Loki noticed how upset the young girl had become while he explained the function of the TVA.
“I don’t know… that’s why I’m trying to take these bloody bastards down.” he tried to calm her down.
“Who do they think they are?!” the sudden outburst of Y/N baffled Loki. She seemed to have done a full 180° in her demeanor.
“How can they just decide that it’s ok for people to be hit and abused but as soon as they try to take their destiny into their own hands, it’s wrong? That’s not right… it wasn’t my fault! It can’t be my fault!” she began to hiccup in between sobs that tore through her body.
“Hey, shhh. Y/N, come here.” Loki pulled her against him, securing her tightly against his chest, “I’m here. I won’t let them or anybody else hurt you ever again, ok?”
“They practically told me that that’s how my life is supposed to- to end…? He was supposed to...” Y/N choked on her words as she began to sob uncontrollably.
“Shh, it’s alright.” Loki pulled her even closer, gently rubbing her back and her hair, “Hey, don’t be scared anymore, I’m right here. They can’t do anything to you anymore.”
“Do you promise?” she cried against his chest.
“I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again. I will protect you from anything that will come our way. And I won’t let them decide over your destiny, ok?” he pulled her away slightly, just enough so he could look at her properly.
“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, knowing this was a big request coming from a stranger she only knew for some moments.
“Yes.” Y/N nodded weakly. What other choice did she really have anyway? Loki thought sorrowfully. He wiped away her tears and offered her a warm and reassuring smile.
“Come with me, I will get you out of this godforsaken hell hole.” his determination to destroy the TVA and get to take his destiny in his hand only grew more and more now that he had even more motivation to succeed. If not for him then for Y/N.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Wholesome, it might be ooc but who cares we need more soft screamer anyway. plus he totally simps for you even if he won't fully admit it to himself. Anyway, hope yall enjoy.
(TW: This is filled out and I put some traumatic scenes in there to represent similar things from my life so that when I shift there I have a AoT/SnK version of my life. There are talks about abuse in the section labeled "Trauma of Mother Titan")
Here is my script that I made on my google slides for AoT/SnK. I made it look like an old newspaper and thought I'd share it to give people some inspiration for their script layouts. This script has helped me better immerse myself into the world. Though I changed some of the personal information like my name and family's names and all of that so there isn't anything overly personal about it but feel free to make your own copy of it and edit it to fit your DR! Put the tag #NewspaperDrScript so I can see what you guys do with it!
As for the trauma part of it, the reason I didn't take it out is because it talks about the backstory of how I obtained my OC Titan so I left the quote in there that way you guys could get a better idea of what I did with the script and how the layout worked. However, below is a link to a blank template so if you don't want to look at the example, I have this empty one here for you lovelies! (Just replace the images/titles to your desire)
I got a lot of my templates for scripts from online templates and then I just edited them around to fit my needs. When I find the original template for this google slide I'll credit that one here too :)
summary: y/n’s mirror breaks while Reiner hears her crying, and Reiner is on damage control. emotional support ensues. angst and fluff.
a/n: I relapsed a week or so back, so this is my therapy writing. I was abused by my biodad as a child and this contains some irl examples of my feelings and experiences. Given that it’s pretty personal for me and lots of tears and vulnerability went into this, please keep feedback positive, respectful and constructive.
tw: mentions of abuse, assumed self-harm, depression, self-hatred, self-isolation
I can hear y/n sobbing again. Is that all she does now? Being a soldier is supposed to make you tough. Granted, I’m not any better. I knock lightly on the door. She must’ve covered her mouth, because her cries sound a little muffled, though the volume is still there for the most part. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quieter.” She calls. Suddenly I hear glass shatter and a shriek.
I quickly push the door open, and find y/n in her bathroom, standing with her legs against the tub, trying not to step in the broken glass. Her mirror somehow fell off its’ hinges despite being newly installed. I’ll have to report the renovation error. “Are you okay?” I ask, trying to be polite even though the direction of the question could provide two very different answers.
