#still be available the time I make a renting file (is it the right word in english?) and find a guarantor and get their papers quick and- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeongi · 6 years ago

Text

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 |��13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps.

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious.

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #armiesnet #bangtanarmynet #ggukienet #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan smut #btssmutclub #networkbangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts #oneshot #fic #kpop

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burntmcnuggies · 5 years ago

Text

Maybe

Hawks x Ex-Hero! Reader

Warnings: strong language and that’s it! Just fluff! :D please enjoy <3

“Marry me, (Y/N). Be the sauce to my chicken nuggets.”

“No thank you, Mr. Hawks. Are you here for an appointment with Enji or another attempt to get me to go out with you?”

“Heh, didn’t expect the flame-hero’s secretary to be so cold. Haha! Marry me (Y/N)?”

“No thank you.”

This was practically a daily routine for you. You worked at Endeavors agency as a secretary for the new number one hero. You scheduled his appointments, did some paperwork here and there while he was off on patrol, the usual stuff. It’s what your job application consisted of. However, being pestered everyday by the same man was not in the job description. Pro-hero Hawks has been courting you for months now, asking you at least once everyday to go out with him, go on a date, or marry him. There was even a pool within the office with people predicting how many times a day he asked you out. You maintained a very professional relationship with Hawks. Him and Endeavor worked very close together, so you needed to be as composed as you could be around the two top heroes.

“Are you pestering my secretary again, Hawks?” You turned to see the one and only Endeavor standing there with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. The flames around his face flickered in irritation seeing the winged-hero leant up against your little desk with his wings spread and a cocky smirk over his lips. “Ah, Endeavor, nice to see you too.” He grinned and folded his crimson wings against his back. You smiled and stood up, respectfully bowing to your boss. Endeavor smiles to you and nodded, letting you sit back down at your desk to get back to work. Hawks closely watched the exchange and narrowed his eyes a bit with a pout, his bushy brows furrowing. “You just want to keep her all to yourself don’t you Endeavor?” Hawks face turned serious all of a sudden, and many other employees came and began to listen.

You looked up having a bad feeling about this. “You get to stare at her beautiful face all day, and her sexy ass, and hear her angelic voice, I’ll report you for being a pervert and hitting on your secretary.” His face lit up happily. The glow of orange that reflected from Endeavor’s flames became brighter hearing Hawks say such dirty things about his secretary. “Then... once you’re reported, I can steal her away to work at my agency! I can imagine it now!” He said and raised his hands up, slowly sliding them apart in amazement. You sweat dropped and watched the dork of a man in front of you. “She’ll be dressed in a cute maids outfit... and in her hands-“ His mouth began to drool. You obviously knew where this was going. “She would be serving me some delicious chicken nuggets. And then we’d go home and snuggle in our nest!” He hugged himself happily with a small blush on his cheeks.

“GET. OUT!!” Endeavor raged a bit, his flames spiraling above his head and covering his face in a red and orange glow. You smiled at the exchange between the two and finally got yourself back to work, hoping to not be interrupted again. “Oh! (Y/N) wait!” Hawks slipped away from Endeavors grasp and smiled at you while leaning up against the desk with his wings coming to spread again. You were familiar with birds and how the males spread their wings to show dominance and to possibly attract female birds. You weren’t at all surprised. A small crimson feather flew from a place in his wings, and he nestled the tiny feather behind your ear making it match your red and black suited outfit you wore to match the company. “(Y/N).” He began. You blinked. “Yes, Mr. Hawks?”

“...marry me, please?”

“HAWKS!!”

——

“Mornin’ sweet cheeks!” Hawks greeted with a sly smile. You’re looked up and nodded towards him, typing away at the computer and looking at Endeavors appointments for the day. You failed to notice the number two hero pouting and taking notice of the feather he gave you yesterday nestled in the breast pocket of your professional suit. He smiled cheekily and leaned up against your desk, propping his head on his hand. “You won’t find me in that computer, babe. I’m all right here for you to poke and touch all you want~” He flirted suggestively and spread his wings out wide. You glanced at his beautiful wings and silently admired them before looking into his golden eyes behind a small shade of yellow. They really were beautiful. “You do have an appointment today, Mr. Hawks. I’ve let Enji know you’re ready.” Hawks pouted again.

“Why do you always call him by his name? Seems very unprofessional to me, and you know how much I hate formalities my lil nugget!” He gave you a wide close eyed smile, passively showing off his jealousy for you calling Endeavor by his name. You thought for a moment, and finally came to the conclusion it wouldn’t be too bad to tell Hawks about you and Endeavor. “We went to U.A. together. I helped him start his agency. I wasn’t a popular hero so I came and worked as his receptionist. We have a great sense of trust and friendship. So I call him by his name because of our familiarity with each other.” Hawks eyes sparkled and he grabbed onto the edges on the desk, his crimson wings flapping happily. You cocked your head a bit confused as to why he looked so happy. “You were a hero? That mean you still have your license?”

You nodded. He laughed and stared at you dreamily. You were really his kinda woman. “Mmm, well now I know what to talk about with Endeavor. I really just scheduled this appointment so I could have more time to stare at you!” You sighed and shook your head. He really was a strange hero indeed. You stood up and gathered some papers before turning on your heel and making your way towards the elevators. “I’ll walk ya up there, chickadee!” You sweat dropped at all his goofy nicknames for you, all having to do with birds. Dove, chicken nugget, chickadee, etc. It was honestly very cute. “I have to give these to Enji before his meeting with you. They’re very important.”

“Let me help ya.” He deployed a few of his feathers and plucked those papers right out of your hands and they whisked away up to the number one hero’s office. You watched those important files slip from your grasp so easily and leave up to the top floor. A frown graced your lips. “Mr. Hawks, please. As much as you-“ You stopped right in your tracks when you noticed a blush creeping to his face accompanied by a small smirk. Something you failed to notice was a small tickle on your belly. You looked down and flushed red seeing one of Hawks crimson feathers holding your skirt up a bit to see what color panties you had on. Good day to wear your favorite pair. “‘Keep dreaming’? Oh baby I will.”

“HAWKS!!!” The sound of your out of character voice caught him off guard as you jerked your skirt back down. He only saw the hem where the words were, but it was still embarrassing. He’d never heard your voice like that besides the professional tone you always held. Everyone turned their heads towards you at your sudden outburst, and your face was bright red. Your hands immediately went to our face and you quickly walked away, hoping to catch the elevator and get away from Hawks. “Wow... I need ta remember how amazing your voice is! I’ll think about it now when I go to bed!” He grinned and followed right behind you like a lost puppy. You turned and glared at him, displaying your anger. This only made him up his game. “Ya know... I made reservations for two at Yoritomi. I need a special date! I rented out the whole restaurant just to spend time with this one woman... if only she’ll say yes...?”

This was peer pressure.

You gave a heavy sigh. “Take one of your fan-girls. They’d love to go with you. They’ll always say yes.” You kept your head low entering the elevator with the winged hero following behind you. He tapped and rubbed his chin in thought, but it was obviously a facade since you knew he was going to say something about wanting you to come with him. “That is true... but I like when girls are hard to catch~ I usually go to easy women for sex.” You didn’t know whether to feel offended, jealous, or flattered. On one hand he admitted he liked you, on the other, he also admitted he had indulged a few female fans and women who wanted him. You were sick of his perverted comments, so you fired one back before stepping out of the elevator at the last second. “Well, I like my men tall and strong. It also wouldn’t hurt if he were a famous hero... preferably the number one~”

You winked and turned on your heel, leaving the hero stunned. You were joking obviously, and you were sure he knew that, but it would still leave a sting of jealousy in him. The hero huffed with a pout and aggressively began to press the open button on the door, but to no avail. He hated that you were teasing him, but at least you were teasing him. Before you had nothing to do with him, just blandly saying no and continuing to work. Now, you were teasing him and taunting him. “You’ll be mine my little bird, someday just you wait!” He gave a confident grin and put his hands behind his back while he rode the elevator up. A familiar ding echoed in his ears and he stepped out only to be met with a thick chest covered by navy and small flames. “Ah! Endeavor!”

“I hope you aren’t here to waste my time again, Hawks. I have better things to do than listen to your mindless talking.” The blonde hero laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets, kicking his feet out and walking stiff-legged. Endeavor groaned in annoyance at his carefree childish attitude and sent him a glare. The lower ranked hero held his hands up in defeat and sighed blissfully. “Nope, I’m here to make a negotiation.” The flame hero cocked an eyebrow at the younger man and crossed his arms over his toned and heavily muscular chest. He was not too keen on listening to Hawks’s careless banter. “I promise I’ll leave ya alone! Just negotiate with me, and I’ll make sure it’s worth your time!” Endeavor sighed and opened his office door for the winged hero.

“It better not be what I think it is.”

—

“Isn’t this great? Our first patrol together. This’ll definitely be one for the books don’t cha think, (Y/N)?”

“Yes Mr. Hawks...”

“Nah Ah! Just Hawks sweetheart. No need for formalities. In honesty I just hate them!” He gave a carefree smile and strolled along the streets with his favorite little secretary. He only heard a sigh in return. You were dressed in your old hero costume that squeezed all your curves in the right way. He smirked and whistled lowly. “Ya know, I can feel all the people staring at you, and it’s honestly making me realllyyy jealous.” His wings slowly spread in a possessive manner, shielding your curvy body from the watchful eyes of perverted men. You looked over at him questionably. You could feel the warmth radiating off his wings, and the soft feathers that barely grazed your smooth skin. It sent shivers down your spine. “Well I’m sure I can say the same about all your fan girls. They stare at you and fantasize right there with no shame.”

...wait...

Your eyes widened as soon as you heard his silence. Terrified eyes slowly cast over towards him, regretting your words instantly seeing his cocky smirk. “Ahh~ so girls staring at me makes you jealous? Well how bout we make everyone jealous.” He retreated his wings and replaced his large wing with his arm, tightly coming around your waist. If your cheeks weren’t red before they are now upon his sudden bold move. You had no idea what to do. “Be honest with me, okay? How long have you really had feelings for me, (Y/N)?” You had to compose yourself immediately. You were a professional woman. Needed to be professional with Hawks and not engage in anything romantic or sexual. “Please Mr. Hawks. The only reason I’m out here with you is because Enji-“

“Hawks. Just. Hawks.” Your mouth closed shut after that. His tone was all you needed to know how upset and irritated he was. In all honestly, you did have feelings for him, but you wanted to keep a professional relationship to keep him and yourself from being hurt, again. “I’m sorry, Hawks, but... I have my reasons to be professional. I have my reasons not to date you. Please drop it.” The winged-hero wasn’t expecting such an annoyed answer from you. Usually you would groan and just roll your eyes at his childish demand to drop formalities. You walked ahead of him on your patrol. “I used to date a pro hero. Before he cheated on me, and humiliated me and my career. That’s when I quit the hero business, and returned to help my best friend climb the ranks. As he deserves. For all of his hard work. Now please. Drop romance, Mr. Hawks.”

This stunned him into silence. Someone had cheated on you? Pro hero? Humiliated you? He was now desperate to know more. “Hey woah! You can’t just drop somethin’ like that on me. You gotta explain a bit more, I may know-“ You rudely cut him off by grabbing his collar and yanking him close to you. The look in your eyes killed him to the core. You were still beautiful, even heartbroken and angry. “You don’t know how I feel Hawks. Knowing you, you’ve probably cheated on multiple women. Look at you. You’re charming, handsome, charismatic, friendly, everyone adores you! But they don’t know the real you do they? They don’t know that you’re selfish! Greedy! And just a plain scumbag!”

“You’re a really bad liar ya know?” He stared at you blankly when you grabbed his collar. He seemed unfazed by you holding his fluffy collar. His eyes and ears had quickly picked up on people staring and muttering going around everywhere. He grabbed her waist quickly and flew to the air, holding her close to him, landing on a roof not too far away. You were screaming and begging him to put you down until you opened your fearful eyes and saw the city. You were captivated by the view, no longer worrying about Hawks or your past lover. Just the scenery. Soon, Hawks landed on a billboard post, staring out at the city. “...This is one of my favorite places to come to be alone.”

You looked over at him as he stood at the very edge and stared down at all of the people. All safe and sound. “Never dated anybody. Too busy with hero work to even consider having a girlfriend. But all that changed when I met you, (Y/N).” You flinched hearing his confession, his voice laced with all seriousness, void of any of his playful sarcastic tone. His genuine words of love. “Whatever hero dumbed you... and humiliated you was an idiot. You’re perfect. You always have been. And always will be to me. I try to impress you all the time. My wings-“ He spread his majestic crimson wings, showing off his presence loud and clear. Sharp and dangerous, his wings held such power, and so did Hawks. “-I always outstretch them for you to get you to notice me. I try to court you. It’s how I am. As a bird-man, I’ve adopted some of the traits. That includes... finding a mate.”

“M-Mate...? You mean... you want to make me your mate?” Hawks turned and gave you a firm nod with a reassuring smile. Your heartbeat began to pick up as you stared at the man in front of you. This hero, so genuine and pure, it was almost impossible to think he was even human. He must be an angel in disguise. “Hawks mate for life, chickadee. I want you beside me. Be my partner, stay with me so I can protect you. I promise to make you happy. I promise to keep you safe. I promise to always love you.” Your face glistened a million shades of red hearing his words. The sun was setting at this point. He looked so beautiful. The orange glow gently hitting his face and only illuminating his golden avian eyes, making his wings appear larger and more magical. “I... I don’t know Hawks... I’m still...unsure and scared... and Enji-“

“Call me Keigo, (Y/N). It’s... my real name.” Your eyes widened hearing Hawks’s real name. You were surprised he even revealed it to you. That was how much Hawks trusted you. You sighed and smiled. “Well... let’s make a negotiation. We can go on a couple dates... and If they go well, I’ll agree to be your mate, forever... Keigo. Just please don’t... break my heart.” Hawks wings folded back against his back and he smiled genuinely, not some smug smile or that stupid charming smile he’d show his fans, a smile full of love, only for you. He grabbed your hand shamelessly and pulled you to dangle your feet off the high building post. “Never, dove.” He did the same, still holding your hand.

“Marry me, (Y/N). Be the sauce to my chicken nuggets.”

“...Maybe. You stupid bird brain.”

#takami keigo #hawks x reader #pro hero hawks #hawksbnha #keigo takami x reader

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eryiss · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hello everyone. I’ve been wanting to write something longer for this couple for a while, and this idea seemed quite fun. I hope you all enjoy it and maybe I can convert some of you to living Freed x Gajeel. Happy reading.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter One - Makarov's Idea

As he walked towards the guildhall, Freed kept looking up at the moon.

The nights sky was cloudless and gave him an unhindered view of stars and the moon. It was a beautiful sight, but made him frown a little. The moon was large and nearly in its fullest state, a concern for the time of year. It had been some time since the full moon had coincided with the longest day of the year, and it seemed like it was going to happen again this year. The brimstone in his blood seemed to fizz at the idea, and he quickly looked away.

At his side, Laxus bumped his shoulder to get his attention. His frown told Freed that the dragon-Slayer had seen his concern, and he smiled to comfort the man.

"Nothing to concern yourself about," Freed assured him. "I've got it under control."

"Make sure you do," Laxus instructed. "No missions until it's over, right?"

"Of course," Freed nodded.

Laxus seemed to think the matter settled at that, but Freed wasn't so sure. The entirety of the guild - or at least those not already on missions - had been called to the guildhall that night. Makarov hadn't explained why he wanted everyone present, but it was entirely possible that they would all be dragged away on a mission and that Freed would be forced to act as if everything was normal. So promising that he wouldn't go on any missions was more wishful thinking than anything else.

Still, if he did have to go on a mission, he could handle it. Six years ago, it had taken him by surprise. Not this time.

"Let's take bets," Bickslow, unaware of the hushed conversation, stated mischievously. "Fifty-fifty odds of it being either a world ending disaster we have to deal with, or some weird competition so he can perv on the gals again."

Laxus winced at the second option, but didn't deny it.

"It better not be the second one," Evergreen huffed. "But knowing him, it probably will be. So I'll put five hundred jewels on that."

"Nah, it's been too long since we all nearly died," Bickslow shrugged. "Five hundred on the world ending. You two sticks in the mud gonna get involved?"

Freed had stopped listening to their conversation moments before, and found his worries back on the sky. The full moon had been scheduled in exactly one week, and it meant trouble for him. He should be making preparations in case he lost control of himself; this was all a distraction. He should leave town, just in case.

His team looked at him in concern, but remained quiet.

As they approached the doors, Freed's mind remained preoccupied. A hand clasped onto his shoulder and jerked him back, and he realised it was Laxus. He frowned, only then realising he had nearly walked into Gajeel Redfox. The dragon-slayer glared at him, arms crossed to highlight his biceps. He didn't have much else than his physical strength, Freed supposed, so he had to show it off.

"Idiot," Gajeel spat at Freed, and Freed nearly scoffed at the hypocrisy of the word. If either of them was an idiot, it was not Freed.

Gajeel was walking into the hall before Freed could retort.

"God, who put a stick up his ass?" Laxus muttered as he shook his head. He looked down to Freed again, looking worried. Perhaps he hadn't believed Freed's assurances as Freed had hoped. "You need to go back? He ain't taking over yet, right?"

"No, I was distracted, that's all," Freed assured him, but none of his team looked happy. "I'm in control of myself. But I've got plans on how to approach the demon should I need them."

"Can we help?" Evergreen asked.

"I'll ask if I need it, but I don't suspect it'll happen," Freed placated them. They were still unconvinced. "You needn't coddle me, I'm fine. Particularly when there's apparently a fifty-fifty chance that the word is ending. Though, I'm putting five hundred jewels on the competition."

Apparently, the mention of gambling, broke the ice.

When they got inside the guildhall, it was more crowded than normal. All the tables on the lower level had been taken, and as such they were forced to climb to the S-Class balcony and sit there. None of them particularly minded that, and they waited for a short while for the rest of their guild mates to file in and settle, drinking and talking as they did so.

Eventually, Makarov walked onto the stage and stood before the crowd of wizards. After a few shouts for them to be quiet, the room fell into silence.

"Thank you all for coming," He began after clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering why we're here."

"For you to creep on us," Ever mumbled, and Bickslow snickered.

"Fairy Tail is a guild with its bedrock founded on the principles of friendship. We work so well because we work together. Whereas other guilds maybe have one or two teams, we have many," Makarov explained, gesticulating as he spoke. "It makes me so proud that you've forged these relationships and implemented them into your working lives. Your friendship and love allows you to work together to fight harder and become stronger, side by side as friends. I'm immensely proud of you all, but as of late I've noticed a problem with your work."

He paused, and Freed rolled his eyes. Everything was so dramatic with him.

"While you're very good at working with your own teams, you sometimes struggle working with the guild members you're unfamiliar with," Makarov continued, as if this statement were a tragedy. "And sometimes your teams won't be available, and I don't want you not taking group jobs because your regular team isn't around."

"Starting to think I bet on the wrong side," Bickslow grumbled, taking a drink.

Freed found himself only half listening. Whenever Makarov made an announcement there would be a lot of preamble that Freed didn't particularly care to listen to; not when he had bigger problems to deal with.

Perhaps, if his demon did become more powerful under the moon, he could rune himself into a cage of sorts. That might work, though perhaps physical manacles and shackles might be more practice. His team would be able to help with that, most likely. They wouldn't be happy about it, but Laxus had seen first hand what could happen when the demon was allowed to take over without restraint. He would understand.

No. He was worrying for nothing. The demon was under control now. Besides, he should be listening to his guildmaster.

"So, to broaden your opportunities, I've come up with an idea," Makarov grinned. "For the next week, you'll be split into pairs that you don't normally work with, and you'll spend all of that time training together. These partnerships will be random, and by the end of the week you'll be fighting side by side in a tournament to prove how well you can work together."

Hm, maybe a distraction would work better than restraints. Makarov's idea was flawed to the point of pointlessness, but a week of training might wear his body out to the point his demon wouldn't have the energy to take over.

"And, I'm sure you're all thinking why you should care about this, so there's a prize set up for the team who wins," Makarov was grinning wider now. "Fifty thousand jewels!"

That sent a rush of excitement and talking through the guild. Freed found himself wondering where the money actually came from.

"That's not all. The fights will be ranked on teamwork, cohesion and communication, and at the end of each fight you'll get points based on how well you did," Makarov was running his hands together. "And the team with the least points will have to do a punishment, and the winners decide what it is!"

"Goddamnit," Bickslow mumbled, handing money to Evergreen. "Always about punishments with him."

"If you knew that, then you should have bet smarter," Evergreen laughed.

Freed ignored his friends, leaning back and watching as Mirajane brought out a large, ridiculous top-hat. It wasn't difficult to guess that this was how Makarov intended to randomly choose the teams; pick them out of a hat. Maybe Laxus was right and his grandfather was turning mad, but he seemed to be enjoying himself so Freed had no place to complain.

He would simply drink his beer, watch the chaos unfold, and use the oncoming disaster as a distraction.

——

Gajeel swallowed down his beer with a scowl on his face. When Makarov had called this meeting, he had known that whatever the old crow had to say, it would piss him off. When Makarov had made his announcement, Gajeel had been proven right.

