#I mean we were kids and neither of us had long attention spans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavishedinjimin · 4 years

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Hickeys 101 -> dilf!jjk

— synopsis: After Jungkook catches you messing around with another boy, he was determined to teach you a lesson you'll only learn from a father... well, step-father.

↳ pairing: dilf jungkook x f.reader

↳ genre: smut/angst

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 8.6k

↳ warnings: step-dad jungkook, AGE GAP, all characters are in legal age, D/S, daddy kink, condescension, degradation, they’re both toxic and mean, mind manipulation, Jungkook puts OC in subspace, face fucking, spitting, usage of a belt, unprotected sex (ya’ll know the drill already!), little aftercare

A/N: this fic is not suitable for all audiences. If you are easily offended and are sensitive to the warnings stated above, this might not be for you. reminder that the events in this story are purely made up and fictional.

Living with no one else other than your profoundly distant stepdad during lockdown – where you can’t escape, where you can’t go anywhere – is much harder than this zoom class you’re attending.

“I'm so exhausted,” you mutter beneath your breath, rolling your eyes to the back of your head for your brain hurts from your Econ professor’s infuriating voice.

Most of the time you are shuffling endlessly from how uncomfortable the wooden chair in this dining area is. With your laptop placed in front of you, the blue light surely ruining your eyes, you tirelessly listen to the lecture as much as your brain could wield.

But your attention span isn't as great as most people.

Completely losing your focus on the class after two minutes, you turn your attention to your stepdad working his way to the kitchen.

“Can you put a goddamn shirt on?” you huff, a tinge of irritation in your voice.

He passes by you with a swift glance.

“How are you doing?” Jungkook asks, utterly ignoring your complaint.

“Since when did you care?” You place your chin on top of your palm, stopping your urges to not look at his exposed torso. His sleeve of tattoos was undeniably eye-catching, but you were too petty to go a have a normal conversation with him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was used to your sharp tongue. He knew you didn’t like him ever since he started to date your mom. But now that he was technically your parent, he has all the right to correct you and put you in your place.

“You know I don’t like that tone, missy.” Jungkook stretches out his words, sounding stern. But you just sarcastically laugh him off.

As your stepdad was making some food in the kitchen, the class grew longer and more monotonous than ever. You were never the type to pay attention in class, and neither did it help that the school decided to move to online learning. Now you’re truly failing school.

“Jung—dad,” you sigh, realizing that his exposed back can almost be seen on your front camera’s screen, “can you scoot back a little? They can see you on-cam.”

“Nope.”

Jungkook chuckles at the way you grunt as he continues to make his avocado toast.

“Oh come on—” Jungkook teasingly shows the rest of his behind to the camera, not caring at all that your professor and classmates can see. “Give them a little show.”

“No!” immediately, you close your camera before swiftly turning your head to his direction, “Can you just stop? Okay? I’m trying to pay attention and you’re not helping!” You yell, banging your fist on the wooden table.

“I’m so tired, dad. Can you just go away?!”

He replies with his back still facing you, “Maybe if you asked a little nicer than that, little girl.”

With a complete shock to the words he used, you found yourself blushing in red while your eyes slowly expand. Your body's reaction from that single sentence was intoxicating. Your class was now forgotten and your professor's voice became white noise.

“W-What did you just call me?” You didn’t expect your tone to be as soft as it seemed.

Jungkook finally flips around to face you. He scans you, taking a good look at you as he crosses his arms together.

You couldn't dismiss that the way he looked at you made you feel something. Something that you’ve never experienced before.

“I called you little girl. That’s what you are, right?” he sneers, “A little girl who thinks she can talk to her father so impolitely.”

It was like a cat got your tongue. You flutter your eyes, trying to think of what to reply.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, “Tsk. See, you're rubbish in talking, Y/n. Once I start to put you in your place, you can no longer put on that bratty act on me.” He suddenly starts to walk over to you, putting you in a frenzy. You sit up straight, pursing your lips as you can't seem to breathe normally.

You cannot believe what was happening. Your mind starts to wander off from reality, trying to figure out what he is trying to tell you. Why did his voice change the way it did? As he walks closer, you can feel the warmth of his body enveloping yours. It was a situation that you wanted to run away from, but at the same time, you craved.

With your back to him, he places his hands to rest on the table in front of you. He traps you in your place, not letting you escape. Your breath hitch unexpectedly as he leans his face closer to yours.

“Jungkook… go away f-from me.” A trail of curses echoes in your mind, for you wanted to sound intimidating and not like a little kid.

Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, “Then push me away, little girl.”

Everything in your system freezes. As if you just had been tasered, you feel electricity shooting throughout your body. Jungkook adores your reaction. He’s older than you, he knows more than you; and he knows just how to make a woman as you melt beneath his palms.

“Silent now, aren’t we?” he teases with a velvety voice, inching his face even closer to the curve of your neck. Strands of his hair tickle your neck as hot breath blows against your skin, causing shivers down your spine.

He hears a little whimper from you, making the grin on his face growing wider. “Be. A. Good. Girl. For. Me,” he says through an award-winning smirk.

But – of course – you will not let yourself lose.

“No.”

“No?” he stares at you, baffled.

“Never in a million years,” a bitter grin appears on your face.

Jungkook leans back and away from you. He was a hundred percent sure that he’s got you under his spell, but your reply got his mouth dry.