She looks down and whimpers, “I’m sorry.” Since I’m wearing boots, I trudge over through the mess, the crunch of the glass almost sounding like that of snow. “It’s alright. Let me carry you out of the room?” She nods in understanding, and I sweep y/n up bridal style, placing her on the carpet. I grab the standard broom and dustpan behind every door and start sweeping. “So, mind telling me what those other noises were about?” I ask, and hear her footsteps and the creaking of the door closing, the handle clicking into place.
“You would think it’s stupid.” Y/n says. I can tell she’s trying not to start crying again.
“I think you think I would think that, but I still would like to hear it.” I push. “You’ve been crying every day at this point. You’ve been missing from our group for so long that Porco stopped being an asshole to me. It worries me.”
She sniffs. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Well, I care about you, so I’m going to worry anyway. It’s kind of my job,” I state, “As your friend, and as your superior. I need you around, no matter which role I’m playing.” I deposit the swept up shards into the waste bin, put the tools away and cross my arms, leaning against the door frame in wait.
“I-“ She starts, then pauses, taking a deep breath. She looks up at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. A fruitless endeavor, really - sorrow is a wild river, flowing of its’ own accord, without regard for fragility of mind - she squeezes her eyes shut as if to dam the water, keep it from overflowing. “I’m not trying to cry, I’m sorry-“
“Don’t apologize.”
“Sorry, I just- I mean- um.” She fidgets, rubbing the inside of her wrist awkwardly. I notice faint scratches. My stomach flips, and I reach out to grab her hand before she can hide it.
“What is this?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I feel my throat tightening, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “Why would you do this to yourself? Do you have any idea how many people care about you? Do you have any sense of self-preservation? I- what?”
She’s murmuring something quietly, the tears she tried to trap spilling down her face like rain on a windowpane. She speaks up, just a whisper louder than she was before. “P-p-please l-let go of me.” I realize I’m squeezing her hand and let go, snatching my arms back and stuffing them in my pockets. Why am I so angry? That’s not the kind of person I’m supposed to be. Who am I supposed to be?
Y/n gasps, the sadness too much for tears alone. She starts shaking. “I’m sorry, I just- when I look in the mirror every day, I- I hate myself. I l-ook like him, inside and out, and, and I see-“ She swallows as if she’s trying not to drown and got water in her mouth. “I see what he did to me. I didn’t-“ She looks down. “I didn’t do that to myself, I-“ Another gasp, like she’s struggling to breathe. “It was done to me. When I was in trouble. So were the other marks. Not that I ever got to know what I did wrong.”
So stupid of me. Why did I just assume? Is it just because of my own ideas? God, this is why everybody thinks I’m selfish. “Other marks? He? Who is he? Is he still around?” I ask.
She sits on her bed, tucking her legs beneath her and hugging her knees, making herself visibly small. A whisper: “My dad.” The two words sting like white-hot iron. The gears are spinning in my head - how to find him, how to make him feel the pain his actions caused and then some for good measure. She must notice, because she says, “Please don’t do anything. It’ll just come back around to me.” The fog in my mind clears when I see her scooting away from me, physically distancing herself from my anger. I sigh, calming my violent thoughts.
I climb onto the bed, crawl toward y/n, and wrap her up in the biggest hug I can manage. Partially to comfort her, partially so she doesn’t see my face while hers is buried in my chest. “I am so sorry,” I say. “For what happened to you, about your mirror, and for getting angry. That’s not helpful to you right now.” I can feel her sobbing quietly into my shirt, the tears making it wet. “None of this is your fault.”
Her voice is muffled, but I can make out: “How can I possibly be good? How can I love myself? How can I not hate everything I see when all I see in that stupid, broken mirror is him, and everything he did to me? Why did he do it? What did I do wrong?”
I sigh, holding in the tears belonging to my own eyes. “Because you’re not him. Even if you look like him, that doesn’t mean you did what he did. You’re so kind, y/n, you’re too kind to even let anybody worry about you. You have so many friends and comrades who respect you, respect your integrity, your thoughtfulness, your contributions to not just the mission but to the entire world. Even if you don’t get a fancy plaque or title for it, you stay late, you do extra, you take the time to do your homework when you have an idea, and people look to you for leadership. You make the unit a family, not just an army. You’re more of a warrior than I am, y/n. You fight, every day, to overcome something so huge, and somehow you still have enough left in you to fight a couple other battles for our people, and for humankind. And you do it for all the right reasons. I envy you. I may be a warrior, but you’re a commander, a ruler, an Emperor, yet for some reason, all you want to do is help other people.” I pause, taking a breath. “He did what he did because he, a small minded, selfish excuse for a man, saw something in you that he knows he will never have for himself. That thing is your heart, your spirit, your character. It attracts all kinds of people to you, and he wanted to break your spirit, because he knew he would always be lonely and miserable. You are a good person, with a good heart, and there is nothing you did that places any blame on your shoulders. You were a child, and he was an adult who made choices of his own accord, and he will suffer the consequences of those choices by never feeling your warmth, never feeling your love.”