A whole week with some random wizard seemed pointless. Gajeel worked alone, and only teamed up with people when needed. This wasn't going to work.

Fuck, it was such a waste of time! He could be doing jobs and earning his rent instead of fucking around with a stranger, trying to embrace Makarov's ridiculous mantra about the importance of friendship. Or if he wasn't making money, then he would have at least liked to relax and take some time to rest. He didn't want to make a new friend, he wanted to eat, sleep and maybe find a guy to take to bed. None of that would happen with some Fairy Tail mage hanging around his neck.

"Our first team is," Makarov began as he rummaged through the stupid hat he'd had made. "Juvia and Natsu!"

Dammit! Juvia was one of the few people he could have tolerated. The other was the bookworm, and Makarov would probably say them working together wasn't in the spirit of things.

Still. At least the salamander had to work with someone who extinguished his fire. That was funny.

"Kickass!" Natsu yelled into the crowd, standing up and pumping his fist in the air because he lacked self control. "We're gonna dominate!"

They wouldn't.

"If you'd like to meet up and discuss your plans then now's the time," Makarov stated, and Natsu was making his way to Juvia immediately. "And now it's time for the next team up," He reached into the hat again. "It's Evergreen and Lucy."

No loss there. Maybe he and blondie could have been okay, but Gajeel wasn't pissed the chance was gone.

Lucy looked up toward the balcony and waved at Evergreen a little intimidated. Evergreen looked resigned, but after some nudging from Bickslow, made her way down the stairs and started to talk to the woman. Gajeel absentmindedly wondered if the two had ever had a conversation, because they looked awkward around each other; painfully so.

Fuck, that was going to be him, wasnt it?

Maybe he could convince whoever he was paired up with to lie and say they trained when they just spend the week alone. But then there was the tournament, and the threat of some random punishment, and Gajeel had already been humiliated after losing the guild-wide race and having to dress like an idiot; it wasn't happening again if he could help it.

"Next up," Makarov reached into the hat again. "Bickslow and Gray."

"Fuck yeah, some eye candy at last!" Bickslow yelled, and people laughed. Gajeel rolled his eyes, watching as Bickslow leant over the banister and looked towards his teammate. "Wanna make a deal, every time you strip, I strip."

Gajeel could see Gray avert his gaze as if bored, but he was red in the cheeks. They were even redder when Bickslow tossed his shirt towards him, both men now partially stripped.

Well, at least he wasn't with that idiot. The two of them would be a mess.

Many other teams were announced, and Gajeel found himself more and more annoyed each time. The partnerships made no sense, most of the time their magics wouldn't compliment each other, and Gajeel knew that it would end in disaster. At best, half of the partnerships might end up having a fight with each other, and at worst people would get hurt because they just didn't work. How the hell did Makarov think this was going to work out?

Maybe Gajeel should have slunk out and not attended the meeting. He was running out of money for rent, and his landlord was a bastard just waiting to kick him out, so it made sense for him to get a job. Maybe if he left now he could avoid it altogether.

"And next we've got Gajeel," Makarov shouted, and Gajeel cursed. "And Freed."

Oh fuck no. Absolutely fucking not!

Gajeel was not working with that stuck up prick. A guy like that had clearly never worked a day in his life, probably grew up in a fancy ass house and only got into guild work because it was a trend to slum it with the other wizards. Everything about Freed - holier than thou - Justine screamed pampered brat. He would probably throw a fit if he got dirt under his fingernails. He was the damn opposite of a man like Gajeel, and he knew he'd struggle not to murder the spoiled shit before the week was over.

Could he even defend himself? He had magic, but as far as Gajeel knew, that only worked when he had time to prepare. Hardly practical in the heat of battle, and what would he do without it? He wouldn't have the balls to use his sword as a weapon, Gajeel was pretty sure of that, and he looked like a gust of wind could take him out.

Fucking dammit. The salamander was better than this!

He damn near walked out of the guildhall then and there, because he couldn't deal with an egomaniac freak for a week. But, as he went to move, he saw the egomaniac freak walking towards him, and he was not going to allow Freed to think he was running away. He turned in his chair to meet the man's gaze but didn't make a move towards him. Freed could come to him, not the other way around.

Soon, Freed was in his space, standing above him. His expression was as unimpressed with the situation as Gajeel felt. At least they could agree on one thing.

He looked up to meet the mans gaze. Freed was… taller than he thought.

"I think it's fair to assume neither of us want to do this," Freed said rather than greeting him. Gajeel was right, he was a dick. "And I expect that the way I train myself won't be the same way you do, so likely there's a chance we'll come to blows, so I have a proposition."

Huh, maybe Freed was gonna suggest they lie and only pretend to train together. Gajeel would agree, but make Freed squirm first. "Yeah?"

"If we went somewhere and tried to train how we both normally do, it would be an act of futility," Freed explained. "We have six days to work together. I propose that for the first three days we train however I wish, and you follow my instructions. For the latter three days, we train however you wish and I will follow your instructions. That way, we both get three days of training ourselves in a way we know works, and the week won't be a waste of time entirely."

Huh.

That wasn't what Gajeel had thought, but he could deal with it. He had to admit, trying to find a way that would work for them both would not work, so this meant he'd at least have three days to improve himself.

"Fine," He grunted. "But I wanna go first. You're gonna drag me to some library or something like that, and that's a waste of time. Might as well make it a rest day after some actual working out."

Freed sighed, as if dealing with a child, and Gajeel nearly kicked him in the balls. "If you insist,"

"I do."

"Well then, I'll see you on Monday."

"Guess ya will."

That was it, and Freed turned to go back to his table. Gajeel emptied his drink, then grinned. Three days where the asshole had to do as he said; that was interesting. Freed probably spent his life being pampered and spoiled, but not with Gajeel. Nah, he was gonna work. Gajeel was gonna put Freed through hell and love every damn second of it.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #freed justine #gajeel redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #Canon Divergent #Multi Chapter #Chapter One #Word Count: 2.75k

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the-silentium · 5 years ago

Text

Jinx

Masterlist

Pairing: The Swedes x Reader

Words: 3300 words

Warnings: Mention of semi-nudity.

A/N: Hey dear people. I know I usually write for Five, but I had to write at least once for these nice brothers who I clearly love too much. @jossambird this one is for AND is because of you. Please enjoy!

What made you pleasant in the brothers’ eyes was exactly why people generally avoided you. You didn't talk much, always preferring to stay by yourself instead of gathering into groups, passing your time daydreaming, and drawing on a weird small board instead of drinking collectively with the rest of the Commission's workers. You had a perfect mission success rate and to the surprise of many, you always came back unscathed. A lot of agents asked you about your methods but you never answered, much to their annoyance. Not even your supervisor knew, not that he minded.

So a majority of the Commissioners treated you like an outcast, someone to be left alone and forget. In your time as a reject, you met the only trio that was as silent as you. You never planned on accepting more than one cooperative mission with them, but something attracted you to the brothers. Maybe it was their acceptance of your personality, how they never forced you to express yourself and treated you like a normal person or perhaps it was the bond they shared that made you desire to not be alone anymore.

The boys didn't mind your presence around them. They quickly realized that a lot of the rumors about you were false, you had so much more to give to those who accepted your introvertness. You were diligent in everything you were a part of, always taking initiative before the brothers even asked you to do something, you were observative enough to predict what they needed and always gave them a helping hand whenever they asked. You were a hard worker, that was for sure. On the other side, after a couple of missions alongside you, they noticed that you often put everyone's need before your own, so they had to keep that in mind.

A year later, you were an unofficial member of the group, accompanying them more often than not on their trips. Oscar became your best friend, the one with whom you'd share the second twin size bed available in the crappy motel rooms, the one who had managed to make you open up about your past -some part of it, at least- and the one who would always hold your hand whenever the dark was too much for you to handle.

Axel was often the one to make you laugh, with his snarky remarks to Oscar's stupid pranks or with his silly fire camp stories. (The boys will never tell you that, but these stories were made solely for you as a mean for Axel to hear your melodious laugh. Never did the older brother tell his siblings stories of the sort. Oscar and Otto were quick to realize their brother's enamored behavior, to which Axel threatened them to keep their mouth shut about.) To your delight, Axel even let you cook meals from your country. He often helped you around the kitchen just like you often did when he was the cook.

To your embarrassment, you systematically seemed to fall asleep on Otto whenever he was your couch buddy. His body heat mixed with his height made it perfect for his bicep to serve as your pillow. He always said that it was fine, that you needed the rest but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling ashamed. In return, you made sure that you helped him with the chores and the cleaning.

You smiled as you stopped the vacuum, admiring your handy work. Wherever you guys went, the stray cats were always welcome into your little temporary home, meaning that cat hairs were everywhere. This time wasn't so bad, the only two stray felines passed the majority of the time on someone's knees seeking body heat.

You put away the vacuum in its rightful place and made your way to your bed. It was rare, but sometimes you had your own bed. You were grateful that Otto found a place for rent, causing you to have your very own room for the first time in three months. You loved Oscar but you couldn't wait to remove your pants and bra and walk around your room with only a baggy t-shirt and panties on.

You passed the table where Axel was reading a file and Otto was bent over a map marked with red dots here and there. You stopped at Otto's side in hope of catching his attention. It didn't take long.

"I finished the vacuum, you won't have to do it later." You smiled as he huffed and rolled his eyes, unsurprised that you hadn't listened to him when he told you to take the day to yourself and let him do the cleaning. "If you guys need me, I'll be in my room."

Otto hummed in response as Axel nodded, a small smile on his lips. You had to curl up your toes to refrain yourself from moving forward and do something stupid. Quickly, you turned around and walked to your room, glancing for a second at the snow covering the houses, trees and yards. The sight was truly bewitching, although you weren't a fan of the cold temperature.

Looking under your bed, you pulled out your bag and searched around in its depth, taking out your fully charged iPad and apple pencil.

Drawing has always been a part of you, despite what it caused. You had to get your thoughts and ideas out of your head and drawing was your way of doing it. All you had to do was find a way so no one could see your drawings. It wasn't easy with your old sketchbook, anyone could find the book and open it, so you requested an iPad with a compatible pencil and locked it with a very complex password.

You verified that the door was completely closed before caving to your wants and discarded any unnecessary clothing, leaving you in your most comfy oversized t-shirt and your undergarment.

Now comfortable, you jumped into the bed next to your tablet and started drawing as soon as you positioned yourself with your back pressed onto the headboard. You didn't know how long you passed there, drawing the content of your mind, only knowing that you were at your fourth piece when the door flew open, presenting you Oscar with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, leaning in the doorway.

"I came to ask if you wanted to watch a movie, but I see you already have one." He snickered.

You had once told the brothers what your "small board" was, although skipping the part that it was your drawing tablet. You showed them the music and videos kindly pre-installed by your supervisor and of course, Oscar wanted to watch modern movies with you. You'd never scrolled through the entirety of the movie selection available, but you should have. Before you knew, Oscar had selected Fifty Shades of Grey and everything went down from there. Needless to say that his own time period wasn't that open into showing nudity so it was a shock for him. At first. You were only grateful that the older brothers weren't interested into watching modern movies and that they never knew why Oscar teased you with a color.

"I'm not watching anything, Oscar." You countered defensively.

He entered the room, unbothered by your appearance.

"What are you doing then?" He reached for the iPad, causing you to hit the lock button in a hurry, hiding the lines and color behind a hard black screen and a password.

"But I wanted to see." He whined, putting. You made the error of rolling your eyes, giving Oscar the opportunity to grab your pencil out of your hand.

"Give it back!" You yelled, reaching for the electronic crayon. Oscar stepped away from the bed, almost making you fall off the bed.

"It's a pen? You draw? Can I see it?" His eyes were sparkling, but it didn't hurt in the slightest when a categorical no fell from your lips. "But why?"

You jumped out of bed, ready to jump on him if need be to recover your stolen good.

"Because. I don't have to give you a reason- Oscar!" You followed him out of the room as soon as he dashed for the door. He stopped in the living room, where he used his height to annoy you and keep the device out of your reach. You tried to reach it on your tippytoes, without success.

"Oscar I'm not kidding. Give it back." Your patience was getting thinner by the second.

"Same for me. I want to see." He smirked at something behind your shoulder, but you couldn't care less at the moment.

"I said no!" You tried again to reach for your iPad in the outstretched arm of the younger Swede, unconsciously offering a perfect view of your behind to two completely red Scandinavian.

"Give it back!" The desperation in your voice caused Axel to intervene, his heart reacting to your panicked state.

You felt tears forming into your eyes, from anger or distress, you didn't know, but you harshly wiped at them in hope of concealing your weakness. Oscar froze at your movement, eyes widening at the sight. Someone behind you grabbed the devices from Oscar's hand, before handing them to you.

"Enough brother. She said no." His tone was hard and let no place for discussion, not that Oscar would have tried to argue after he saw the water in your eyes.

With shaky hands, you pressed the electronics to your chest, protecting them from any other wandering hands. With them close and safe, your frantic heartbeat could finally slow down.

You turned to Axel to thank him until you noticed how bright red his cheeks and neck were. He was still glaring at Oscar, although when he realized that you had turned to him, his gaze fell somewhere near you. The realization of why he couldn't meet your gaze dawned on you like a cold bucket of water, your very own cheek reddening.

Mortified, you fled to the security of your room, the door banging on its hinges behind you. You searched the doorknob for a lock, helplessness invading you when you found none. Rushing to the bed to hide under the covers, you could only hope that the boys would leave you alone for as long as you needed. Forever would be an acceptable amount of time.

You cried yourself to sleep, remnants of your panic playing tricks in your head, tormenting you with what-ifs. What if Oscar had seen your drawing? What if he decided to try again in the future? What if the boys decided that they had had enough of you? What if- whatif--

A soft knock resonated through the door, waking you in a panic. You had a terrible headache and your eyes were burning. You were disoriented until Otto's soft voice reached your ears.

"Dinner is ready. I brought you a plate."

You couldn't possibly think of eating at the moment, but you couldn't find it in yourself to let your sweet Otto turn back, defeated, to the kitchen.

"Come in." You managed to croak out, your throat not used to form words instead of sobs.

Otto opened the door slowly, the light of the house entering your dark room, allowing Otto to see your form concealed under the sheets. Only half of your head was poking out of your safe zone, giving him all the information he needed on your state.

You managed to give him a small smile as he walked into the room to place the plate onto your nightstand. He paused for a second, seemingly thinking over what he wanted to do or say, before making up his mind.

"Oscar is very sorry." His hands formed fists when he met your red eyes.

"I won't say it's fine because it's not." You answered, breaking the eye contact to concentrate on the wet spots on your pillow.

"We know." A shadow blocked the light coming from the hallway and into your room, creating an enormous dark form onto the opposite wall. You lifted the covers to hide the remaining of your face, causing Otto to walk out of the room to keep the newcomer outside.

The smell of the food was heavenly despite the fact that your stomach wasn't ready to welcome any of it soon. You pulled the cover off your face to allow fresh air to enter your lungs and repositioned yourself in a somewhat comfortable position. It didn't take you long to drift off, too tired to resist the welcoming arms of Morpheus.

You woke up to a pair of steely eyes glaring at you from the doorway. Nervous, you got up from the bed and followed the retreating figure. On your way, you grabbed and slipped on your sweat pants, running to catch up with Axel. You collided with his back when he stopped abruptly and fell on your ass due to the force of the impact.

Your eyes widened as soon as you caught sight of Oscar's body lying on the floor, blood running down his nose, eyes open but unseeing. A scream died in your throat, the pitiful sounds you managed to do were muffled by your hand covering your mouth. Axel turned to you, glaring at you from his vantage point.

"He saw your drawings. It's your fault."

Sobs shook your body as tears ran down your face once more. All you could do was chant a succession of no, desperately wishing that it wasn't true, that you didn't kill him.

You expected the older brother to kill you in retaliation, but he must have known. No, he knew. As a fruit of your imagination, he knew how to make you suffer. Slowly, his arm lifted to the side, pointing towards the door where Otto was waiting, a blank expression darkening his features.

"Leave."

Your heart stopped. You would be alone again. Just like the past 16 years of your life. The only ones who accepted you were now rejecting you because they had seen what you so desperately tried to hide. Because your selfishness had broken them. Why couldn't you just stop drawing? Why-

Axel's hand closed firmly on your upper arms, the surprise and fear causing you to shot up into your bed, the sheets falling from your body and exposing your sweaty skin to the chilly air of the room. You slammed your hands onto your mouth in hope of containing the sobs and not disturb the other residents of the little house.

Just in time, your body stopped shaking, your tears stopped falling and your breath stopped breaking. You stiffened as a knock resonated in the air, Oscar's voice breaking the silence.

"Are you up?"

You were relieved to hear his voice, to know that he was still alive and well. You really wanted to answer him, to let him know that he was forgiven and that you didn't hate him, but you knew you looked like hell and that it would only hurt him more. So you stayed silent, waited until your heard his footsteps walking away to get up, gather your clothes for the day and with the discretion that one could only acquire after years of training, you made your way to the bathroom down the hallway.

The woman looking at you through the mirror looked definitely dead, with her dull puffy eyes, her untamed hair, the tear tracks on her cheeks and her pale skin. Quickly, you showered to remove any trace of your sadness, took an aspirin to lower the pressure into your skull and got dressed to not embarrass anyone furthermore. Now, the woman looked just like you, healthy and beautiful, if not just a little more down than usual.

As you came out of the bathroom and entered the living room connected to the kitchen, Oscar immediately shot up from the couch like he had waited for you all this time. You knew Otto and Axel's attention were on the both of you even if they continued with their activities, making breakfast and petting the cats.

"I am so sorry. I crossed a line and I know it wasn't right. Please, don't hate me. I'm sorry." He was as shaken as you were if his disheveled hair was anything to go by. This was a first.

"I don't hate you, Oscar." He relaxed at your word, a soft smile leaving his lips. "I forgive you, but please, don't do it again."

He shook his head and wrapped you in his arms. The tightness was a bit too much, but you didn't mind, you hugged him just as tightly.

"Thank you." He whispered as he pulled away, a small smile on his handsome face.

You playfully punched his shoulder to which Oscar retaliated by poking your sides until you were on the floor, laughing so much that your headache came back.

"Food's ready." You cheered at Axel's statement, successfully pushing your white-haired friend off of you when he wasn't focussing.

"Thank you." You said to the cook while getting seated to your place. He hummed, just as usual, the events of the day before seemingly forgotten.

Despite your great appetite, you didn't touch your fork, instead gathering the courage to come clean.

"My birthday is October 1st, 1989." The Swedes froze, surprised about the new information. Everyone at the Commission knew about the children born on this particular day. You continued when Oscar opened his mouth. "My ability," you frowned, "if I could call it like that, is that if I accomplish a specific task, people die."

The brothers were lost, not getting to what you were implying.

"If someone sees a drawing I've made, they die. Generally in the next day or so. It can be by a heart attack, a brain hemorrhage or a stupid accident." Your gaze found Oscar's grey one. "You didn't see it, did you?"

He shook his head, a smirk stretching his lips. "You're that bad, eh?"

You kicked his ankle under the table, a yelp resonating into the room.

"You could have died, you moron."

"You're not kidding?" His head tilted to the side.

"No! How do you think I killed for the Commission for the last 16 years? I only had to show them a drawing and they were dead by the next day!" You huffed, frustrated that he didn't believe you at first. "I've lost my family because of it, I won't lose my friends too." You chewed on the interior of your cheek, your gaze fleeing everyone’s by falling on your plate.

Before any dark thoughts could invade your mind, a hand fell on your shoulder. Axel didn't have to say it in words for you to understand. They'd never give up on you, no matter what, the reassurance making you smile to your plate.

"Why don't you stop?" Otto's question pulled at your heart.

"Because whenever I draw, I draw my family. I miss them a lot." You could hear the laugh of your little sister in the wind sometimes or could see yourself playing in the snow with your older brother. It was an accident, you didn't know at the time, but when you showed your very first drawing of the neighbor's dog to your family at dinner, you had sealed their fate. Four heart attacks under the same roof on the same night was hardly a coincidence, leading the Commission to take your case seriously. They took you in and made you who you were.

A chair moving harshly on the floor caught your attention. Oscar walked around the table to hug you from behind, his face pressed against yours.

"We are your family now."

#the swedes #tua swedes #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #ikea mafia

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sunshine304 · 4 years ago

Note

Yeah I saw minmoyu's post, which was worded very eloquently, and they really said it well :*it's not anyone's problem if someone is poor and can't afford to buy it* because that is very true, and I will be one of those insignificant people who'll gradually get purged out of the cnovel fandom on the grounds of being poor so I thought it's interesting that the moral side of the argument have such a lovely way of expressing that, their hot take really helped

Referring to this post by Minmoyu. It seems that all this escalated in an extreme way over on twitter (where I'm not and I'm thankful for that every day XD); some harsh and insulting words were said on both sides which is not okay. But that seems to be how twitter operates nowadays, sadly.

I do feel sorry for people who truly are not able to pay. And I'm sorry that this might mean for you that you won't be able to read some of it anymore. Capitalism is a fucked up system and the huge gap between the very poor and the very rich seems to be especially extreme in the US. I of course don't know where you're from, Anon, but just going from what I see on my dash about bad financial situations – the majority is from the US. And if a person cannot spare those $ 17,- to pay on jjwx because this would mean they won't be able to pay their rent next week, or they'll have to starve for the next three weeks, then it's understandable how very upset some readers of translated danmei are about the situation. There are of course also others, who have other reasons why they don't want / cannot pay, some more and some less convincing or reasonable.

I am in the lucky and privileged situation that I do not have to worry about basic living costs, simply because I've got a rather secure full-time job, lucked out with a really cheap flat, and several of my hobbies that I usually pay for were not possible during the last year (like going to the cinema). I am also lucky to live in Germany, where the social system usually acts as a safety net for people who lose their job or who have health issues etc.

Though I do acknowledge the problems of people who really cannot pay, this is still, at the end of the day, a problem of an unjust society and capitalist market structures.

It's not the fault of danmei fan translators, who provide a service for free and in their free time. Translating these works takes a lot of time. I've done a tiny bit of translation work for my job, which really had me struggling at times, looking up words even though I understood the sentence – but finding a fitting translation that didn't sound awkward was difficult. And that was only from English to German, which is quite straigthtforward!

So, as hard as it may be for some readers of translated danmei, the translators are free to do with their hard work what they want. Insulting them, grumbling about how "what they're doing is illegal anyway“ etc., ist just very disrespectful. Without their hard work, Western audiences wouldn't even be able to read danmei, or wouldn't even know about it at all. Because the fan translators could just... not translate anything. They don't need to do it for themselves. They understand the stories just fine. But they do it because they enjoy the stories so much that they want to make them available to a wider audience. And I don't think it's too much to ask that the people who can afford to support the author also do so. Because in the end, jjwx is a business and how many copies are sold of a particular danmei has direct consequences for the author (of course in how much they earn, but also increased popularity may lead to more adaptations etc.).

I guess I'm not the right person to really commiserate, because I don't have any stakes in this. I do have several danmei files saved, but it's not what I currently read. That's mostly fanfiction, tbh. XD And the many books I've piled up over the years... So if danmei would suddenly be behind a paywall, I wouldn't lose any sleep over it or be super sad. I'm just not invested enough. (I also, as I said, am privileged enough to pay that money, if I really wanted to read that particular translation.)

But I'm sorry for people who really got hit with this, and who are genuinely hurt by it (and not just being whiny babies because that's what you do on twitter).

As far as I can see, translators aren't locking the main works, but are for now going for some extra chapters that aren't necessary for the main story, or for advanced chapters if readers don't want to wait. This might be a good compromise for now, and perhaps when everyone has cooled down again, there can be a reasonable conversation about it.

So, this is much longer than I intended, and I ended up writing out my thoughts on this issue in general... Uhm yeah.

#danmei #fan translations #danmei fandom #danmei discourse i guess #asks #my posts

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goose-books · 5 years ago

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whoa, it sure is about time around here for a post, huh!

today i offer you 1.7k words about cressida and rory simply being soft. that’s all. this is the happiest thing i’ve ever written in the darkling canon and making this moodboard reminded me that it’s because these two are the only kind and friendly people in the entire book.

more details about cressida and rory’s home WIP, darkling, can be found here! (short version: it’s a speculative fiction king lear; there’s magic but it’s weird about being magic; half the characters are gay trans and neurodivergent because i said so.) this takes place about a year before the story starts; the two of them have just turned sixteen and seventeen, respectively!

also, i wrote all of this while listening to “kentucky” by hippo campus on repeat. the lyrics aren’t quite as relevant as the vibe. if you catch me yearning on main mind your own business /j

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

Beside them, Cressida is soaked, long golden hair and long white dress dripping. Rory rocks up onto their toes and back down, anxiety worming along the back of their neck like an itchy coat. This was not the plan. The plan was not “get caught in the rain and run through a storm for two blocks.” The plan was for the two of them to go walk by the river and - who knows, talk about Joan of Arc or the Kennedy assassination or something. Swap special interests. Maybe swap spit. Probably not, though. It’s not a date. It’s not not a date - but, like, Rory still does work for Cressida’s dad, so who knows how awkward things could get. Plus Cressida’s hard to read. She doesn’t really make facial expressions, and that’s usually fine, because Rory can’t really read facial expressions so it’s about the same to them, but in this particular situation -

“I trust you,” Cressida says, squeezing their hand, “but where are we going?”

The rain’s left Rory’s glasses fogged up enough to render them effectively blind. They take their glasses off and squint at the elevator buttons. They are still effectively blind.

“Is that a five or a six?” they say, pointing.

Cressida peers over their shoulder. “Which one do you want?”

“Five.”

Cressida presses the five button with her free hand. The elevator, which is about the size of a broom closet, jerks into unsteady, fitful motion.

The thing is that the apartment building is kind of - well, not a dump. It’s not horrible. There aren’t cockroaches. But Cressida lives in a manor, literally. Stayer Manor. Capital S, capital M. And there was never any sort of plan for today, even in the wildest of circumstances, that involved Rory bringing the city’s golden girl to a building the size of a shoebox. But then it was raining, and Cressida kept saying she didn’t mind the rain despite clearly minding because if she ruins her dress her dad will go rabid-dog on her, and Rory’s cognitive wheels were spinning like they were powered by a well-greased hamster, and none of the restaurants close enough to duck into were appropriate places for them to safely freak out about the thunder, and their apartment was only two blocks away.

So.

Here they are.

“Sorry,” Cressida says. “Where are we going?”

Rory attempts to dry their glasses on their soaked-through sweater, to little avail. “We are going,” they announce, “to a world of pure imagination.”

Outside, thunder cracks the sky. They know Cressida sees them flinch, because she squeezes their hand again.

The apartment is 505. Cressida waits as Rory digs around in their jacket pocket, shuffling past loose coins and two pairs of headphones and four melted Starbursts and way too many scraps of paper until they finally unearth their key. Their lock sticks - their lock always sticks - so once they’ve turned it, they have to drop Cressida’s hand and plant one wet Doc Marten on the wall and yank. The door swings open.

“Voila,” Rory says, performing jazz hands. “Willy Wonka wants what I have.”

Their apartment is purple. Not startlingly purple. Gently purple. Purple like it creeps up on you. Purple like you don’t realize exactly how purple it is until you realize everything - walls, gauzy flower-patterned curtains, plushy armchair, compass-rose-shaped clock, old-fashioned record player on the table - is the same shade of soft lavender.

There is at least one nail sticking up out of the hard-wood floor. Rory snags a sock on it every time they dance around with their headphones in.

Two people have been inside since Rory started renting the place a year ago. And that’s them and the landlord. This is their place, their safe haven, their nook, and it’s the size of Cressida’s bathroom, and rich pretty Cressida Stayer is standing, dripping, in the threshold.

“Don’t touch anything,” Rory says. Cressida draws her hands in like the walls might electrocute her. “That was a joke. You can touch things.”

“This is your apartment,” Cressida says.

“Indeed.”

“You live here.”

“That succeeds the first!” They give her an encouraging smile. “Subsequent statements! How cogently lucid of you!”

Cressida looks down. The hem of her dress is dripping onto the floor. “I don’t suppose you have a vent I could sit on…?”

“In fact I do!” Rory directs her, aircraft-marshall-style, to the heating vent on the floor. They’re jittering. They’re using way too much arm movement. They can’t get their heart to stop skidding around, because normally! They do not! Let people in here!

They stand and drip. Cressida sits and drips. She gazes around, and Rory gazes with her, trying to see it through her eyes.

“Where’s your bed?” she says.

Rory skips over to the closet and pulls the door open, with the grand gestures of a magician presenting a trick. The inside of the tiny closet is lined with a thick downy comforter; there are sheets and pillows scattered around atop it, and there are glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up all over the walls and ceiling.

Cressida gazes at it. “On purpose, right? Not because -”

“On purpose. Yes. I could have bought a bed. I just think it’s cozy.” Oh, Rory is going to lose it right here. Their foot is tapping the floor at about a million miles an hour. Granted, being in their apartment helps the overstimulation a little - just being where it’s safe and everything’s always the same and they control their space. That always helps. But it’s not like they can just curl up in their closet with their headphones in and the door shut, because Cressida is here -

Cressida, for her part, looks a little impressed.

“It’s nice,” she says, wrapping her arms around her knees. “You just live here? By yourself?”

Rory shrugs. “I’m emancipated,” they say, which isn’t strictly true, but they work for the most powerful man in the city, who has their back if anyone actually looks into their files, so it’s as true as it really needs to be - and then thunder roars outside again and Rory skitters sideways and falls over their armchair.

“Oh! Oh my God -” Cressida jumps to her feet.

Rory scrambles up from where they’ve tumbled to the floor. “Sorry sorry sorry!” they say, except really they yell it because they have their shaking hands over their ears. “Sorrysorrysorry, I - I really don’t like loud - I d-don’t -”

“Can I -” All of a sudden Cressida’s in front of them. Rory doesn’t move away, just stands there, chest heaving, and Cressida slides her still-damp hands very gently up both of their arms, and she very gently pulls their hands off their ears.

The thunder, again. Like a cannon blast. This time Rory yelps a little. Cressida pulls them in close to her and sits both of them down on the vent, which, at the very least, is warm and also on the floor, so Rory can’t really trip over anything when they flinch.

“You don’t like loud,” Cressida repeats. She’s a good deal taller than they are - Rory’s exactly five-foot in their Docs - and so it makes logical sense for her to settle down with her chin on their head, probably.

“I don’t. I don’t. I really don’t.” They’ve started fluttering their hands a little; their voice is getting that shaky tilt it gets when they’re in sensory overload. “Fun story, back in high school we went on a field trip to this play where they used gunfire blanks for sound effects and I had a full-on crying-and-screaming public meltdown. I like to tell fun stories from high school like it wasn’t actual purgatory, because I cope through humor!”

“I know,” Cressida says simply, and she wraps her arms around them so they can lean back into her chest. The next thunder crash comes, and she tightens her grip. “Is this helping?”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. A lot. Like a weighted blanket.” Rory tilts their head back to give her a shaky upside-down grin.

They don’t like making eye contact, so they don’t, but they are aware that Cressida’s gaze is resting pretty solidly on their face, which is - fine, and normal behavior for friends, and the fact that they’re cuddling on a vent and they can feel her heart beating against their spine is, like, normal also, probably -

“Rory,” Cressida says tentatively, “can I…”

Rory tilts their head. “Can you what?”

Cressida hesitates; then she leans in. It is a very very gentle kiss, almost hesitant; she pulls away after a second or so, to find Rory staring at her dumbfounded.

“Whoa,” they say, face assembling itself into what they’re fully aware is a stupid doofy grin. “Whoa. Hi. Hey. I - yeah! You can do that!”

They both cling to each other’s hands for a second; they both let out a breath that is, Rory thinks, equal parts relief and euphoria.

Then Rory leans in and kisses Cressida again, and this time neither of them pull away, and when the thunder crashes overhead Rory thinks they’ve never felt safer than they do right now.

#max.txt #darkling tag #lorelai flowers #cressida stayer #fun fact about this: i wrote it for my school creative writing class and we had to do peer feedback circles #and of the three people who gave me feedback only ONE of them got rory's pronouns right #while the other two played choose your own adventure i suppose?#(i'm not; like; pissed off i just think it's funny.... cis people let me study you /j)#max actually writes

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littleredlie · 4 years ago

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Intervention (S1P4)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical and she returns back after a two week break. However, we learn that she didn’t spend her entire break off and instead focused on her sister’s murder. Based off S1E11 of Chicago Med

2.3k+ Words (Short chapter)

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Hayden Everett (mentioned), Will Halstead, Maggie Lockwood, Connor Rhodes, Kevin Atwater, Adam Ruzek, Jay Halstead (mentioned), Sarah Reese Warning: mentions of rape and murder, idk what else ??? A/N: Yikes, I started writing this chapter and ended up writing the next chapter so I had to write the end of this one and the beginning of part 5. This part was hard to write because the episode didn’t have much action to put Morgan in and so I made it a kind of Morgan-centric episode. It’s very shot, I had no idea what I was doing. Part 5 is better and I’ve already started part six. Sorry in advance. And we will never talk about this chapter again.

Part Three

“Hey Morgan, welcome back.”

“Hey Mags, how’re you?” Morgan tosses her stethoscope around her neck and picks up a few papers sitting on the desk.

“Nope, nada. I wanna hear how your vacation went. You’re gone for two weeks and not a single person hears from you. You do not deserve to hear about any work drama until you spill.”

“I think you are being overdramatic. And not that you need to know, but Connor heard from me,” Morgan shrugs, not daring to look at the nurse. Maggie had an eyebrow raised and was giving her a look; it was similar to the one she did during Jay and the doctor’s interaction.

“You two really have history don’t you?”

“Yeah, we’ve known each other for almost 15 years. He knew my sister first, but he and I were just closer.” At the mention of her sister, Maggie sends her friend a soft but the latter still isn’t looking. “And we made this ridiculous promise while we were drunk about how we were always gonna be there for each other, and yet, neither of us have broken that promise.” Morgan is quiet for a second as she thinks about the time she and Connor had as friends, but then she moves on. Like she always does when it comes to her personal life. She never lingers on it long enough for people to try and figure her out. “My vacation though was very quiet. Hayden and I drove up to a resort up north and rented a cabin. We skied, went to spas, ate luxurious food. She had to leave for an assignment early so I just relaxed and did a little research too.”

“So you went all the way to a resort just to work, eventually.”

“The work’s never done Maggie,” with that Morgan leaves with a smile, heading to the first patient of her day. Maggie just watches her receding back.

Before Morgan can make it into her assigned examination room, someone walks up to her, placing a gentle hand on her lower back.

“Hey Fitz,” Connor says, a small smile on his face.

“Fitz? No one’s called me that since med school,” she chuckles fully stopping to look at him. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to welcome you back. You look good.”

“Yeah, I guess time off was vital. But I have to know,” she pauses, the anticipation building and Connor waiting. “Does everyone know about Olivia? I’d suspect everyone would come to you for some clarification.”

Connor pauses, contemplating whether or not to spew out a white lie. It was true a few people came and prodded for the truth. And he briefly heard whispered conversations among colleagues before they would stop when he got near, but he knew what the topic was. Connor also knew how private Morgan was. She always had been, and after Olivia’s death she just became more closed off. But she also didn’t like being lied to. “Yeah, people know. I’ve tried to handle it, but it has its own life.”

“I guess it’s okay. I just…. I don’t know.” She shrugs and Connor rests his hands on her upper arms.

“Will you be okay?” His voice is sincere and Morgan wants to hug him, but maybe not right now.

“I will be,” at that Connor is about to pull away but Morgan stops him. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for being a bitch before I left. You know how my family gets me.”

“I understand. I do. And I’ll always give you the space you need.”

“Yeah, I know. But I probably shouldn’t push away my best friend. I need you, especially now.”

Connor pulls Morgan into a quick hug and is going to say something but a commotion arises from the ambulance bay.

“Dr. Rhodes, can you get this, please?” The two doctors pull apart and turn to the pleading charge nurse. “We’re slammed.”

“I’m on it!” He answers back and throws a ‘talk later’ look to Morgan over his shoulder.

She nods back to him and finally turns her direction to her primary goal. With notes open about the patient on the tablet and a smile on her face, Dr. Fitzgerald returns to work.

❦

Three hours later, Morgan is on a roll. Treating patients as quickly and efficiently as she could. She had seen her usual coworkers, except Will. She may or may not have been avoiding him. And it was about to get easier, because after her lunch break she was heading up the OBGYN. She loved emergency medicine, but always felt that there weren’t enough available people in the emergency room that specialized in the field. Just like Connor was pursuing cardiothoracic surgery and Natalie was focused on emergency pediatrics, Morgan focused on obstetric and gynecology emergencies. It interested her just as much as emergency medicine did and after losing a pregnant patient when she first got her match, the choice came easy to her.

“Dr. Fitzgerald.” Maggie calls, pulling the doctor in her direction.

“Yes ma’am. What can I do for you?” Morgan leans her body on the desk as the ensuing chaos of the emergency room flutters around them.

“I just need a signature here for your last patient’s discharge papers.”

“No problem.” Morgan pulls out a pen from her pocket and signs the paperwork. During this, Will siddles up to her. Maggie notices first and wants to usher him away, since she (along with everyone) noticed that Morgan was ignoring him, but the redhead ignored the nurse’s glares and he turned to Morgan, who still hadn't noticed that he was there.

“Morgan.”

Morgan’s plump lips fold into a thin line as a breath catches in her throat, she was avoiding this. Slowly placing the pen back into her jacket, she finally lays her eyes on him. “Dr. Halstead.”

“It’s good to see you back.” He starts, trying to catch her eyes which were fluttering around the hospital floor, evading. “I was hoping we co–” a ringtone interrupts his words and Morgan notices it’s coming from her. She breathes out a sigh of relief when she pulls it out. It may have been petty, but she wanted to stay angry at him a little longer.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Without a response, she answers the phone without looking at who it is, and walks away. “Hey, are you here?” She asked.

“Yeah, we’re in the parking garage, top floor.” His answer beckons her to start walking to the hospital employee parking lot.

“We?” Morgan questioned.

“Yeah, Adam’s here.”

“Kevin!” She screeches, annoyance bubbling inside her. There was a reason she didn’t ask for Adam’s help.

“He’s my partner Morg, I couldn’t blow him off.” Kevin answers back and she pushes out an agitated sigh.

“Ugh, whatever. I’ll be up there in a few.” Morgan hands up and stuffs her cellphone back into her lab coat pocket.

The weather isn’t bad when Morgan hikes herself up to the top of the parking garage. She can see the two policemen leisurely enjoying a cup of coffee. She’d met Kevin years ago through his younger brother Jordan. The younger kid ended up in the hospital and Morgan was the one to treat him. They got to talking, found out they had some things in common, and it was one of the closest connections she made when she first moved out here and after Olivia’s death. Dating wasn’t an option between them, the way the two cared for each other was something close to two siblings and again, the fact that she dated Jay wasn’t helping. She didn’t want to dip her toe into the police dating pool again.

Morgan knew Adam through Kevin and Jay. And she made the mistake of introducing Adam to her roommate. Those two were quite the pair. Hayden used him as an inside source when it came to her articles and he used her to do things that he as a police officer legally couldn’t do (Morgan wasn’t necessarily supposed to know that though). Together, they made an agreement to warm each other’s bed when it was needed. Morgan of course thought it was stupid as Adam was a mess when it came to his love life, Hayden reassured that it was no strings attached and they were practically best friends when they weren’t sleeping together.

Other than that, Morgan and Adam didn’t have a bad relationship, she didn’t want to ask him this favor because she knew he’d tell Hayden. And Morgan doesn’t want her roommate on her back.

“Hey boys,” Morgan called out to them, her body leaning through the open passenger window. She gives a strained smile to Adam and he gives her one back, knowing why she didn’t ask him to do the favor. Without saying anything, Kevin passes the folder she asked for.

It was surprisingly thinner than what she expected it to be. This killer has been on the loose for a while and she’d hoped that the police would listen to her anonymous tips that tried to tie together all his crimes. But the evidence showed that they didn’t.

“This is all they have Kev?” Morgan flips through the pages, disappointment written on her face.

“Yeah. I tried digging up some more, but that’s all that was available.”

“God, cops are so fucking useless.” She huffs out, completely missing the offended faces on the two detectives. “I have more in my own files than this. I tried taking it in, but I keep getting shut down.”

“Morgan, you can’t do this by yourself.” Adam finally speaks up, placing a hand on her wrist. She pulls her eyes away from the paperwork to him.

“But it seems like no one else wants to do the work. Olivia’s case has gone cold and I feel like the longer that it goes unsolved, the harder it will be to get justice.” Olivia’s throat aches as a sob threatens to creep out. There are tears brimming in her eyes and she turns her body away from the two men.

“I understand that, doc. But, you already have to worry about your patients and yourself.” Adam starts, glancing at Kevin, trying to get his partner to say something. The black man is unsure what to say, he’d recently learned about Morgan’s sister when she first asked him to acquire the files.

“Why don’t we take a look into it?” Kevin says and Adam wants to hit him upside the head. Adam had promised Hayden that he would help Morgan move on, which meant getting Olivia’s investigation out of her mind. If he and Kevin pursued this case, Morgan would never let it rest.

“Would you really do that?” Morgan almost throws herself into the car, hope filling in her chest. “You’d do actual investigating?” Kevin hesitates when he meets eye contact with Adam, but the look on Morgan’s face destroys him.

“Yeah, I’ll try to do some work in between my regular caseload.” There’s a soft smile on Kevin’s face while Adam sighs out then turns his head to look at the giddy doctor.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me Kevin. You too, Adam.” Before the second man could say anything, Morgan’s phone goes off indicating the arrival for one of her pregnant patients. “Looks like I have to go. Why don’t you come over tonight and I’ll give you everything that I have.” She smiles at both of them. “And Adam, please don’t tell Hayden or Jay.”

“Jay?” Adam questions. He understood why she didn’t want him to tell Hayden, but Jay?