She looks up at me, shakily raising one of her hands to touch my cheek. Her fingers feel like the sun, dancing on my skin. She really is light, heating everything she touches. I want to close my eyes, lean into her touch, but her e/c eyes bore into mine, sharing this moment with me in its’ fullness. “Thank you.” Y/n says. “I-I don’t know if I can believe everything you said yet, but I want to try. And thank you for being a good friend.” She looks away and lowers her hand, doubt filling her features with lines. I immediately wish it was back where she had it, but I know this isn’t about me right now. She needs a friend. “I just wish I didn’t have to look like him. After he’s done such ugly things-“ A quick glance at her wrist- “I can’t help but feel...” She trails off, burrowing deeper into my embrace.
On cue, I hold her tighter. “Well. I don’t know how much help it is for me to say it, but when I look at you, all I see is you. You truly are beautiful, and no matter the marks he left on you, his efforts will never hide that beauty. I see a person who can gentle any horse, can make any jerk nice-“
She laughs, “Don’t talk about Porco like that!”
“-And you make the people around you better people. You don’t need a Titan form to be powerful. You already are.” I smile. I’m pretty sure Porco likes her, otherwise he wouldn’t mind his manners and his attitude around her. Something stirs in me - what is that? Jealousy? Or just the usual hatred? Whatever. Doesn’t matter right now. “I just wish you could see you through my eyes. You’d realize why everyone cares so much. So, stop keeping your problems to yourself, we’re called your friends for a reason.” I order.
Her face gets a little red. “Oh. Right. I just... didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“Bother everyone. You owe yourself that much.” I say, getting up after giving her one more squeeze. “Will you be coming to dinner later? No one’s seen you in public for a week.”
She looks at her feet. “I probably should, just so everyone thinks I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to be okay, you know,” I respond, “Just alive, so we can be of help. If you do come, I promise I’ll be nice to Porco. Also, Pieck has been asking about you.”
She smiles. “I do miss Pieck. And Porco. And I missed you, too, Reiner.” Something flutters inside my chest at hearing my name on her on her lips. “But, um. I’m just curious.” She says.
“Hm?” I prompt, giving her my full attention.
“How did you know what to say?” She asks.
I shrug. “I didn’t really know, I just... went with what I would want someone to say to me. I... I can kind of relate. In a way.” I turn the doorknob, but before the door opens, I hear her climb off her bed, rising to her feet. I wait.
“Reiner, I-“ Silence. Her feet pad across the floor, and I feel her arms wrap around me. I let go of the knob and turn to hug her back. “I really appreciate you,” She says quietly. “I’ll come to dinner, if that’s what you want.”
I say, “It’s what everyone wants, but yes, I admittedly, specifically, am hoping you will feel okay enough to show up. Plus, I don’t think staying alone in your room is super healthy.”
“It’s not so lonely when you come to visit.” She says to the buttons of my shirt.
“Perhaps I’ll visit more often, then.” I smile. “Just to check in, of course.” She nods her head and releases me, even though I wish she could’ve held me for just an eternity longer. She really does have healing hugs. I smile one last time, then make my exit, closing the door quietly behind me.
I sigh, the usual tension I feel missing from my shoulders. Even if I didn’t say much, opening up even a tiny bit about my feelings felt... nice. Maybe I’ll start visiting y/n instead of sitting alone in my sadness. She has a way of making me feel better, even when she isn’t trying. And she said she appreciates me! That makes one person, at least. I don’t let the smile I feel ghosting my lips stay for long, but it lingers a few seconds while I head down the hallway to the main corridor.