“Yeah, Jay. The two of us are in a really good spot right now and I don’t want to jeopardize that anymore that it already has been.” Adam nods, understanding. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, Morgan makes her way back into the hospital.

❦

Between patients Morgan finds herself peeking into the folder that Kevin gave her. One name stands: Isaac Elway. Apparently, his sister was a victim to the same killer that ended Olivia’s life. Details of the horrific crime, along with her sisters, were displayed in the paperwork. Morgan’s read the information about Olivia’s case numerous times before, but it still breaks her heart and it constantly keeps her up at night.

When she has no more patients, she pulls out a card with number on it. It’s Elway’s. She dials the number, her fingernail being demolished by the teeth in her mouth. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, she’d been searching for answers for years. This was the first time she had heard of Elway and she had to know what he knew. Why was phone number in the file? Was he that important.

The phone rings and anxiety rises in Morgan’s throat. Eventually she had to get answers, that’s why she had Kevin looking into more details. No one answers the other line, just the automated voicemail message and a beep. Morgan quickly debates in her head whether or not to leave a message, but ultimately she does.

“Hi, Mr. Elway this Dr. Morgan Fitzgerald at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center. I am calling in regards to Sabrina Elway’s case file and it’s relation to another case. This isn’t a topic would like to discuss over the phone so I’d appreciate it if you would give me a call back. Thank you.” She hangs up the call and shoves the phone back into the pocket of her scrubs.

“Dr. Fitzgerald, I need an OB consult on a patient?” Dr. Reese pokes her head through the door, oblivious to the emotions ripping the attending.

“Yeah, give me a moment. I’ll be there.” The intern nods her head and retreats back towards the nurse’s central desk.

Morgan watches Sarah leave and then her eyes graze over the presence of her fellow doctors and the patients inhabiting the emergency room. She needed to accept that she will get her answers soon and that she could not speed the process of the world. She couldn’t afford getting distracted or she’d put herself and her patients in danger. She leaves the doctor’s lounge and heads back to her job, finally relinquishing control of her sister’s case.

Part Five

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

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He’s Not Here - Part 24

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 8034

Rating: M (language and violence)

Parts 1-23 + the interludes and NSFW alphabet can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)

Summary: What’s in the box that Billy left for you? Why was it so important that you have it? Does it even matter?

Author’s Note: I’m about to ruin your Saturday.

(Banner made by @the-blind-assassin-12)

It had taken you three days to go through all of the files on Billy’s laptop, starting with the videos in the folder he’d labeled with your name. There were plenty of them, and each one was like a punch in the gut, simply because with every word he said, you heard him in it, the way he’d been when he was with you, even though you weren’t together at the time. They followed a linear timeline - some of them were simply Billy talking to you through his webcam, staring at the laptop with wide brown eyes, features contorted in sadness as he reminded himself - and by extension, you - of what he was doing and why. You couldn’t watch them all that first night; you were crying too hard, and after calling your boss and letting her know that you needed a few days off, you pulled one of Billy’s t shirts on and crawled into bed, bringing his iPod with you and holding it with one hand until you fell asleep, the songs that had comforted him in the desert filling your ears.

You’d cried yourself to sleep, but had woken up early the next morning, determined to make more progress with the videos and the files. You made notes as you went through them, lists of what was in each file, and as you did so, the story unfolded, little by little. Billy had been involved with heroin smuggling, starting with the contact that he’d had with Schoonover when he’d been shot. The man had offered him an opportunity to work directly for him as soon as he’d gotten back overseas, and though Billy had been hesitant because he knew what hard drugs could do to people, he’d agreed. “I didn’t want to do it, you know? But it was good money, and if I hadn’t agreed, he woulda gone to someone else, and who knows what he woulda done to me for sayin’ no. I wanted Anvil, wanted to… just wanted to get started, and figured that once I was back here and could find a new way to… he’d go somewhere else after I’d done my part. He’d find someone else, and I could just…” Billy’s hand had been working the back of his neck as he spoke, still not looking at the camera. “I was wrong. I was so wrong, but by the time I realized it, we were already… it was about more than the drugs, it was … we were - me an’ Frankie were…”

Agreeing to help with the drug smuggling had been just the beginning, and while Billy had assumed that he’d be on the hook for that when he came home - using Anvil as a front until Schoonover could find another avenue for importing and distributing the heroin - things had quickly changed when he and Frank had been tasked with leading two squds of men in Afghanistan, turning from dedicated Marines into something more deadly, more focused - more wrong. “Cerberus, at first was just them tellin’ us to go in and do what was necessary. We’d all been asked to do a buncha shit before, shit that we didn’t agree with but didn’t question, and so it wasn’t anything different. It got bad, Orange… Rawlins had his own agenda, and we just did what we were told, and… and it got out of control. It wasn’t just Schoonover keepin’ an eye on me anymore, it was both of ‘em, and I couldn’t...”

The folders contained information about each of the men - dates and amounts, contacts, phone call logs, requests, meeting notes. “I couldn’t keep track of shit over there, but once I got here? I knew… I knew there was a chance they were gonna get caught, and I’d go down with ‘em, but I wanted to… I know I can only count on myself, yeah? But after Schoonover died … after Frankie killed ‘im, things got… things changed. Rawlins is so paranoid now, but he thinks that… it’s never gonna be on him, never gonna… but he… if he knew I was keepin’ track of things, makin’ these videos? It’s gonna cover my ass, but he’d kill me for it right after he made me watch him kill you.”

Billy outlined everything for you - the way that the operation had changed after Schoonover died and the heroin stopped coming in in the same way, the way that Rawlins stayed as far out of the spotlight as possible and still tried to control the narrative, sending Billy and his men out on missions that needed to be handled quickly and quietly. “An’ I know you won’t want it, but I can only use so much of this money, and if I’m… I’m doin’ all of this shit? I want it to mean somethin’.” There were things that Billy did that were legitimate - he talked about situations where the men and women of Anvil were doing real jobs, where the company was exactly what Billy had dreamed, getting recognition in the papers and in military and political circles. “It’s only been a year, only been… and we’re doin’ it. I’m doin’ it, and I want… I wish I could tell you about it, because I think you’d be proud of me, at least for some of this shit.”

The money that he’d been putting into your account - that he’d opened by using the signature on the contract that you’d both signed for the Anvil party - was, according to him, from Billy’s portion of the legitimate deals he’d been doing, the training and the protection, the missions. “I’m usin’ the blood money, and that’s more than enough. Everything that goes to you? That’s… that’s what I woulda been doin’ for you if we were still together.” But there’s no way to verify that, I don’t… all I have are these records, but… But you realized that there’d be no reason for anyone to look into the account; it had been opened in your name, and the signature was as close to your own as you’d ever seen. You went back and forth about how you felt, knowing that the money you had access to could have come from illegal activity, but at the end of the day, you decided it didn’t matter.

I can… I can use this to help him, I can get him a lawyer, I… You’d actually laughed when he explained what was going on with your rent amount being deposited into the account in one of the earliest videos. “I told you we’d be livin’ together as soon as I came back, that I wanted to… well, since I’m savin’ money by living in the apartment next to my office, instead of paying my rent, I’m paying yours… kind of, even though you don’t know it yet.”

Billy had moved out of his apartment and into the building that he was leasing only a few months after Anvil opened. You weren’t surprised by it - that meant he could be close to his recruits, close to the company, always available, and even though you knew that him doing that would have consumed him, you also knew that it was what would have kept him sane - and too busy to really sit back and think about how far his life had spiraled.

The videos continued, Billy talking about the things that Rawlins and Wolf had him do, the meetings he had with Bennett and the other men, the promises they made him. “I know I can’t trust ‘em, and at this point, it’s more about me bein’ able to somehow cover my own ass when this all goes bad. Not if. I’m guilty, I’ve done a lot of bad shit and I know that, but it didn’t start out that way, and now… now they’ve got me in so deep that… I don’t know what else to do, except make these videos and talk to you like you’re really here because it might matter someday, even if it’s only to you.”

You’d seen the progression in Billy as the time passed. His first video to you, he’d been distraught and angry, trying to explain everything to you in a way that made sense while coming to terms with the fact that his life was exploding. The video after the Castles had been killed had been difficult to listen to, to say the least, but he’d been a combination of heartbroken and pissed, and you’d seen the fire in his eyes, heard the edge to his voice. The one from after Anvil’s opening had been short, but Billy was simply resigned in that one - he’d talked about your kiss, talked about saying goodbye. “I shoulda done it like that in March. I shoulda just been more honest, been more… but if you’ve made it this far, you know why I couldn’t, you know the risk. You know how dangero… You’re right. I have to let you go, I can’t keep pullin’ you back in. I already did, and it’s too dangerous, even though I tried not to, I … The next few, he’d been more calm, matter of fact - you could hear in his voice that he’d accepted his new reality - a life without you, without the Castles and without anything meaningful in it, aside from Anvil - something that had been his dream but that he’d allowed to be corrupted.

Billy had laid out everything for you - the reasoning behind your breakup, the reasons that he’d acted the way he had, the motivations for how hard he was working with the company, the need for him to try and help Frank in any way that he could… and even the ways that he was trying to make it seem as if everything was normal in his personal life. You’d assumed that Billy hadn’t been celibate after ending things with you, but hearing him talk about it? Seeing him looking at the camera and then away from it while he talked about the fact that he had to keep up appearances by being seen with other women, that he’d had to sell it by drawing them in and then cutting them lose? It hurt, and no number of apologies would ever make the feeling that you’d had in the pit of your stomach while you heard him apologize for sleeping with other women - and then remind you that he was doing it because he loved you disappear. He’s not wrong, though, it makes sense, it just…

You believed him, believed every word of what he said, because the things he said in the videos lined up with the other files on the computer - the pictures, the spreadsheets, the documents. They even lined up with the phone calls and the text messages, and you knew without a doubt that they’d line up with Anvil’s records, too. Billy had had to do a lot off the books, but it seemed like before he’d turned over the invoices to whoever it was that had paid him for the ‘special’ missions, he’d made copies of documents, made notes of the transactions. Though Anvil’s headquarters was nothing but a smoking pile of ash, there was a separate portion of the hard drive dedicated to it - and to the records. I have everything. Everything he worked for. Everything he was. “I know that my discharge papers say somethin’ different on record, but I have the real ones, I asked for ‘em when I came home. It was before Rawlins got to… he’s gonna use the ones he did, the ones… but I know. These are real, and you’ll have em, they’ll… they’ve gotta be good for something, right?”

As time passed, you could see that for Billy, things were falling apart and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Frank’s supposed reappearance - and the fact that Madani was also looking for the man weighed heavily on him - you watched the look on his face change, the fear in his eyes grow. “If Frankie’s really back, he’s gonna know, he’s… I’m not gonna be able to explain, because how do you… how do I explain that? How do I get him to listen for long enough to...” Billy had wanted to see Frank again, had been both relieved and afraid to learn that the man was still alive, but it presented him with a lot of problems, too. “I didn’t want to turn him over to Rawlins, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell him no, because I’m in too deep now, he still has leverage on me, and I can’t… I won’t risk it.” Billy had been relieved that Frank hadn’t shown up at the docks, and then the bombings and hotel attack had happened, exposing him to both Madani and Frank at the same time. “That’s not how I wanted him to find out, not how I wanted her to find out, either. I don’t… she was a means to an end, but I didn’t… it was never supposed to happen like this, I shoulda known that Frankie wouldn’t let it… fuck.”

There was no doubt that in the few days leading up to Billy showing up on your doorstep, he’d been trying to make sure that you had everything you could ever need on the laptop - and on the phone, which is where the call logs and text messages still were stored, along with audio recordings of meetings that he’d had with Rawlins and other men that you didn’t recognize - because while most of the information was organized, there were also things that were messily added, not labeled thoroughly, just put on the computer so that it would be there after he wasn’t.

But it was the last video - the one that you watched, curled up in bed, wearing his sweats and clutching the dog tag in one hand - that forced you into action, caused you to start thinking about what you could do with the information you had. In it, Billy was in a dark room, and he was wearing the outfit you’d last seen him in, hair hanging over his eyes and his skin pale, but his voice was sure, and he’d done something that he hadn’t in any of the previous videos: he stared directly into the camera for the whole thing.

“So this is it. I’m meetin’ Frankie tonight, and it’s… it’s gonna be one of us or neither of us. I gotta fight, I’ve always fought, and even though after what I did, just lettin’ him have me is what I deserve, it won’t… he won’t… I can’t just lay down and die.” He’d run his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I gotta say this now, because it could be my only chance, and if I say it to you when I come there in a few hours, you won’t let me leave.” Your heart was pounding as Billy leaned in, staring at you through the screen. “He thinks I’m somethin’ that I’m not, at least not completely. I did a lot of bad shit, a lot that I wish I wouldn’t have done, but it’s always been about survival. For me, for you, for him, for… fuck. You know how I get, so I can’t… I can’t promise you that I’m gonna make it through the night. Frankie and me, we always… we bring out the best in each other, but we also... “ Billy shook his head. “I told you I’d come back to you, no matter how long it took me, but I can’t… I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that after tonight. I don’t think I deserve it, because this whole fucking thing is just… I just tried to… I’m tired. I’m tired of things bein’ like this, tired of… this isn’t me. It can’t be me anymore.”

He stood and walked away, coming back with the book you’d made him in his hands, holding it up for you to see that it was tattered, the pages bent and ripped at the edges. “I think you coulda forgiven me for the drugs, even though you would have been mad. And I know you woulda told me to … to warn ‘em, instead of… but I couldn’t. I tried to tell you without tellin’ you, but now I’m… You loved me, and I think you still might, but you need to know that it didn’t matter who I was with or what I was doin’, or what any of them say.” Billy tore the last page from the book and held it up, turning it so that you could see the words, even though they were backwards. “I just love you. I always have. And if you love me, you’ll use this - everything I gave you - not to clear my name, but at least to… explain why I did what I did. Maria’s parents, maybe? Frankie, if he makes it… if… fuck. Just promise me that you won’t blame yourself. I didn’t give you a choice - I made it for you.” He sighed, looking down, and you saw that the bloody fingerprint was on the card. “Make it worth it. Help him if you can.” Billy licked his lips, saying your name and holding his hand up to the screen - much like he’d done when he was overseas. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

The video ended there, and you sat staring at the screen - his face frozen in a mask of sadness, his hand against the screen with his fingers splayed. He thought Frank would win. He didn’t think he would… Without thinking, you reached up to mirror the motion, tears streaming down your face. “Oh, Billy.” You took a deep breath, eyes finally moving away from the screen and down to where the rest of the items from the box were spread out on your bed, thinking. He told me to make it worth it, but the only thing… You shook your head. Frank was still alive, that much was for sure. He deserves to know, he needs to… this can clear his name, too, give him closure, it’ll… You took a deep breath, still thinking. But Billy’s still alive, too.

As much as you hated Frank for what he’d done to Billy, you understood it. From where Frank stood, Billy was solely responsible for the deaths of his family, and there’d been no reason for it aside from Billy’s own selfishness and his desire to become wealthy and respected. That has to change. He needs to… Your breath leaving you in a shudder, you closed your eyes. Billy was in the hospital, clinging to life, and when he woke, he’d have Homeland and the rest of the government pinning crimes on him that he hadn’t been responsible for while overlooking the part that their own men - and women - had played. You knew that they’d likely frozen Billy’s bank accounts; despite the fact that he’d included his own credit and debit cards in a separate envelope, as well as information for two offshore accounts, you were wary of counting on any of that money to be there when and if Billy needed it. But my account, he’s... I can use that, I can... You climbed out of the bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you paced your room, thinking.

Billy would have a public defender, a lawyer that was likely going to be able to be intimidated, one that wouldn’t work hard to save the life of his client - someone that he didn’t care at all about. And he’ll lose. And he’ll go to jail, or worse. He’d said it himself - he was guilty of a lot of things, but in all of the coverage you’d seen over the past week and a half, there had been no mention of anyone government or military being involved, aside from Billy and Lewis. He’s going to get blamed for everything, even the things he didn’t… Even Frank’s name had been scrubbed from the narrative; he’d saved the lives of two teenagers as well as Madani’s on the carousel, but after that, nothing. He can’t just… he’ll have to… “He said to help him.” You spoke out loud to your empty apartment, blinking away more tears. Billy had meant Frank, you knew that he had, but you didn’t know how to get in touch with him - and if you were being honest with yourself, didn’t know if you could face him, knowing what you did. I had no idea, I didn’t… You stopped in your doorway, looking back at the bed, and then looked down, realizing that you still had Billy’s dog tag in your hand, uncurling your fingers and finding that you’d been holding it so tightly that there were indentations left in the skin of your palm. I guess you had a preference, Billy. You just didn’t… you didn’t realize it until it was too late.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped the dog tag into your pocket, squaring your shoulders. Figure it out. He did. He … Your eyes landed on your phone, which was sitting on the nightstand, and you hurried back to it, picking it up. Who can I trust? You didn’t know where to begin; you’d never needed a lawyer, never been in trouble with the law, never had to think about what you’d do if you ever needed to defend yourself in public. There has to be someone, but… Leaving Billy’s laptop and everything else, you walked back into the living room, eyes moving over to the TV stand, where the pictue of you and Billy had been, though you’d moved it. That picture started it, it was… Shaking your head to clear it, you moved to the couch, perching on the arm and holding your phone. Focus. You didn’t even know what time of day it was; you’d been in a haze since you’d opened the box, but as your eyes wandered again to the TV stand, you pressed your lips together. It’s only noon, it’s the middle of the day, it’s what, a Friday? You unlocked your phone, opening the browser and took a deep breath before typing ‘criminal defense attorney New York City’ into the window and hitting search.

There were hundreds of results, and as you scrolled through them, you frowned. I can’t trust them, I don’t know if… they won’t take it seriously, they… You set the phone down, closing your eyes and rubbing your fingers over them. You were exhausted, and even though you’d been sleeping, your dreams were once again filled with Billy’s face, with his voice - and even though you had no clue what Frank had truly done to him, the dreams often featured Billy with injuries - scars and raised skin, bandages covering wide swaths of his face. You felt guilty - more guilty than you’d ever felt in your life, and you knew that you wouldn’t be over that feeling for a long time, especially not when you knew that Frank was still - “Frank.” You dropped your hands, picking your phone back up and typing again. This time, the search was more pointed - ‘Frank Castle defense attorney’ - and your eyes widened as you scrolled through those results. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson’s law office was known for taking on difficult clients, and the two men were also known for getting results. “Can they help me? Help...Billy?” You swallowed, eyes scanning the page and you gasped when you saw a name that jumped out at you - Karen.

Frank had mentioned someone named Karen when he was talking about Billy, and the fact that she was associated with the lawyers couldn’t have been coincidence. You remembered Curtis mentioning her, too, both men saying her name with reverance. She helped Frank, she… You closed your fingers around your phone, squeezing your eyes shut. If she helped Frank when he was accused of… she might… You knew it was a long shot - if she was invested in Frank’s wellbeing, she’d likely be hesitant to listen to Billy’s side of things without rushing to judgement. But she doesn’t know, none of them do. Your heart pounding, you backed out of the news article and typed the woman’s name into your browser. She’s a reporter. You took a deep breath, scrolling, and saw that along with her email address and the newspaper’s phone number, she had her extension specifically listed on her profile. That has to be… You swallowed, memorizing the four numbers and biting your lip. It’s a long shot. But it’s the only… it’s the only one I’ve got.

You started the call before you could question yourself again, taking a deep breath and repeating the extension number when a man answered. As you were transferred, you felt your heart in your throat, foot tapping against the floor rapidly. “Karen Page, New York Bulletin.” Freezing, you didn’t respond right away. “Hello?” You made a split second decision, closing your eyes briefly and then opening them, your eyes landing on the decorated tree in the corner. I have to do this. “Hello? Is there -”

“Miss Page?” Your voice shook, and you paused, swallowing before you introduced yourself. “I… I think you can help me.”

“You’re…” She paused. “I know your name, you’re Billy Russo’s…” She stopped herself and you heard yourself laughing quietly. “I’m sorry, that was… how can I help you?”

“Miss Page… Karen…” Your eyes went back to your hallway, the corner of the laptop just visible. “I didn’t know who else to…” You fought to keep your voice even, trying to figure out the best way to continue. Just say it. “Billy Russo isn’t the person that you think he is.” You heard her exhale, but continued before she could say anything. “I have… I have some things I need to show … someone, anyone that can help, I…”

“Why do you think I can help you?” Her voice was slightly colder than it had been previously, but you heard the interest in it too. “I don’t -”

“You believed in Frank Castle.” She sucked in a breath loudly. “You knew there was more to it than what they…” Now or never. “There’s more to this, too.” There was a long pause.

“I’m listening.” You let out your own breath, which was more like a sigh of relief before you closed your eyes, nodding. That’s all I needed.

---

The next day, there was a knock on your door, and when you opened it, you forced a smile at the blonde woman, inviting her in. You hadn’t slept well the previous night and were nervous - not because you feared what Karen would say in response to what you showed her, but because sharing what Billy had left you was opening up the remnants of your relationship - of his life - to someone on the outside, someone with an allegiance to Frank. But she’s … I have to. “Hello, Miss P-”

“Call me Karen, please.” She stepped into your apartment, shaking her had. “So many people out today, you’d think they would have gotten it all out of their….” She trailed off, noticing the confused expression on your face. “Yesterday… was Black Friday?” Karen cocked her head to the side, frowning slightly. “Day after Thanksgi…” You shook your head, brow furrowed. I didn’t even realize. I missed… You watched her as she watched you, her eyes raking over your body. You’d showered, changed into clean clothes and made an attempt to improve your appearance, but knew that you still looked rough. “You love him.” She swallowed. “Still, even after -”

“I do. And I owe him.” There was no shame in your voice, nothing but the truth in it. “And you’ll understand better once…” You gestured to your kitchen table, where the laptop was sitting, open and unlocked. “Before I show you what he left me, I need to tell you… do you want something to drink?”

Over the course of an hour, you filled Karen in on your history with Billy, starting with how you’d met and ending with the moment he’d left you for the last time the night of the fight with Frank. She’d listened, her eyes growing wide at certain parts of the story, but hadn’t interrupted, a pen held tightly between her fingers as she took notes. You were honest with her, telling her details that you wouldn’t have told anyone else, because you wanted her to know the Billy that you knew, the man that you’d fallen in love with. “And he left me a box, telling me it was the truth… but I didn’t open it, I couldn’t, because it felt like…”

“Like moving on. Like… ending that part of your life, the part that was with him.” She spoke quietly and you nodded, watching as she set the pad and pen down on the coffee table, next to her empty beer bottle. “You opened it, though.” You nodded, recounting Frank’s visit to you a few days after the fight, followed by your trip to the hospital and the encounter with Madani. “I’ve met her. She’s… she saved Frank’s life, her and Lieberman, after…” You watched her eyes flash. “After he killed Rawlins, and again after he fought with…” Karen bit her lip and used her fingers to wipe beneath her eyes. She loves him. You felt a chill run through your body at the realization, but you knew that you were too far in to stop things. “He’s gone, he’s not in the city anymore, you know that?” I didn’t. “He left Madani to look after Billy, told her to call him if anything changed, said he’d come back if he needed to, but even… even after what Billy did to Frank, to his family, he didn’t… he couldn’t kill him.” Karen shook her head. “I don’t know how he… Frank’s a good person, but, Billy, he took -”

“He didn’t do it because he wanted to.” You spoke quietly. “He never wanted to hurt them, never would have…” You met her eyes, feeling yours flooding with tears that you didn’t even try to hold back. “Rawlins gave Billy a choice, Karen. And I didn’t know it until I watched…” You gestured to the laptop, shaking your head back and forth. “Rawlins wanted Frank dead, not Maria and the kids. Billy thought…” You looked down and then back up at Karen, who was watching you silently, hands clasped together on her lap. “Rawlins told Billy that if he warned Frank, if he tipped him off in any way, that he’d…” Your jaw worked silently, but you only paused for a moment before continuing, saying the words out loud for the first time. “He said he’d kill me.”

---

Karen had been on the phone moments after watching the first video that Billy had recorded for you, the woman pacing back and forth in your living room as she talked with somone on the other end of the line. “I need you to pack up everything - not the clothes, but the laptop, the other stuff, the papers… and you need to come with me.” Shocked, you’d nodded, slipping Billy’s laptop and phone into your own bag, adding in the paperwork and few envelopes along with it. By the time you’d finished, Karen was sitting on your couch again, head in her hands and her long hair hanging through her fingers. “We’ll figure this out.” She looked up at you, and you saw that her eyes were shining. “I trust Frank. He’d never… he’s never…” She shook her head. “But that didn’t seem like…” No, it didn’t. She stood, pressing her lips together and then she crossed the room to you, putting her arms around your shoulders and pulling you close. Though you were surprised, you hugged her back, feeling a sense of comfort for the first time since Billy had walked out the previous week. “Matt and Foggy will know what to do, they’ll… Matt will be able to…”

So the two of you had taken a cab to Hell’s Kitchen, entering a large and open apartment. You recognized the man that opened the door as Matt Murdock, and though blind, he’d reached out for your hand before you could say a word, introducing himself. “Karen tells me you have a case...or what you think is a case?” He smiled at you, and out of habit you nodded, opening your mouth to speak.

“I do, Mr. Murdock, I -”

“Matt. Call me Matt. If we’re going to be working on this, you should…” He led you deeper into the apartment, asking you to set up the laptop and play the video you’d played for Karen. You watched him with interest as he listened to Billy’s words, his face giving nothing away. It was one of the longer videos, but as Karen pressed the pause button at the end of it, you felt like it wasn’t long enough. “And he recorded that when, Karen?”

“The date of the file is from about a week before the Castles were killed, Matt.” She sighed. “I mean, we’d need to check it out, and make sure, but… the other videos, they all have dates that line up with things Frank told me, things that we looked into for his case and with The Blacksmith. I mean, it… there seems like there could be a lot of truth to it, and if…” She trailed off. “If there is, then this could get interesting, Matt.” She believes.

“Russo’s voice… he believed what he was saying.” Matt frowned, shaking his head. “He was genuinely upset.” You leaned in, reaching past Matt to open up the file from the day that the Castles had been killed, pressing play. Just keep going, that’s all you can do now. When that video ended, you glanced over at Karen, whose eyes were read, tears streaking down her cheeks. You were crying too, but you were spent, your body almost too tired to produce any real tears. “He really didn’t know.” Matt’s voice was filled with surprise. “That changes things. If there was proof that -”

“There is. It’s short, but there’s a recording on Billy’s phone, I don’t know how he got it, but it’s…” You swallowed. “It’s Rawlins and Billy the day of the…” You pulled the phone out, going through it. “Rawlins tells Billy that there are men outside of where I work, and if anything goes wrong, if Frank isn’t there, or if he seems like he was tipped off, they’ll grab me when I go to lunch.” You pressed play, letting Matt and Karen listen. Some of the audio was garbled, since you assumed that Billy had had the phone in his pocket, but most of the words were clear.

“Does R… Billy have a lawyer?” You told him you didn’t know, and Matt nodded. “We’ll look into it. They can’t try him, or even charge him with anything formally until he wakes up and they assess… his brain function.” You gasped and Matt continued. “It’s been all over the news, I’ve… kept up with it.” Of course you have. “We have time, but we can’t… we can’t let anyone know that this information exists, not until we go through it, and…” Matt sighed. “Karen, can I talk to you for a minute?” The blonde nodded, and Matt pointed at the refrigerator. “Help yourself, we’ll be right back.” They walked slowly away and down the hall, and you turned the laptop to face you, staring again at Billy’s face, paused on the screen. I’m going to help you, Russo. Even if they won’t, I … A few minutes passed and then you heard your name, Matt stepping back down the hallway in front of Karen, who looked determined. “We’ll need to keep the laptop and the phone, it’s evidence. Once we can verify that things were created on the days that … that he says they were, we can move forward.” You agreed and Matt took a deep breath. “I still have to talk to Foggy, but… I think that we can help Billy, and maybe Frank, too.”

You felt yourself deflate, your knees growing weak. “You...you believe him?” That time, your voice shook, and as you gripped the edge of the counter, you felt Karen’s hand on your back, heard her murmur your name. “I know you guys believe Frank, and you trust him, and…”

“Frank’s entire… everything he ever did was to… was for the people he loved.” Karen shook her head, and for the first time, you noticed the faint scabbing on her face, the scar next to her lip. “If Billy really did that for you - and there’s proof? Proof that he…” She shook her head. “They’re going to try to bury him, and no one will ever know the truth if they have it their way. Sweeping what Rawlins and Bennett and Schoonover and Madani …what all of them did under the rug to save face?” Karen shook her head. “That’s not right, that’s not what .... Not what people like Frank and Billy fought for.” Karen nodded, her eyes clear. “I believe Frank. I believe that Frank did what he thought was right because of what they did to his family, but … but that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe Billy, too.”

“There’s a lot of work to do.” Matt spoke again, drawing your attention. “If Billy wakes up, we’ll need to be there almost as soon as Madani’s guy is, so we need to get to work on this.” You nodded, forgetting again that Matt couldn’t see it, but he grinned, continuing. “We need to go through all of these files, and start working on a strategy, figure out what we can…”

“Matt?” You swallowed, eyes moving back to the laptop. “If… if he doesn’t wake up, that laptop… the phone… it’s all… it’s all I have left of him, and it’s the only proof that he…”

“We can make you copies of the videos.” Karen’s hand rubbed against your back, her voice quiet. “I’ll do that right away and get them back to you, just in case.”

“Yeah.” Matt cleared his throat, nodding his head. “It’s probably good to have backups anyway.”

---

Things moved quickly, and over the course of the next few weeks, Matt, Karen and Foggy worked tirelessly on the case, categorizing all of the information and printing things out, connecting dots. Karen’s position on the paper allowed her to dig into files and reports, getting them more information on the men that Frank - and Billy - had killed. It had only taken a few days for them to come to the conclusion that nothing on the phone or laptop had been fabricated, meaning that while the truth behind Billy’s words couldn’t be validated unless he woke up and remembered, he’d recorded and saved things as he went - not all at once, and not after the fact. It made you appreciate what he’d done for you even more, and it made you hate Madani and the government more, too.

Though you weren’t allowed in the room with Billy again, you visited him multiple times a week, sitting quietly in the hallway in a chair that faced his room, waiting for any sign of change.

Nothing happened - aside from the bandages on his face getting thinner, the bulk disappearing as the wounds beneath them healed. Madani was in the room with him most of the times that you were there, and while you couldn’t hear what she was saying, you watched as she spoke to him, the anger on her face and in her posture palpable. She’s going to try everything to … to ruin him. You kept it together, taking everything in, and reported back to Matt and Karen, letting them know if you overheard anything from Madani or the doctors, but it wasn’t until the beginning of the third week of December that they had to take action.

Billy’s court appointed lawyer had visited with Madani, and though you didn’t catch all of their conversation, you watched the man shake hands with her and heard him say that when Billy woke up, things wouldn’t take long to wrap up. I knew it. You texted Karen as soon as you left the hospital, and not less than 24 hours later, you received a message from Foggy, telling you that he and Matt had officially taken on Billy as a client, letting Madani’s team know that the court appointed lawyer would be replaced, pending Billy’s return to consciousness. You felt relief, but it was short lived, as the next time you showed up at the hospital Madani refused to speak to you, instead glaring at you as she walked by, going back into Billy’s room and blocking your view of the man by closing the blinds.

You weren’t allowed into the room - aside from a short visit on New Year’s Eve, something Karen had advocated for once she’d found out it was Billy’s birthday, but nothing changed with him. He was still out, still unresponsive, and even though you could see that he was healing - bruises and cuts fading from his arms, the doctors (and his own heightened senses) telling Matt that the other injuries on his body were getting better, too, you were beginning to worry that Billy wouldn’t ever wake up.

Even after the bandages came off, exposing the thick and jagged scarring on Billy’s face to the open air, he didn’t stir. You watched his chest rise and fall through the window, watched the monitors, eyes on the numbers, listened as much as you could to the doctors and nurses … and hoped. By the end of January, even Matt had said that things were changing, and he could almost hear Billy’s body as it healed, but he still didn’t respond - not to Madani, not to Detective Mahoney, not even to the medical staff, when they poked and prodded at him, examining him or manipulating his body so that he didn’t remain in one position. His arms and legs were thinner than you ever imagined that they could be, but they were nowhere near as thin as his face; Billy’s eyes sunken in, the raised and angry pink skin stretched tight over his skull. He looked nothing like the man that you knew, but that didn’t change the way you felt. This is because of me. Frank fighting him is because of me.

While at work on a Tuesday in February, your phone rang, showing Karen’s number on the screen. You answered, unsure of why she was calling - but you didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Karen said your name, and at the sound, your grip on your phone tightened, chest growing tight. “He’s awake.”

You made it to the hospital in record time, and even though Karen met you at the front doors, you barely stopped until you were in the elevator, foot tapping on the floor. “Is he -”

“I called you as soon as they called Matt.” She swallowed. “Madani’s been trying to get in there, I guess, but the doctors won’t let her, since Matt and Foggy are his legal council, and she’s not even technically supposed to be in the room.” I didn’t know that. “The cops will usually let her in, but if Mahoney’s here, she stays away, and now that he’s awake…” Karen shook her head. “You can’t go in, not yet, but maybe if he… if he sees you? Sees someone familiar that isn’t… her?” You nodded, nearly sprinting out of the elevator when the doors opened, but stopped in your tracks when you saw that Billy’s blinds were closed. That’s new. Madani was pacing in the hallway, her arms crossed and she swore when she saw you, rolling her eyes. “Agent Madani.”

Karen’s voice was frosty, and you and the blonde woman stopped in front of Billy’s door, waiting. “The lawyers are in there now, along with one of the -” Madani rolled her eyes. “You’re not going in there.”

“I know.” You eyed her, not saying anything else. It didn’t feel any different in the hallway, even though you knew that Billy was awake, but you could feel the anger rolling off of her, saw the way she was looking at you and Karen. “I -” Billy’s door opened and the officer stepped out, talking to Madani.

“He’s lawyered up. We can’t speak to him again unless they’re present, but the doctors also said that he needs some time to recover. He can’t -”

“I don’t care. I want to see him now.” Madani pointed at the door, whch was still open a few inches. “I want to go in -”

“No. Agent Madani, we’ve allowed you to go in up until now, but there’s nothing we can do, both doctors as well as I heard him agree to let Murdock and Nelson -”

“And Page.” Karen spoke up from next to you. “I’m a junior partner, we’re just waiting for my cards to come in.” She shrugged. “I’m on the team too, so I’ll have access to Mr. Russo.” Madani’s face turned thunderous, but the officer nodded.

“Murdock and Nelson and Page represent him, so unless one of them is present, you won’t be able to be in the room with him, and neither will we, except to guard the medical staff.” Swearing under her breath, Madani spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving the three of you - and the single guard outside the door - standing in the hallway. “Ms. Page, if you’d like you can join them in the room.” Karen nodded and squeezed your arm before she stepped away, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. I just want to see him, I want to see him awake, I… “Take a seat, it might be a while.” The officer - one of the guards that you’d become familiar with sighed as you shook your head. “Suit yourself.” Minutes passed and then the door opened again, a doctor and a nurse leaving and shutting it behind them, walking down the hallway and talking quietly between themselves. What is happening? What… You stared at the window, eyes unfocused, and then, after what felt like a long time had passed, you watched as the blinds rose, Karen’s worried face inches away from yours. She was blocking your view of Billy, and waited until you’d met her anxious eyes and nodded once to step to the right, letting you see him.

His head was turned to the side, looking away from you as he talked to Matt and Foggy, but after a few seconds, Billy’s head moved, even though it didn’t lift from the pillow. Oh, God. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion, your heart thudding behind your ribs as you watched him move for the first time in months. Billy’s head stopped, his cheek resting on the pillow, and you stepped closer to the window, staring at him, even though his eyes were closed. He finally opened them and you felt your eyes widen as you saw them through the glass - the same brown eyes that you’d gotten so used to staring into looking at you as if they didn’t see you at first. Billy it’s me. It… You watched as his eyes widened, eyebrows rising, and for the briefest moment, a flash of recognition went through them, his jaw twitching. Hi. But then it was gone, Billy’s brow furrowing as he kept staring at you. No… what… he doesn’t… Unwilling to give up, you raised your hand to the glass, pressing your palm against it and tilting your head to the side. Come on, Billy. It’s me.

For the span of a few seconds, you thought he was going to respond, but then Billy closed his eyes again, turning his head back toward Matt and Foggy. Feeling crushed but trying not to show it, you stepped away from the glass, dropping into the chair you typically sat in and putting your face into your hands. It doesn’t matter. He’s awake. He’s alive. Nothing else matters.

---

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synthsizedproductions · 4 years ago

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Short #1: Life Debt

CW: Strong language, abuse of power, cat attack

Have I told you the one about how I got my first pet? No? Oh, you’re in for a treat.

I lived a pretty normal life back then. Just a high school kid with a dead-end job, absent parents, and more mental instabilities than the whole of the Glennbrook Institution. You can bet I’m glad that madhouse didn’t exist when I was that age. The stories that come outta there…Tales for another time, eh?

Anyway, I walked everywhere because damned if I could afford gas. Or a car. Or a bike. Like I said, dead-end job. On top of that, my parents decided since I had a job, I should pay rent and shit. They said it was to teach me “responsibility” and “frugalness”. You know what it actually taught me? Landlords are dicks. Remember that lesson, kid. It’ll come in handy. Trust.

So, I’m walking to work. It’s this little shithole office with gray walls, gray carpets, and gray people. It didn’t help that the place was poorly lit. When I first started working there, I came in with a smile and a goofy bowtie covered in purple rubber dupkies. I thought it would make a good icebreaker with my new co-workers, and maybe I could make some friends for once. All I made was a scene when the boss man flipped his shit about it being loud and distracting. Good thing I need the job more than I wanted to sock that ass right in the nose. Now I learned that bosses were dicks, too. Another solid lesson.

Hm? What’s this got to do with my first pet? Gimme a minute, kid. Geeze. You first years are so impatient.

Anyway, so, I’m walking to work when I hear a cat screaming. Sounded like a fight. Normally, I wouldn’t bother investigating that kinda thing, but something didn’t sound right. Like, this fight wasn’t gunna be a fair one. I glanced at my watch. I was ahead of schedule. There was no way this would take longer than a few minutes. Just had to scare off a couple of cats, maybe a street dog or something.

So, I round the corner and that’s when I realize there weren’t just two cats facing off back there. It was a whole mess of cats, dozen or so, ganging up on this scrawny tabby cat who they had cornered between two buildings. These cats were mad. I had no idea what that one cat had done to piss off a whole colony, but I was certain it wasn’t going to survive this encounter.

I was considering booking it when the cat’s eyes locked on mine. One was blue, the other green. I could see how scared it was. Pits, I could almost feel how scared it was. My survival instincts, what few I had, disappeared and all I could think of was rescuing the tabby cat. I barreled my way through the crowd of felines, scooped their target up, and ran like it was my life on the line. When I heard the colony hissing and spitting behind me, I was no longer sure it wasn’t my blood they wanted. The tabby hissed over my shoulder, its tail whipping about and smacking me in the face as I fled.

I yelled in agony as one of the cats leapt upon me, digging its claws and teeth into my skin and ripping my work shirt. I threw the offender off and picked up my pace, my heart pounding harder than I’d ever felt before. I winced when the cat in my arms dug its nails into my shoulder, but my pain was forgotten when a shot of adrenaline hit me. I sprinted down the road faster than I’d ever gone before. I wasn’t sure how I was pushing myself that hard, but I didn’t care. I needed to get away from that crazy colony and maybe I could still make it to work on time.

I practically tumbled through the building’s entrance, scrambling away from the door when razor-sharp claws swiped at me from beneath it. I backed up until my back hit the reception desk.

~~~~~~

“Might wanna change up your cologne, hun. Looks like you’re attracting the wrong kind of pussy.” Maribelle grinned at me, but her expression fell when she saw my back. “They were out for blood, weren’t they? Better grab a shirt from lost and found before the boss sees you. Why were those cats coming after you?”

I moved to lift the cat I’d rescued to show her, but it was gone. I didn’t remember it leaving, but I figured the chase still had me on edge and I could have missed it. “Um, I guess I just pissed them off.” Before Maribelle could ask any further questions, I darted into the storage closet, found a shirt that would fit me, and made my way to my desk like it was any normal day. I sat down and began my data entry, losing myself in the monotony.

My concentration was broken when I felt something brush against my leg. I looked under my desk to find the eerie feline staring at me. “There you are. How did you get up here?” I looked around before scooping the cat up and placing it in my lap. It purred louder than my brother’s motorcycle. I’d never had a pet. My parents were both allergic to pretty much every animal. I tried to talk them into getting me one of those newfangled Fazyn since they’re designed in the lab to be hypoallergenic, but they also cost more than my family made in a year.

I smiled down at the content creature. “If you behave and stay hidden, you can stay.” It settled in my lap, purring in great contentment as I pet the cat. I didn’t let myself get too distracted. I still had a job to do and the end of my shift was hours away. Despite the mountain of tasks on my plate, I calmly meandered through them, taking a moment to pet the tabby after every few files.

“Gravtik!”

I fell out of my chair when my boss screamed my last name, looking up at the red-faced Dwarf in utter confusion. I whipped my head around to find the cat, but it had disappeared.

He glared down at me with his hands on his hips. “You’re behind on your daily quota. I told you the next time I caught you slacking off that your ass was on the line. I do not have time for lazy losers like you. Get up, get back to work. You’re working through lunch.” He stomped away before I could respond.

I righted my chair and moved to sit in it, but stopped short before I sat on the tabby cat. “You certainly have a knack for disappearing at the right time.” I shooed the cat from my chair and sat down. I held a hand in front of its nose when it tried to jump into my lap again. “No, no, no. I need to focus. You’re bad for my focus.”

It blinked at me and tilted its head one way and then the other, its ears twitching. I stifled a yelp when the cat bit my ankle. I leaned down to scold the animal but was suddenly hit with a wave of energy like I’d downed every coffee in the city all at once. I gazed at my computer in a daze and placed my hands on my keyboard. My fingers went into overdrive as I ran through the documents I was working with. I completed more in ten minutes than I had in the last week. I panted when all of the assignments were complete, my hands all but useless. The tabby rubbed against my leg before leaping into my lap again and I laid my shaking hands on the feline’s back, its warmth and purring soothing the aches in my joints.

“Gravtik!”

I closed my eyes and sighed when the burly man in a suit stormed over to me. “What’s up, boss? I finished all of my work.”

He crossed his arms. “I saw that. You even did it with higher accuracy than is actually possible for a person. What did you do? What program did you download on our computers?”

I shook my head and stared at him in bewilderment. “What? I didn’t do anything that I don’t normally. I guess I just really wanted my lunch today.”

My boss grinned at me with a wicked look in his eyes. “I actually came down here to tell you that since you did such a fast, efficient job, the execs want you to work through lunch anyway. I told them you wouldn’t mind.”

My computer beeped and my task list filled in an instant. I felt a mix of anger and despair which burned in my chest. I watched my boss leave, my hands clamped around the arms of my chair. The cat mewed at me and the heat of my rage cooled. “How did he not see you?”

I watched my coworkers shuffle away to eat their gray food in the gray breakroom and my stomach growled. “I really could have used that lunch break. Gilbert’s is still open and I could go for some nice hot chili.” I closed my eyes and imagined the mild, smoky smell Gill managed to balance just right. I could practically smell it.

That’s when I realized, I did smell it. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by an enormous takeout container filled to the brim with chili, steam wafting into the air. I looked around and tried to find whoever left this feast for me. There was no one. No one but me and the tabby. I narrowed my eyes at the cat who had an oddly satisfied look. “How did…did you…? No, that’s not possible. Maribelle must have snuck up here.”

I knew I should have just gotten back to work. If the boss caught me eating at my desk, that would be it for me. My belly growled to remind me I hadn’t eaten at school. Or before leaving my house. The delicious scent was too enticing to resist. I shoveled my food into my mouth as I worked, trying to push myself to work at the impossible pace I had minutes before to no avail.

“Gravtik!”

I froze with my last spoonful of chili on my spoon, my heart sinking when he stormed his way to my cubicle again. “What do you think you’re doing? How did you even get that in here? You know what? I don’t care. This is the final straw, Gravtik. Pack up your desk and get out before I have security escort you out. Good luck getting another job in this field. I’ll get you blacklisted so fast your head will spin.”

The tabby jumped onto my desk and stoically stared at my now dumbfounded boss with contempt written on its face. I didn’t even think cats could make expressions like that. “I would reconsider whose head is up for spinning, underling.” My boss and I stared at the creature on my desk. Its mouth hadn’t moved, the words projected into our minds.

My boss took a step back as his face paled. “What the fuck is going on? Gravtik! C-control that animal!”

The cat and I looked at each other and I shook my head. “I think you might be confused about the relationship between me and…um, what’s your name?”

Its tail flicked so fast it appeared the tabby had multiple tails. “You would not be able to speak my name. Even if your vocal cords could make the correct sounds, it would likely drive you mad to speak. But you may call me Tom.”

“Tom? Like, a Tomcat?”

Tom tilted his head. “I had not considered that when choosing my name. I’ll have to keep that one.” The cat’s attention snapped back to my trembling boss. “You have been quite cruel to my new friend. As he has saved my life, I owe him a life debt. However, I cannot stand cruelty for cruelty’s sake., so this one is free.” Tom flung himself at my boss and a black hole appeared underneath him, swallowing him whole and closing just at the cat’s feet touched the ground.

My eyes went wide. “Where did he go? What’s going to happen to him?”

Tom dug his claws into the carpet and stretched as far as he could. “He is in the cruelty box. What happens next is up to him. You are unlikely to see him again. He seems like the stubborn type.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “So, how do I explain his disappearance?”

Tom gave me a puzzled look. “Why would you need to explain this at all? He is gone. He will be replaced. The universe will right itself.”

I flopped down in my chair. “What is that supposed to mean? What are you?”

Tom climbed into my lap again and settled. “What I am is complicated. To put it in a way you will understand, I am an Elder Deity and I am trapped on your plane of existence. I seek a way home but have been unsuccessful thus far. I was trying to blend in with those cats, however, they were less than pleased by my presence.”

I scratched him behind his ear. “Wait, why couldn’t you just do to those cats like you did to him?”

Tom purred with a satisfied grin when I found a good spot. “I was running low on Magic. It takes quite a bit to maintain this form so I may walk among you Mortals.”

I frowned, uncertain I wanted the answer to my next question. “Then how did you do it now?”

Tom yawned and I caught sight of an impossible number of teeth in his mouth. “You chose to save me. I chose to empower you so we could both escape. As I said, I owe you a life debt. A life debt that now connects us until the universe has deemed our transaction complete.”

I tried to process his words…thoughts…This was all so confusing. “So, are you saying you’re feeding off of me so you can fuel your Magic?”

Tom laid his head on his paws. “If that is how you wish to see it, though you are describing a parasite, which I am not. This isn’t a one-way exchange. Did you not appreciate the help I gave you with running or getting your work done? Did I not make your life a little easier?”

I couldn’t refute his words. It had been nice to feel more than just a scrawny teenager with no future prospects. “So, what am I supposed to do now?”

The cat shrugged and stretched out on my lap. “That food I retrieved for you smelled very good. We should get more.”

Before I knew what was happening, I was walking out of the building with Tom draped over my shoulders and straight for Gilbert’s Bar. “Hey! This is my body. You don’t get to just control it.” My body stopped moving and my feet felt rooted.

Tom hopped down and stared up at me with glowing eyes. “We should come to an understanding.” His shadow morphed into a far larger creature with six tentacle-like tails. One of the shadow tails shot at me, burying itself in my chest and wrapping around my heart. “This is OUR body right now. I owe you a life debt, but do not forget which one of us holds the power in this exchange. I cannot kill you, but I can make your life miserable and filled with pain. Do you understand your predicament?”

I nodded, gasping when the pressure on my heart dissipated. I took shaky breaths and touched my chest, my heart beating in an irregular way until Tom jumped onto my shoulder again. “So, how about we get that chili.”

~~~~~~

And from that day forward, Tom was my constant companion. Hm? Where is he now? Sorry, kid. That’ll have to wait for another day. Go on. Get to class before I get you in trouble.

This story was inspired by this tweet from @hoplitnet.

#Enlightened #Content Warnings #Shorts

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youngnari · 6 years ago

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My Love, My Home // Kim Dongyoung

—Notes : This is a rewrite from my first scenario I posted in the past and I thought the whole plot suits the man I love so dearly, i just had to dedicate it to him. I hope you all will enjoy this plot and please drop me a feedback or be my friend?

—Wc : 9302 words

—Warning : contains profanity aka swearing in some, and mentions of sexual tension

—Pairing : ceo!Kim Doyoung x female!reader

—Genre : 5 spoons of fluff + pinch of angst

—Summary : With the challenge of finding a stable job, you found it hard to achieve your life long dream on settling into a place you can call home.

Where home doesn’t always means a place you lived in, but a person

Home; under its roof, you are always protected.

It is a place you grow up in, where you seek warmth; a home is your haven from the brutal world. You could say that you spent almost your entire life in that one house you shared with your parents, because even when you moved out for college, that was the only place you ever wanted to be. You always had the urge to come back; even when you were out for holiday or a school camp and sleepover, nothing felt right but your own home.

There were many memories in your home. From the first day you entered primary school, high school graduation, stressing over your college application and praying so hard to be accepted, until the day you officially moved out for the first time into a mini version of the home you had lived in for so long.

Changes; that’s what everyone said. Your life had to move on, from living under your parents’ roof to dealing with the reality outside of your own comfort zone. You moved out of your home country and had to face college.

In that time of your life, you kind of downgraded a little. You remembered struggling to cope with your roommate, a person who was the direct opposite of you. Hence, it was hard for you to welcome her into your small bubble. But that wasn’t all, you missed home-cooked meals from your parents. You regretted not taking your mom’s offer of teaching you how to cook, resulting you to depend on campus meals on weekdays and toast with instant ramen on the weekend. You remembered breaking down, crying because of how homesick you were. You could have cared less if people thought you were weak, vulnerable for not being able to deal with the change. At that time, you wanted nothing but your home. You missed it.

But life went on, and in a snap, you were out of the college dorm and moving into a new home. A rundown apartment you thought was ready to collapse if someone accidentally sneezed on it.

When you graduated from college, you struggled to find a stable job. Every job opportunity you found you poured out your heart and soul on the resumes and during interviews. You only hoped for a job that could pay you above minimum wage, at least to give you the assurance to pay your rent and monthly needs every month. Often you found yourself stressing with bills and fees, splitting change and cash for food and groceries. Your parents always encouraged you to go through life like it’s nothing, and once you can see through your own capabilities it will get better.

It was tough, but you went through it all. For him.

A stable job which paid you generously, often you find it hard to believe the paycheck you received every end of the month. You moved to a more decent apartment where you could live comfortably, without being too paranoid about your life and having to use your life insurance. But also, a boyfriend.

And it started with a stupid, all too good to be true accident at your previous job.

2 years ago, you struggled to find a stable job. Every company that rejected you often said you were too slow, clumsy, and not good enough to work under the company. You were mad, ready to burn down the whole association, but you knew better. You walked out of the glass doors, screaming at your thin-walled apartment, and got filed for causing a disturbance in your floor.

That lead you to having to pay a fine, leaving you to spend more money that you didn’t have due to your own carelessness. So, you did what you had to do. Take any opportunities of any random job you could find, you ended up as a barista in a small café near the downtown area. It didn’t pay you enough, just barely for you to survive. But you still did it anyway, since you couldn’t find a proper job you had to do anything to continue to survive.

That café quickly become your new home.

The coffee shop opened at 8am and closed at 9pm, and you had a full time shift. You couldn’t consider the café to always be crowded; there was a decent handful of customers and they were mostly regulars. And amongst those regulars was your boyfriend—well, soon-to-be boyfriend.

You were wiping the tables and aligning the chairs on the floor to keep the whole space neat. You did all the cleaning and prepping for the shop before it opened. Right as the clock hit 8.10AM, you hear the bell chime from the door, signaling a customer had arrived. Every morning, without fail, it was the same man.

He had sleek black hair and sharp doe eyes, lean and tall. Whenever he walked into the shop, he gave off an aura of dominance and integrity. Always dressed formally with a suit, tailored specifically to fit his figure. You would be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated. But you couldn’t deny, that man was gorgeous, beautiful, and coffee deprived.

“Hello, welcome back!” You smiled enthusiastically, greeting the all too familiar stranger.

He had his eyebrows furrowed, looking at you like some outer being not from earth. How does one look so happy and jolly so early in the morning, he had thought a few times. But he wasn’t going to voice his question, as he had better things to do. His eyes scanned the menu board behind you, displaying all the beverages that were available. His gaze traveled to the display glass presenting all the baked goods, from sweet pastries to savory sandwiches.

“Today’s special is the breakfast croissant, we made a few fresh batches at the back if you are interested.” You said, catching his attention once again. He looked at you in a stoic manner, then he nodded curtly.

You took his order, ready to ask for his payment but he was ready to interject. He didn’t tell you about what coffee he wanted. You saw him hesitating, debating if it was appropriate to argue so early in the morning. You smiled.

“Americano, right?” You asked him. He snapped his head up to look at you, eyes widening in surprise.

“Americano with no sugar or syrup, extra shot. The usual?” You asked once again. He stood there for a while and nodded, and that was enough to send you off to make his order.

He watched you as you worked, hands gracefully pulling each machine together to make a cup of coffee. He was impressed, he didn’t need to spare you any word and you already knew his order. Without much thought, he had a small smile plastered on his face. But it was soon wiped away when you came back around the counter to give him his order, packed in a paper bag.

Silently, he gave you the money and you took it gratefully.

“Here’s your ch—” You didn’t have the time to give him back the change as he rushed out of the door just as he slid the paper bill.

“Thank you for dropping b—” and the door closed with the sound of the bell, his figure completely disappeared.

Thus was the pattern of your morning routine in the coffee shop. You wiped the tables and aligned the chairs when you finished mopping, and just right on time around 8.10AM he was back inside the café. Often you expected him to make small talk or even give you a small audible thank you, but he never did. You would quietly make his cup of coffee and pack the daily’s special in a paper bag for him to takeaway, then he paid you far too much from the actual total and rushed off like nothing ever happened. You weren’t complaining, but it was weird. You had your fair share of regulars coming in, often making small talk with you, even to the extent of complementing you at how well you remember their order and details despite you only working there for a few months. You smiled at them politely and went back to continue your work, closing the shop when you are done.

Walking down to the bus stop you often found yourself thinking about him and the generous tip he always left. Maybe that’s how he says thank you, you thought. You smiled a little remembering how surprised he always got when you prepared his order, it was as if you knew him personally.

But one morning, he didn’t show up.

You didn’t hear the bell chime when the clock hit 8.10AM, he didn’t come. You had his order made, the fresh batch of the daily’s special and his coffee; you waited. The clock hit 8.30AM and he still wasn’t there, did he run into traffic? You felt the paper bag getting wet due to the steam from the goods, now becoming cold. His coffee grew colder as each second passed, but you still waited. It was stupid for you to expect the appearance of a stranger, but to you he wasn’t just any stranger. He left you a bigger impression than any of your regulars, you didn’t know how to put it together. He had become a part of your routine, to the point it carried into your mind so deeply when he didn’t show up.

But he did come, late.

When the clock hit 8.55AM, the door harshly slammed open causing you to wince. He was there, panting like a wild man. His hair for once was a mess instead of the usual sleek slicked back style, blazer gripped in his hand, and his tie just hung lifelessly around his neck. You were stunned; by shock, confusion, but also happiness.

Just as you were preparing, you heard shuffling from behind the counter. You took a small peak and caught him fixing up his appearance. He moved gracefully; from the way his hands worked on the loose fabric around his neck, to him tucking in his shirt and putting on the blazer. And in no time, you saw him like how he always looked, neat and proper.

You slid the paper bag and coffee across the counter, giving the fresh order for him. He didn’t immediately pay, his eyes lingered on the untouched cup of coffee and damp paper bag at the counter behind you. You followed his gaze, cursing at yourself for not taking it to the back like you planned to.

“Sorry, that was uhm… your usual order.” You explained. His eyes turned towards you, looking at you with the most intimidating stare ever.

“Why?” He asked.

Your heart jolted at the sound of his voice. Was it possible to feel nervous yet enamored from someone’s tone? The way his word slipped from his lips; they were smooth but with a hint of seriousness at the end. You swallowed the lump in your throat, clearing it as you tried to speak again.

“Because…you always come as soon as the shop opens. And I thought you might have some important things to do at work? I didn’t want to waste your time.” You whispered out, but it was enough to be heard in the empty shop.

He smiled a little, looking at how pure you seemed. He had woken up late that morning due to him finishing a project for his company, causing him to sleep later than his usual 1am to a 4am. He woke up abruptly from his co-worker, demanding his whereabouts are. He mouthed a small fuck under his breath, noticing he was late for work and a meeting that was happening in half an hour. So, he dashed out like a madman.

The thing is, he was already late when he came into the café. He could’ve made it just in time to the company if he hadn’t made any random stops. But he did, at the café he goes to every morning. This time, it was no exception. He parked his car at the shop beside the café and went in. He winced when he looked at himself in the glass door, he looked like a mess instead of a CEO. But all the stress he had soon disappeared the moment he saw your figure jolting as the bell chimed, your eyes widening when you noticed it was him.

He smiled at your effort, liking the way how you still waited and prepared everything for him despite him being late. He couldn’t help but feel warm and soft inside and he let out a small smile. You stared at him in surprise, your mouth ajar as you heard the words coming out of his mouth. He checked the time on this Rolex and internally sighed, he was later than ever.

He quickly took his order in his hands and slid the money over the counter to you. But just as he was going to leave the shop, he gave you one last nod. This time with a smile on his face, seemingly in a good mood so suddenly.

“It’s Doyoung, by the way. Thank you.” He said, motioning towards the paper bag of pastries and coffee. Then he was out, leaving you more shocked than ever.

***

The last encounter of your so-called home during the fifth month of you worked in the café, around closing time. You were busy mopping and cleaning the empty space, ready to turn off the lights and lock the door, it wasn’t until you heard a light tap on the door that you halted all of you actions.

You spun slightly, not expecting any more customers as you had flipped the open sign to closed by then. But it wasn’t just anyone, it was Doyoung.

You looked at the clock, it was past 9 at night and you were more than confused as to what brought him here so suddenly. You walked towards the door and Doyoung pointed at the closed sign by it, seemingly asking you permission if he could come in. You weren’t supposed to let anyone in at that point, but he looked different that night. He looked drained, there wasn’t any light in his eyes. So, you unlocked the door for him.

He sat on the pick-up counter, not wanting to sabotage the chairs you had just lined up. You didn’t complain, fetching him a hot drink to ease his ongoing nerves. For once you saw Doyoung in distress; his hair a mess, shirt not buttoned properly, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie hung loosely on his neck. You placed the warm mug near him, which he took gratefully. He took a sip, and he felt the sweetness coating his taste buds. He let out a small groan as he pulled his lips away from the mug, examining the brown warm substance in it.

“Hot chocolate,” you said, smiling at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting at the mug in confusion. This was not his usual coffee; it was thicker, sweet, and had the aftertaste of bitterness. Oddly enough, he liked the change. He looked at you, catching your gaze full of wonder.

“I know you usually come here for coffee. But do you seriously expect that I’ll give you caffeine when it’s already nearing 10PM?” You asked him, a tint of sarcasm lacing your tone which caught him by surprise.

“It’s good.” he said curtly, causing you to smile wider.

“Right? This is one of my favorite drinks ever!” you exclaimed, now giggling like a child.

Doyoung continued to sip the warm drink. He could feel a tingling sensation all over his body due to the contrast of flavors of the drink. Doyoung wasn’t a big fan of sweet things, he cringed whenever he thought of having to inject extra amounts of sugar in his body. This, the hot chocolate you made for him, he had to admit it was amazing. It was sweet but thick, and once he took a small gulp down this throat, he could taste the bitter aftertaste that lingered around his mouth. He had thought, coming here wouldn’t do much for his stress due to his work. You proved him otherwise, and in return he received a sweet treat.

He watched you as you cleaned the remaining dishes, not even complaining you had to serve him so late at night when it was way past closing time. You could feel there was tension on his shoulders, weight in his eyes. It was hard for you to completely ignore him and lock him out at night. You turned around, looking at his figure sitting on the counter, his eyes locked on the mug which was now empty but still in his grip, not wanting to let it go.

You went closer to his side, slowly taking the mug from his grasp. That was enough to get him to snap back to reality, his hands flinching when he felt the small touch of your hand. You paused, afraid you might had triggered him, or hurt him. But the abrupt force he caused sent a shock wave down your nerves, causing both of you to lose grip of the white porcelain mug. It fell, following gravity before smashing onto the floor. The shards flew, spreading across the shop’s front area. There were a few remaining sips of hot chocolate which splattered onto the floor.

“I am so sorry!” You said, looking at Doyoung frantically as he stared at you, equally in shock. He shook his head a little, his eyes saddened as he felt like he was the one at fault, not you. Quickly you tried to collect all the shards, careful not to scratch your hands. Doyoung jumped down from the counter and knelt beside you to help, you tried to argue but he only gave you a stern look causing you to eat your words up.

It was silence for a few seconds, all you could hear was his breathing coming from right beside you. You sighed a little, there goes a little part of your paycheck.

“Do you always work here, morning to night?” He asked, his voice small, a little hesitant.

“Yea, I took the full shift.” You replied him, tossing the broken shards in a bin once you collected enough. Doyoung nodded in acknowledgement, finally noticing how often he saw you every time he passed the shop on his way home, catching your figure closing the shop and walking away from it.

“Do you like your work?” He asked again, a little more confidence in his tone now.

You smiled sadly in response. Doyoung caught how your eyes dimmed a little, not quite knowing what he had expecting when he asked the question.

“I do like it. But I feel like I can do better.” You said, whispering the words as you reached the end. That was enough to spark up his interest more. He looked at you, waiting for you to continue but you quietly stood your ground. You grabbed a mop, quickly mopping the liquid before it dried up and became a sticky mess. Doyoung didn’t do anything much but stand on the sideline, watching every action you were doing in a daze.

“My life has been about me moving from one place to another. I identified every place I stayed as my home; from my parents’ house that I grew up in, to my college dorm, and now I live in a rundown apartment where this café is my only source of income to continue living.” You said

“Is it enough?” He asked again, his tone softer than usual with a hint of sadness at the end.

You smiled and shook your head a little, letting him know that you are barely surviving.

“My degree didn’t help me much. I applied here and there in hopes I would be hired for at least one company of my choice, but I always got turned down.” That caught his attention.

“Why?” Doyoung took another step closer, catching how your figure jolted awake by the question. You didn’t face him, afraid you might break down while recalling the harsh words that had been spat at you during every interview. But Doyoung could see, he knew your struggle was almost the same as his.

“Because I wasn’t good enough.” Your voice cracked at the end.

Doyoung wanted to fight that argument, but he didn’t know if he was in the right position to judge those people for you. He rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you an awkward pat in hopes of comforting you. Doyoung looked at his own action in confusion; he wasn’t always the best at comforting people, but he tried. You willed yourself to stop crying and hurled around to face him, and that was the moment things started.

Doyoung didn’t know what went into his mind at that moment. But when he saw the look on your face, your cheeks wet from tears and eyes still glistening, he thought you looked ethereal. Doyoung’s breathing hitched, not fully understanding the odd feeling inside his stomach. Yet, he knew what he wanted. Without a second to waste, you were caught off guard once again by this unfamiliar stranger in front of you.

His lips found their way onto yours, fitting perfectly as they molded together. You couldn’t consider it a hot make-out, it was a simple heartwarming type of kiss. You felt him pull away, almost wanting to whine, immediately missing his warmth. Doyoung wasn’t done, he pulled you in once again straight after he took another breath. His hands wrapped around you, one gripping on your exposed skin on your waist and the other around the back of your head. You could feel his grip, it was strong but not enough to hurt you, his fingers tangled through your hair, desperately trying to pull you close. You gasped a little, and he found his entrance. You swore you felt like your head might explode, the whole feeling wasn’t entirely new to you, but it felt so surreal. You find yourself gripping on his shirt, balling it up in your fist, causing him to groan into the kiss. You could taste the remains of the chocolate, it tasted sweeter than usual. You could taste him, and you wanted more.

He pulled away once again, lids heavy as he stared at your face. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew you couldn’t read Doyoung, the man was too unpredictable for you to read. He dipped his head back down for another kiss, this time much softer and slower. You smiled into the kiss, feeling his own lips twitch to form a smile, but he resisted.

That night, Doyoung waited for you to get your things and he helped you close the shop. He took your stuff in his hand, using the other to open his car door for you to sit. During that late-night drive, with the light emitted from the traffic lights, you saw him smile softly.

“Did you call your boss?” he asked, tone almost a whisper. You nodded.

“Good, your shift starts tomorrow at 8.30AM. I want to see coffee and breakfast on my desk before I arrive, Y/N.” Doyoung demanded, without a single glint in his eyes. He was serious.

He didn’t let you wave him goodbye nor did he watch you get into your apartment; all he did was unbuckle your seat belt, rushing you to get out, and he drove away in full speed.

That night, he became the reason of your on-going journey, having to settle down in a new home.

***

You could say just like that, your whole journey to seek the perfect home stopped. You finally got what you wanted. Or so you thought, almost.

Doyoung was the one who helped you along the way. That one meeting was enough to send you into a spiral of unending expectations. Because of him you finally had a stable job working under his label. He helped you find a more decent place to settle down, now living like an actual normal human being. And he is the guy of every girl dreams, he is simply too good to be true.

But, Doyoung is a great liar.

You had no idea Doyoung held up a title in the company he worked in. He had told you that night that he was a simple worker in the Kim industries, always on the edge to finish up projects on the latest technology to be released for the government security. You thought it was impressive: a man so young given such a complex duty. He lied.

He wasn’t a normal worker he said, he was the goddamn CEO. And you learnt about his title the hard way.

When Doyoung told you that he wanted breakfast, you obliged. You brought the familiar paper bag containing some pastries and his usual cup of coffee. The problem you faced that early morning was to figure out which floor he worked on. But since you were new, you had to ask the lady at the front desk at the information counter.

“Can I ask which floor Doyoung works in?” You politely asked.

Her slender fingers stopped typing on the keyboard, her eyes traveling from the monitor up to your figure. She looked confused, you could tell by her furrowing eyebrows and small frown.

“Mr. Kim?” She asked back.

You blinked innocently at her, tilting your head to show your ongoing confusion.

“He uh…just told me to bring him breakfast.” You said dumbly, but that was enough to ring a bell on the woman’s head.

“Ah! I shall assume you are Mr. Kim’s new secretary.” She concluded.

The next thing she did was escort you towards the lift, press the highest level of the building, and gave you a wave of goodbye and a pleasant smile for good luck.

And she meant it when she signed good luck.

It had been 2 weeks since you started working for Doyoung, and you thought he was out to kill you. Every single morning after you delivered his breakfast, he asked about his schedules and meetings, then the human labor started. He would send you off running from one floor to another, demanding each department for files and documents, preparing the meeting rooms by copying each file in hard copy, to answering his unwanted calls from nosy companies who kept demanding either updates of his recent projects or just an invitation for a party.

It was nearing lunch break, and you thought your legs were about to give out. You slammed the glass door open, stumbling in to slap the file in your hand on his glass table. Doyoung looked up at you through his reading glasses before lowering his gaze down again to finish reading the spread before him.

“This is the copy you wanted, and the tech department said they are going to give you the whole proposal by 5pm the latest.” You huffed, letting out a sigh.

Doyoung smiled, nodding his head a little at your report.

“Too long, tell them to finish it by 4pm or I’m giving everyone extra shifts on the weekend.” He said casually, giving random commands as he pleased.

Doyoung had expected you to blow up or get irritated by his bossy behavior at the very least. But you did nothing aside from giving him a slight nod and mumbling a small, “Noted”

“C-Can I rest for a while?” You asked, whining at the end.

Doyoung looked up from his documents, a hand running up the side of his head to scratch it. His eyes stared at you lazily, but also with a hint of disinterest. You swallowed a lump, not fully knowing what to expect from your boss. Doyoung was always so emotionless, it was to the brink you could no longer understand his moods or behavior. You sighed, dragging yourself towards the door.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t stay here.” Your whole body jerked awake, not expecting him to speak. You turn around slowly, looking at him for confirmation or if he was only playing with you.

“Come here” he commanded. His tone was different from how he usually gave out orders or asked you to finish a task, it wasn’t the usual harsh strict tone; that was gone. He wasn’t showing his dominance or giving you his typical stern look that he gave his employees, reminding them who he was and why they were chosen to work in such a prestigious company.

No, it wasn’t. His tone was small, soft like he was singing a lullaby. He seemed like he was whispering, afraid if he hitched up another octave in his voice you would break. He looked at you, seemingly needy, wanting you. That was enough to pull you to his side.

His hands were gentle, very gentle. He caressed your exposed arm, sending a jolt of electricity through your system. Then, slowly, he pulled you down. His force was enough to cause you to tumble down, but not fall harshly on him. Doyoung positioned himself to make room for you to sit more comfortably on his lap. His arm easily circled around your waist, securing yourself so you wouldn’t fall. His other travelled up from your arm, to your shoulder, neck, finally resting upon your cheek. You shivered under his touch; it was as light as a feather. Doyoung smiled at the reaction, slowly pulling you down for a kiss.

Gentle, he was so very gentle. The kiss was light, feather-like kiss on your lips, but it was enough to show how passionate he was. You sighed in the kiss, thinking how his whole living being was too good to be true. This man, right in front of you was yours. Yours, completely yours.

When he pulled away, he gazed at you in adoration. Doyoung had expected you to break in a few days from the pressure of the job, but you did such an amazing job, far better than his past secretaries. He was a proud man, his heart bloomed at the sight of you so vulnerable and hypnotized under his touch. He loved it.

He remembered the first few times you entered his office, you were fuming with embarrassment. Hiding your face in your hands, you complained about him.

“You didn’t tell me you were the CEO of this freaking empire!” You groaned out.

“First of all, it’s an industry like the name says here.” he said calmly, tapping on the metal nameplate on his desk that read ‘Kim Doyoung’ as a title and ‘CEO of Kim Industry’.

“Tell me, what did you do?” he asked. You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel offended by his accusation or impressed by his assumption.

“Did you realize how embarrassed I was when I ran to each department demanding documents and designs, then being dumb and saying ‘Oh! And Doyoung wants this done by 3!’. They were looking at me like I was mad!” You grumbled.

“I did tell you I work in this company.” he said calmly.

“Yea! But you literally own this whole building! What are you? Real life playboy, asshole, billionaire Tony Stark?!” Your voice rose the more you ranted.

Doyoung only looked at you unamused, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Okay, maybe not an asshole.” You defended. But he was still not impressed.

“…or a playboy?” You stopped, hesitating at your own description of him.

“Are you a playboy?” You asked, this time serious with concern laced around your expression. That one sentence was enough to send him into unending laughter. One sincere pure laugh that rang around his office.

Doyoung always laughed whenever he thought about it, you were simply too pure.

He had hesitated to take you in knowing how harsh the industry could be, especially since everyone saw him as a competitor. It was true Doyoung started the whole company, but he was very young back then. No one acknowledged his capabilities or ideas when he first entered the business world, everyone saw him as a child. But Doyoung proved them wrong, because he knew his own capabilities. And he used it to his own advantage, starting small and with nothing but scraps, he continued building his father’s company, completely taking it over. That was when people began to notice him, not as a kid but as someone whom they should fear.

“Go back to work, Y/N. You need to remember this is a workplace.” He said, pushing you out of his lap coldly. You looked at him in shock by the sudden change of behavior.

Your eyes rested on his figure once again, lingering on him but he didn’t respond. You sighed, tired by his sudden push and pull behavior; it was going to take a toll on you sooner or later. You didn’t argue with him any further. You simply nodded, bid your goodbye, and left his office.

When he saw the glass-door close from the far corner of his eyes, he leaned back in his seat and sighed. I’m such a dick, the words lingered around his head, pounding against his skull.

He hated himself sometimes.

Having so much pressure at such a young age did take a toll on him. Doyoung had this mechanism of pushing people away from him, from the snobs who just came to him for business opportunities, females luring him for one night stands, it exposed him to how disgusting people could get once they locked targets to settle a business for their own benefits. It disgusted him to the core.

His problem regarding issues with peoples caused him to shut off from socializing further than a few close friends and business associates. Others he pushed away as if they were nothing. The whole self-defense mechanism to protect himself didn’t just cause him to push those he doesn’t trust away, but he also pushed away those who sincerely cared.

You were no exception.

Doyoung adored you, he loved you dearly. But he was still hesitant which frustrated you to no end. You tried to understand him. You knew that he was a very hardworking man, always so passionate and enthusiastic about his work, and you adored that side of him. You thought that was one thing that made him special.

You couldn’t blame much on him. Well you wanted to, especially since the affection and compliments Doyoung spared you were close to none. Or the fact that both of you never actually went out as a normal couple. You took it in, hoping that it would all be okay. Especially since his whole empire was slowly becoming a bigger part of your life, another home.

***

You had your first argument when you passed the 8 months milestone. The reason being Kim Doyoung.

You remembered that morning you rode up the elevator to his office, carrying his usual breakfast. But as the elevator door opened, you were welcomed by the sight of him in his usual neat style, wrapped up in his suit and a suitcase beside him.

Doyoung greeted you with a small nod, proceeding to type on his phone once again. You walked closer to him, wanting to peek at whatever he was doing, but he simply turned towards you and hid his phone in his pocket. He casually took his coffee and bit into his sandwich, humming in what you thought was approval.

“Are you going somewhere?” You asked him. Doyoung only nodded, still ravishing the food in the paper bag. You could only watch, not knowing how to push another on-going question that kept wandering into your mind.

Suddenly, the elevator door dinged open, catching your attention as Doyoung stayed unbothered. He sipped on his coffee, waiting for the newcomer to come over to his desk. You stared at the man in curiosity; he was as tall and lean as Doyoung, but his facial structure was much softer compared to Doyoung. He smiled widely at Doyoung, startling him by pulling him into a hug.

“Look at you! You��ve grown so much!” He said. Doyoung only nodded, giving him a small smile.

“Thank you again for coming to replace me whilst I’m gone, brother.” Doyoung replied.

“Don’t mention it, go kill those meetings! When you come back, I’m expecting an extravagant meal!” He said, making Doyoung chuckle a little.

Doyoung turned around and faced you, nodding curtly at you once again. He took his suitcase in his hand, pulling it closer to his body as he looked at you, eyes stern.

“I am off for a business meeting overseas for a few months, for the time being my brother is in chargs. Be sure to follow his orders and I expect no damages or flaws in this company whilst I am gone. Do you understand?” He interrogated, his tone pressed more firmly at the question, expecting you to answer him with a yes no matter what. You nodded, not trusting your voice if you tried to speak out.

“Good.” And he was off.

Your legs were rooted in place, scared that if you were to move an inch it might trigger a bomb in Doyoung’s mind. You let out a sigh when he disappeared. You gazed sadly at the missing male, not fully excited by his short goodbye. No kisses, no hugs, nothing.

Doyoung was still Doyoung.

“I’m Kim Gongmyung,” you snapped out of your daze, looking at the other figure present in the room.

“I’m Doyoung’s brother.”

You gaped at his statement. Doyoung had a brother? You were struck in awe. The more you looked over his features, you could see the similarities between him and Doyoung. You extended a hand for a handshake, but he only waved it off with a laugh.

“No need for such formalities, Y/N. I know you, Doyoung told me about you.” You didn’t know what got into your mind when he said that, Doyoung talked about you to his brother. Was it a sign for another step between you and him then? Or did he just tell his brother about your position in the company, merely there to serve?

“He did?” You asked.

“Well aside of mentioning he’s seeing someone, he did also say he took a new secretary in the company, which I shall assume either one is you. Congratulations, you are the only secretary who ever lasted this long with that short-tempered guy.” He remarked, tone filled with amusement.

He was very different from Doyoung. Doyoung was winter, always so cold and curt, never once showing any signs of softness, laughter or even smiles. His brother was the plain opposite; he was warm and welcoming, his face set in a permanent dazzling smile. You were very surprised and impressed by how different the two proved to be.

You sighed a little, a little part of you wanting Doyoung to be able to express himself rather than being the cold and strict boss everyone perceived him as.

Gongmyung had noticed your behavior, often looking down and sighing like a puppy being kicked. He thought back to a few weeks, how Doyoung had called him during the middle of the night. The younger had ordered him, or what Gongmyung would like to call his brother begging him to take over his company whilst he was gone. He knew Doyoung could only trust him as they grew up together, hence it wasn’t so hard for him to say yes. But the other reason for Doyoung to do this was also so there would be someone supervising you.

He had listened to Doyoung’s rants about his workplace, filled with people complaining about life and their work despite how they wanted it. But you were the one who never once let out a whine or a sigh about your work, causing Doyoung to favor you more than his other employees, regardless of your relationship. Doyoung was scared to leave you alone on his trip, he thought you might hinder him from his work. So, he asked his brother to keep his trip a secret.

Now, his brother was staring at you in amusement. You hadn’t shown any discontent with the lack of love and enthusiasm in your relationship with Doyoung; you simply accepted it.

Gongmyung had dauntlessly scolded Doyoung to not be so cold to you, to give you an exception since you were his lover. But Doyoung shrugged him off, mumbling ‘it’s not any of your business, shut up’. He wouldn’t try to argue with him, merely shaking his head in disapproval and clicking his tongue before giving him the same old speech:

“Don’t take her patience for granted, Doyoung. I can genuinely see how she really cares about you. Treat her, take her out on a date. She’s human too and she’s yours.” He would say as an opening but Doyoung always chose to ignore him.

“She’s different, Doyoung. Wait till you lose her, you will regret it.”

Those words had left Doyoung in a daze for a few days, thinking if the way he had treated you was considered fair. But the thought soon got thrown away, as he was a man dedicated to his work.

Each day went by slowly, and you hated how the time slowly slipped away.

Gongmyung was similarly strict, but not as strict as Doyoung. He would often give you tasks, orders but often leave you a question of ‘is it too much?’ which always caught you off-guard. You would often dismiss his question, quickly finishing the papers and passing them back to Gongmyung for a final check. You were proud to say that you probably left him a big impression of you.

But truly, that’s not what you wanted.

Your whole routine by then was obvious. Finishing copying files and paperwork, submitting it to Gongmyung as a final draft, and then checking your phone for any updates or replies from Doyoung. You did this for around two months, and you would shamelessly admit so far you had heard barely anything from Doyoung.

In a span of three months you came to learn his pattern of keeping in touch. He would text you approximately three times a day to ask about work: how was the company doing, and why were you always on your phone. Others such as phone calls or video calls were short and abrupt, with you calling him to check up on him and mostly being rejected with him replying ‘I am busy right now’ on text and leaving you unread for an entire day. But, if you were lucky, he would pick it up and let you talk about your day while he was fully immersed in his own world; doing his work, reading his book, or just typing madly on his laptop.

“It feels odd having to order people about my breakfast every morning, usually I have you to prepare it.” Doyoung mentioned during one of your calls. You perked up when he said that, thinking it was a way of him saying that he missed you or indicating that he did need you in his life.

“Do you miss me?” You asked him shyly. He didn’t answer.

“I’m getting used to the changes.” He finally replied, and that was a slap in your face kind of answer. You didn’t reply or continue the conversation, because you didn’t know how to.

In the end, when he noticed you weren’t talking or replying to him anymore, without a proper goodbye – he ended the call.

You didn’t know how things went downhill; the spark simply vanished.

You remembered crying over the phone, each word painful as you pulled them out of your throat. You were tired, exhausted because of him. It only started with one question, and it ended with both of you arguing.

“What am I to you?” You had asked him, examining his features through the grainy screen of your phone. You did miss him, a lot.

He paid no attention towards you, eyes glued on his papers in hand. Doyoung had noticed your change in behavior, suddenly becoming more confident and each question you threw at him becoming bolder. He glanced at his own screen, your eyes attached to his figure. You were waiting for his answer, like you always did.

“Don’t ask such nonsense right now, Y/N. Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” He quipped.

You didn’t say anything at first, but you were done. You didn’t get any updates about his work and when was he coming back, you knew nothing. Both of you never went out as a normal couple, he never even treated you like his girlfriend. You were confused, but mostly you were tired of being pulled in whenever he needed you only to be pushed away like nothing.

“You don’t care about me.” You mumbled out, but it was audible enough for him to hear through the speaker of his phone. He got irritated; it was a very prominent expression imprinted on his face.

“What are you talking about, I do care.” He said strictly.

“Since when? Where? You always leave me behind like a clueless child. You do nothing for me, Doyoung. You pull me into your bubble just for me to end up being pushed away like trash. Do you seriously think I’m dumb enough not to notice?” You fumed, voice raising in volume.

“I’ve tried everything, I try to understand you, to support you in your work and in your life. What have you ever done for me? It’s always been me who tolerates your ego and obsession with your work, yet I never get the same from you! You never regard me as your lover, there’s nothing for me to gain in this relationship!” Every single word you threw out burned your throat; it felt dry as your eyes glistened. You didn’t care if he was still listening, you were tired.

“I love you, Doyoung. I truly do— But I don’t think you feel the same way and I’m tired.” You whispered.

“Y/N…”

“You’re right, I should get back to work. I’m sorry to trouble you, Mr. Kim.” And like that, his screen turned black.

Doyoung groaned loudly, a hand running through his hair in frustration. Great, he did mess up. He sighed, knowing texting or calling you again wouldn’t be a good idea. Doyoung swore he could see Gongmyung judging him, shaking his head in disapproval.

“I told you so.” He would probably say to irk him, but at this rate could Doyoung even blame his actions?

“Kim Doyoung, you are such an asshole.” He sighed.

***

You ran away from the company. Well, took a few weeks leave.

You came in to Gongmyung’s office a mess, explaining your whole mental state wasn’t to continue working. Gongmyung , understanding what had happened, gave you a smile and a wave, ushering you out of the company with nothing in exchange.

“I’ll call my secretary in as a temporary replacement, come back when you feel better!” He had said as he waved you goodbye.

It had been 3 weeks since your whole argument with Doyoung and he still hadn’t contacted you. You stare at your phone in defeat, there was not a single call or text message from him. You gave up, it was officially over. At this rate you would have to move out again and try to hunt down other jobs available. You had thought to go back to working at the café you identified dearly as one of your homes, but in the end, you crossed it off your list. Knowing too well that if you worked there again, there was a bigger chance of you seeing Doyoung, and you didn’t want that.

You sighed, walking down the pavement with your groceries. You thought again, how long did you have left before your bank account dwindled down to nothing? You stared at your groceries with a saddened gaze, things were changing so quickly.

You unlocked the door of your apartment, putting the bag on your kitchen counter. You went into your room for a change before heading back downstairs to put away the newly bought goods. You were halfway done when you were interrupted by a sudden knock on the front door. You paused, was it your landlord? But you remembered you paid that month’s rent two days ago. The knock came again, this time more rapidly. You walked towards it, peeking out the peep hole to reveal the intruder. It was Doyoung.

You gasped loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth. Your heart drummed, not wanting to face him just yet, why was he back so suddenly? It was fine, he probably didn’t hear you. You could just act like you weren’t home and he would go away; everything would be okay.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N. Open up or I’ll kick this door open.” He ordered.

Your eyes widened in shocked. Did he just threaten you? No, he wouldn’t. And you knew for a fact Doyoung was not a man who solved his problems with violence, he wouldn’t knock your door down just for this.

Before you could think for too long, you heard a click on your door as it swung open. You stared at it in surprise, not expecting the wooden door to open up so easily. You stood rooted in your place, gaping at the sight as it revealed Doyoung standing at the end, his face unimpressed.

“Didn’t I tell you to never hide your spare key under the doormat?” He hissed out with a venomous tone. You scowled at his greeting, not fully enlightened to be welcomed back by his attitude.

“Why are you here?” You mumbled.

Doyoung stopped, his irritation pausing. Then, he let out a heavy sigh.

“To apologize,” He said simply. You scoffed at his answer and Doyoung knew all too well you were not in favor of him right now.

“No, really. I am here to say I’m sorry.” He insisted. You didn’t react, you stood there waiting for him to continue.

“Look Y/N, listen,” his voice was soft, pleading for you to not push him away. Doyoung stared at you with a broken gaze. For the first time you could sense his desperation, a part of him showing how much he longed for you to be back. When you still didn’t react, he took a few breathers and continued.

“I have this defense mechanism I’ve used since I started my company, and that is being an asshole to everyone. I don’t deal with people well and I trust only so little, I do not welcome people easily in my life. I kept living that way knowing how toxic and dark the whole business world could be, especially since I’m carrying my family’s name. People come, take a few things they want, and then they disappear.” He said.

“I wasn’t so sure when I first met you, but you made our first conversation so bloody memorable I just couldn’t help but go back!” He chuckled. That one chuckle was enough to let you know he was coming out of his own shell, slowly but surely.

“There wasn’t anything much for us to start with, just a simple exchange of breakfast and coffee and I was off. But that one night, when you let me in even so late after closing time was enough to tell me that I could trust you. Because no one who I ever encountered even would give me a glance if I walked in homeless in their doorsteps. I just couldn’t help it; I fell in love just like that.” He sighed a little. You smiled at his little confession, remembering how one mug of hot chocolate was enough to give you a home and a stable job, everything that you have ever wanted.

“I always seems like I don’t care and act like I barely give a shit, but I do. I care too much to the point I didn’t need you to send me in your resume, because I wanted you. I cared so much that I told my brother about you, my family, because I know I’m aiming to go further in this relationship with you. And now, I care so much that I still come back running to find you.” He said.

His face was flushed, you could see the visible streak of pink across his face. Doyoung tried to hide it with his hand, turning his face away, but it was too obvious he couldn’t do anything about it. He sighed.

“You still didn’t warn me about having that business trip of yours!” You exclaimed.

“Because I knew you would be worried! And give me some credit, I came back two months earlier than planned. Did you know how much work I crammed in these three weeks to get an early leave?” He shot back.

You smiled a little at his effort, slowly understanding where you stood in this relationship with him.

“Still doesn’t give you an excuse to abandon me for work all the time.” You sulked. This time, Doyoung smiled.

“Because I’m planning to buy a house, a proper house for you and me.” He said.

“W-What?”

“I want you to move in with me, Y/N.” he softly said, every single raw emotion he put in that one sentence.

“M-Move in?” You gaped at him.

“You always talk about wanting to have a proper place you can settle down, a place you can finally claim as your home. I thought long about it and I’m sure on my decision. I am serious right now; I want you to move in with me. I want you to be mine.” You shivered at his words.

Doyoung took a few steps into the house, closing the gap between the two of you. Then he pulled you into his embrace. It didn’t take you too long to feel his warmth, but it wasn’t his warmth that you longed for. You longed for his familiarity around you. You missed him in general, all aspects. His glares and short-tempered mind, his orders and demanding tones, his laughter and smiles. You longed for his scent of strong musk and coffee, to be wrapped around his arms and pampered by his love. You wanted him to make you feel special, to be his.

“I want to be a part of that home of yours, Y/N.” He whispered; lids heavy as his head dipped down towards yours. Soon you felt his lips on yours, the butterflies and rapid heartbeats. You missed him.

You had always associated home to be a place you stayed, a place you could call your small bubble. But as you grew older, you slowly realized that a home could also be a person. You understood from that day, anywhere you went could be called home as long as it was with someone you loved.

That’s what home truly was, him. He was your home.

When he pulled away, he looked at you with the softest gaze he ever laid upon anyone. It didn’t take him long to pull down for another kiss, this time more desperate. You could feel his both breath against your cheeks, your skin. You thought you had reached cloud-nine. He pulled away ever so slightly, lips brushing against yours. He rested his eyes around your face, feeling himself grow warmer at the sight of you so vulnerable under his touch.

“You have no idea what you are capable of doing to me, Y/N. You are mine.” He took you in once again, this time showing you what it meant to fully become his.

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enderham · 6 years ago

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Todoroki teaching Midoriya how to ice skate!

This ran away from me and got way too long, like, wow, 3k words. You hit the nail on the head anon, this one's a beast.

Check it out on Ao3 and enjoy below!

Izuku is pretty sure he's never seen Todoroki this excited. Granted, all it really is is a small, soft smile and a slight bounce in his step, but still! It's the happiest Izuku has probably ever seen him. It was weird. Nice, but weird.

Actually, this whole situation is weird.

Shouto had come up to him a day or two ago and asked him if he wanted to go for a walk around campus, claiming he had something to show him. Izuku of course agreed, jumping at the chance to spend time alone with Todoroki, especially when it was freely offered. What threw him for a loop, however, was the duffel bag Shouto was sporting when they met up, and still is now that they're quite a ways away from the dorms.

Now, if this was Kacchan doing this, Izuku would be wary as hell, but because it’s Todoroki, it’s alright, right? Even though objectively, he'd learned that Todoroki was very much capable of deviousness. Like the time he threw Mineta out of the changing rooms in just his underwear for being more pervy and annoying than usual, and then suggested burning his clothes and hero costume. But anyway.

They amble the paved roads of the grounds for a while, idly chatting about the week's events and homework assignments, but then turn on to one of the many trails that wind the more heavily forested areas of campus. Todoroki gently stees where they are going by bumping into Izuku or nodding his head before making a turn, all the while not breaking the flow of conversation, and Izuku stays close to his left side, hoping he would get the hint and activate his quirk to warm him a bit. Which Shouto does.

Entering the forest grants a whole new meaning to winter on campus. Izuku had gone jogging on the trails in the warmer seasons but abandoned it for indoor exercise during the frigid months for obvious reasons, so he isn't familiar with the wonder that is frosted over tree bark and sparkling crystals in the rare patches that the sun reaches. The canopy of trees is thick enough to let light in only selectively even with all their leaves gone, and the snowfall hadn't been heavy yet that year, but it was enough to cover everything in a delicate layer of white. Shouto obviously wasn't ignorant to it like Izuku had been up until now, judging by his pleased expression as opposed to Izuku's amazed one.

The conversation had died down when Izuku's attention strayed to the scenery, but it doesn’t seem to bother Todoroki, since every time Izuku glances at him he’s looking at him with a soft smile. At some point Izuku is so distracted that Todoroki has to steer him by the elbow in the right direction and he blushes, apologising several times before Shouto cuts him off good-naturedly.

"That was the last turn, we're almost there, promise." He says with a chuckle.

Izuku can’t help but smile. Looking at Shouto now, he can barely recognise the guarded, socially awkward boy from the first sports festival. He does still have his moments, and new small oddities keep popping up in his behaviour and cultural awareness, after all, he does have years of socialisation to catch up on, but he had come a long way. And he’s most comfortable with Izuku, if Deku is bold enough to say so.

He is so deep in thought that the only indication he gets that there’s a change of scenery is how much brighter it suddenly gets. When he looks up, he finds that they've arrived in a large clearing. So large, in fact, that he'd be inclined to call it a field if most of it wasn't taken up by an impressively sized pond. There are a few benches around it and a small dock, and it’s obviously well groomed, the greenery around it strategically placed, now frosted over and pale.

Izuku looks over at Shouto with wide eyes. "I had no idea this was here! Was this what you wanted to show me?"

The question seems redundant, since it obviously is, but Todoroki purses his lips in an obvious effort to hide a smile, which tipps Izuku off that he isn't quite right.

"Not all of it."

Izuku gives him a quizzical look, and in response Todoroki just motions for him to follow, heading for the dock. Once there, he kneels down by the edge and reaches his right hand down towards the water. The moment his hand gets close to the surface, it starts frosting over, once there’s a big enough patch of ice, he touches all five fingers to it, and the water freezes over almost instantly and completely evenly. The surface of the lake remains smooth as there is no wind, and the resulting ice is mirror-like. Izuku watches him work in awe as Todoroki adds an extra layer, equally smooth, and looks up at him.

"Do you know how to ice skate?"

Izuku sputters. "I- You- I mean- Um, no."

"Hm." Todoroki seems to consider that for a moment, "Would you like me to teach you, then?"

That is an offer and a half and all the ways it could go horribly wrong and perfectly right go through Izuku's head at once. "But we don't have-" his eyes snag on the duffel. "Wait, is this why you asked what my shoe size is last week?"

"There you go, knew you'd figure it out."

"All the Frozen jokes make even more sense now." Izuku says faintly. Shouto snorts.

"Jirou and Denki made me watch it after that." He comments lightly, standing up, "So is that a yes? Momo made the skates for you."

It's not even a question at this point. Izuku looks into Shouto's hopeful eyes and nods almost without thinking. The other grins.

They make their way over to the bench on the other side of the dock and wipe it clear of snow, and then Izuku is handed a pair of professional-looking skates with green laces. There's a lot of laces.

By the time Shouto is done lacing his, Izuku has barely finished one. The taller boy looks over at him and clicks his tongue. "Wait, no, you have to lace it tighter, otherwise it won't hold well."

Izuku flushes lightly, "Oh, sorry…"

"No, no, it's my fault for not telling you." He gets up nimbly and goes to kneel in front of Izuku. "Here, let me."

If possible, Izuku goes even redder.

Shouto catches his foot between his knees and starts methodically unlacing the skate. Izuku desperately fishes for something to say to distract himself. "So, how did you learn to ice skate?" He finally settles on.

Shouto smiles softly down at his hands. "My mom," he says, "when she was still at home, she would freeze over the courtyard when Endeavor was off on a business trip. Even the staff would join in sometimes, it was one of the few activities that got the whole house on their feet. After the- um, after." Izuku frowns, knowing full well what he’s referring to, "I tried to convince Endeavor to let me practice skating for years as a form of training. Eventually he caved and rented a whole rink, but he kept being asked to douse his flames because it was melting the ice, so he threw a fit and left me to my own devices for the next few years, since that's how long he'd rented it for."

"Sounds like a symptom of an inferiority complex if you ask me." Izuku mutters. Shouto looks up at him with amusement, then snorts and shakes his head.

"You have no idea."

"Have you met Kacchan?"

This inspires an actual laugh and it's all Izuku can do not to pump his fist in victory. Shouto finishes lacing his other skate, still chuckling, and then stands up. "Alright, give me your hands." Izuku isn't one to pass up an offer like that, and he soon realizes why it was presented in the first place. As soon as he's pulled to his feet, he wobbles on the thin blades. "Watch it." Shouto warns him with a smile while Izuku finds his footing.

Once he's sure he can stand, Shouto regrettably lets him go, but keeps his hands ready to catch him. "Okay, now widen your stance and give them a test, they should hold your ankles secure, we both know you especially need those." He says with a smirk and he shows Izuku how to test out the skates. Izuku gives a small laugh and follows his instructions, bouncing a bit once he's angled his feet to try out the support of the skates. He wobbles a bit again, which earns him a firm grip on his biceps before he has the opportunity to tip over, but the skates seem to hold well, so he nods at Shouto with a smile. He files away the information about falling for later.

"C'mon then." Shouto keeps a hold of his forearms and walks backwards, keeping his grip light so Izuku doesn't lean on him too much. Izuku understands the sentiment and tries to maintain balance on his own, knowing that it's a preliminary test before the ice. When they make it there, Shouto lets him go and motions for him to wait. He steps onto the ice and then he's off like a shot. Izuku watches in awe as his friend starts moving before his second skate even touches the surface, making wide turns to gain speed and kicking up dust clouds of broken ice when he makes sharp ones. Shouto zigzags across the pond, covering as much of the available space in as little time as possible. This time turns out to be around ten seconds, not that Izuku was counting.

"Showoff." He teases when Shouto comes to a literally screeching halt in front of him. The other boy mumbles something about testing the ice, but his cheeks are red and and he isn't looking at Izuku. He can't help but grin. "It worked, I'm very impressed." This prompts Todoroki to turn even redder, but at least he's looking at him now, so Izuku gives him an encouraging smile.

Instead of replying, Todoroki offers both hands to help him onto the ice. Turns out it's with good reason, because the moment he steps on, Izuku starts sliding all over the place. He forgoes the hands entirely and grips onto Shouto's shoulders, hoping that it'll grant more purchase. Thankfully it does, for all the embarrassment it grants, as Shouto laughs and grabs his waist to steady him.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry," Izuku babbles, trying to find his balance as quickly as possible.

"Don't worry about it." Shouto moves his hands to the smaller boy's elbows, still chuckling. "Looks like I haven't broken in the ice as well as I thought."

"Broken in…? You mean it shouldn't be perfect?"

"A little traction is good for beginners."

"But couldn't you have- with your quirk… I was right! You're such a showoff!" Izuku accuses.

Shouto's mouth tics up in a crooked little smile. This close up, Izuku isn't sure his heart is going to survive if this keeps happening, and going by his previous experiences, it will. Frequently.

"I've also kind of missed skating, so this was my cheat before I commit to being your crutch." He amends. Izuku immediately feels guilty.

"Oh! You shouldn't sacrifice that on my account! I can wait a bit longer it you-"

"Midoriya. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't want to." Shouto interrupts him, "Truthfully I sort of guessed there was a strong possibility you wouldn't know how to skate. And I still brought you along. So don't worry about it."

"Oh." Izuku doesn't really know how to reply to that. The implications are… Numerous. Thankfully Shouto isn't one to judge and so he gets away with a shy nod. Or so he thinks.

"Alright, Bambi, you ready?"

Izuku really should have expected to get at least a little bit of ribbing.

So, he accepts it graciously, with a snort, a nod, and a determined look in his eye. Todoroki takes that and runs with it. "Okay, so balance and legwork are important, obviously, so you shouldn't have trouble adjusting." He chuckles, "First you need to lower your center of gravity, not too much, but give me something like a relaxed fighting stance."

Izuku does as he's told, redistributing his weight and instantly feeling better about his balance. Shouto nods proudly and slides his hands from Izuku's elbows to his palms, taking them in a firm grip. "Now try to push off. You've seen me do it, I'm sure you can figure it out on your own. It's just physics." Izuku is always up for a challenge, thanks Kacchan, so he looks down and puts one skate perpendicular to the other. This doesn't exactly work, since he would have to change his stance, so he corrects the angle and tries to push off.

Todoroki starts slowly skating backwards, humming encouragingly and then immediately catching Izuku when he stays on one leg too long and loses his balance. "Alright, switch legs faster, got it." He says over Shouto's low chuckles.

"Mhmm, you're doing great though." Is the encouragement he gets.

They continue on like this for a while, in silence and concentration, with the occasional mutter and gentle comment. Soon, Izuku finds his rhythm and Shouto smoothly switches from skating backwards to moving by Izuku's side, still holding him by one hand. Izuku thinks he must look pretty stupid, what with the stilted movement and intence concentration, but whenever he chances a peek at Shouto, the taller boy never fails to smile softly at him.

Just when he's starting to get the hang of it, and thus starts getting bored, Shouto lets go of his hand. "Hey! Where're you-" Izuku looks up at him to see the other boy pivot to start scaring backwards again with a smirk. He hasn't been using Shouto's hand for balance for a while now, so it's not dire, but he still feels less than secure now that his safety net is gone. He sends the boy skating in front of him a pleading look, but is met with the coldness that most others mistakenly see as Shouto’s only mode of operation.

"You should learn how to fall too." Todoroki says with a crooked smile, "Try to catch me."

Again with the challenging, Izuku sees his game. Regardless, he puts on a little cautious speed, and goes after his friend. He tries to reach out, but has to catch his balance and realises leaning forward isn't a good idea, so he focuses on testing out his range of movement before actually givon chase. Shouto keeps just outside of arm's reach, making sharp little turns every time Izuku tries to reach for him, increasing his speed every time he thinks his shorter friend has gotten comfortable enough for it. His hands are behind his back, his posture relaxed. It's getting annoying.

"When you fall," he says and then infuriatingly dodges another swipe, "don't try to regain your footing. It'll only make things worse."

"When, not if?" Izuku growls and reaches for him again, Shouto dodges again with a laugh.

"Don't think you won't fall, that's arrogant and incorrect. Falling actually helps you relax on the ice." Another dodge, another frustrated sound from Izuku. "Anyway try not to lock your elbows when you hit the ice, or put strain on your wrists, but I'm sure you already know that. Not like you have far to fall anywa- eep!"

Izuku yells in victory, having taken a gamble by observing Shouto's movements and turns but not trying them out in order to catch him off guard and succeeding, but his yell soon turns into a shriek as they both go down. His mistake is immediately apparent. Shouto loses his footing in his shock and latches onto the sleeve of Izuku's outstretched hand, and Izuku's increased momentum and already compromised balance sends them to the ground on top of eachother.

When Izuku opens his eyes, he realizes that he's practically completely on top of Shouto. Somehow, in the tumble of limbs, he had latched onto Shouto's jacket, and the other had in turn grabbed one of his sides and used his other hand to brace for the impact. They blink at each other in shock, wide green eyes looking down into almost equally big mismatched ones. But before Izuku can open his mouth and begin apologising, Shouto lets his head fall back against the ice and bursts out laughing. This in turn sets Izuku off as well, the ridiculousness of the situation catching up on them, and so they lay there, tangled up on the cold ice, wheezing for air.

"See," Shouto says after a while, setting a hand on Izuku's bowed head, interrupting himself with what can only be defined as a giggle, "you did fall!" This sets them off again, and it's a while yet before Izuku speaks up.

"At least I took you down with me!" He says as indignantly as he can while breathing like he'd just run a marathon. It's very tempting to keep is face pressed to Shouto's chest, but he needs to breathe, and rather wants to look at Shouto right now. When he lifts his head, the other boy goes up with him, leaning on his elbow on the ice, and to his surprise, the hand on the back of his head doesn't go away. More like it slides down towards his neck just a bit.

Izuku freezes, in more than one sense, and stares at Shouto, who stares back. Their noses are almost touching.

The forest around them has seemingly gone even more quiet than before.

Then, Izuku blurts out,

"Can I kiss you?"

Shouto's eyebrows almost reach his hairline from the apparent shock of the request and it's a good thing he hadn't gone as far as to pull back because Izuku would have seriously been offended. Then he goes beet-red and looks to the side, cursing.

"Damnit, you beat me to it." He says quietly, but with feeling.

Now it's Izuku's turn to raise his eyebrows, but it's short lived as he soon dissolves into peals of laughter and collapses back onto Shouto's shoulder.

"D-does everything really have to be -aahaha -a competition?" He stutters out between gasps.

He feels more than hears Shouto huff -and isn't that a thought -and start to chuckle himself. "Yes, it does, Izuku-" he says with great conviction, pretending to grunt as he hoists himself up and hauls Izuku to the side in order to switch their positions, "- competition is healthy."

"In small doses!" Izuku protests to the boy on top of him, but the impact is diminished by his continued giggles. Shouto is smirking down at him and Izuku knows just how to turn the tide on him. "So you're calling me Izuku now?"

Shouto's smile turns soft all of a sudden and he leans in a bit, locking eyes with the boy underneath him. "Mhm," he hums, then tacks on, "may I?"

Izuku isn't sure if that last bit was directed at the name or something entirely different, but his answer is still the same.

"Yeah," he confirms using the moment to lay a hand on Shouto's cheek and rub his thumb along the edge of his scar, "as long as I can call you Shouto."

"Deal." Is the last thing Shouto says, before he leans in, guided by Izuku's hand, to kiss him for real this time.

Izuku leans into it, wrapping his arms around Shouto’s neck and almost forgetting he’s laying on the frigid ice in the process. However, there’s something niggling at the back of his mind.

“Did you plan all this? Was this a date from the beginning?” he asks, pulling back and savoring the way Shouto tries to follow him.

Shouto has the decency to blush. “Well, kind of. I wasn’t exactly expecting to end up making out with you on the ice though.”

“Oh, about that,” Izuku says lightly and then kicks One for All into Full Cowl for a moment in order to quickly flip their positions, “I was cold.”

Shouto takes a moment to catch up with what just happened and then covers his face with both hands. “Oh god I can see this turning into a trend.” he groans, “If you keep doing that, you’re going to give me whiplash one day.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, but you’re blushing.” Izuku notes delightedly, leaning in. “Are you gonna warm me up, Sho?”

He is rewarded with a very warm hand cupping his cheek and then slowly sliding under his scarf. “Better?” Shouto asks softly.

“Much.” Izuku answers, and then kisses him again.

Prompt me some more, I need the brain exercise!!

#bnha #tododeku #shoto todoroki #izuku midoriya #deku #mha #my hero akademia #my hero aca #boku no hero academia #todoroki x midoriya #fic #prompt #writing #ask

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