“Yeah?” So, he’s resulting in Plan B.

A hands-on experience.

Slowly and delicately, he lifts his tattooed-covered hand and wraps it around your neck. “Mhmm, there we go,” he coos after hearing another sudden whimper, “Remember who you're talking to, little girl, got it?”

Your palms start to get sweaty as you try your hardest not to moan. Jungkook grips your jugular tighter, making you hitch a breath. You can hear him grunt under his breath, knowing for a fact that this was turning him on as well.

“Who are you talking to, huh?” he starts to get aggressive as he presses his lips right against the shell of your ear. “Tell me, little girl. Remind yourself who’s in charge. C’mon, can’t speak now, baby?”

Baby.

Your eyes automatically close at that, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “Daddy.”

“Mhm, good girl—”

“Daddy,” you whine, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, y-you’re in control.”

‘Finally’, Jungkook thinks to himself with a large cocky grin on his face. He finally got you to submit.

“Someone’s not as tough as they seem… I think I need to punish you for being such a fucking brat. What do you say?”

The way he said those words right against your ear instantly made your panties wet. It was humiliating that you got turned on by your stepdad, but at the same time, it was hot.

“Little girl… tsk, I need you to answer with your words and not with a desperate whimper.”

He releases the grip he has on your throat and instead, elevates his hand so that his fingers can rub against your scalp. A tingling sensation runs through your backbone as he massages your scalp, feeling so overwhelmingly good that made you lean back against his hand, yearning for more.

“Punish me,” you say in an almost audible whisper. “Do what you want, I don’t care. Please, please, please…”

Jungkook takes a good look at you; your cheeks flushed, eyelids closed and your mouth slightly parted. It looks like you were enjoying this a lot – too much to be exact.

The feeling was something else, something foreign that you honestly craved for such a long time. You and Jungkook had were never close, and you’ve never thought of him as a real father figure. After such a long time of not having a man to run the family, you didn’t know how to act around one.

Within a second of realization that you were loving this too much, he removes his hand from you and walks away without saying anything else. You feel like you just got heartbroken.

“W-What… why did you?” you stutter through a long exhale. Your eyes begged for him to come back, damn it – you were ready for him!

As Jungkook walks away from the kitchen with his bare, muscular back facing you, he says a final time, “Take your studies seriously, Y/n. I don’t want you failing any subject.”

You feel your shoulders slump down and your mouth purses into a straight line. You just got edged by your stepdad.

Staying silent was, you thought, the right thing to do at the moment. You insatiably did not trust your voice, and there was nothing to say to him without embarrassing yourself.

You glance at the clock on the wall just beside the refrigerator. As your classes were done for the day, and you have the rest of the afternoon all to yourself. Despite all of the unfinished homework that you currently have piled in your calendar, you still choose to watch a movie on Netflix and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

And, of course, all this just to distract yourself from the bizarre shit that happened between you and your step-dad, and to divert your attention on something else other than how sexy he is.

“Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going this late?” Your dad stops you from stepping outside the door, grabbing you by the arm. You close your eyes for a brief moment, inhaling some air to let your senses calm down. The door was already opened, and all you had to do was to get out a little faster, and he wouldn’t have caught you.

Perhaps trying to sneak out of the house was harder than you thought.

Jungkook spins you around and makes you look at his dark eyes despite the dim lights of the entryway. He wears black checkered pajama pants and a white tank top, hair all messy as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep.

“It’s ten o’clock, and you’re supposed to be in bed,” he warns you with a strict tone.

Snatching your arm away from him, you reply with gritted teeth, “I’m going out with a friend.”

“Friend?” he scoffs, “I wasn’t born last night, Y/n. Where is he?”

“He?” You slowly back away, taking tiny little steps closer to the door, “What do you mean ‘he’? I’m not going out with any guy, dad.”

Jungkook rests his hips on one leg and eyes you up and down. Based on what you were wearing and the makeup that you have on, you looked like you’re about to give some boy the time of his life.

“I’m not going to do anything I’d regret, I promise,” you whisper as quiet as the night sky behind you. “I’ll be good, daddy.”

That was all it took for Jungkook to stop his tracks. You knew what you just did to him. The way how we reacted, how he froze immediately at his place, was the same reaction you had earlier this day when he did all those dirty things to you. Now he was in your shoes.

As Jungkook looked like a dear in headlights, that was the time where you rushed off into the middle of the streets where Yeonjun’s car is hesitantly parked.

“Quick, quick, quick!” you half-whispered, half-shouted as you closed the passenger’s door. Yeonjun laughs loudly while setting the gear up, preparing the car for a long, speedy ride.

You look back and see Jungkook standing outside the porch, watching in awe as the car drives away from him. There was nothing funnier than seeing his stunned expression, for he couldn't do anything about your mischief anymore.

“Is he angry?” Yeonjun asks, still giggling in his seat.

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to leave,” You swing the seatbelt across your torso, securing it in the buckle.

Yeonjun passes you a drink he bought for you from McDonald’s in which you gladly receive with thanks. “What’s this?” you ask before taking a sip.

“Iced coffee. We’re out here for a long, long night, Y/n. See, I have one for myself!” he exclaims as he points to his drink sitting on the cupholder.

Yeonjun pulls down the windows so that you two can get a feel of the cold, fresh air of the starry night. Strands of hair would so often get caught in between your lips, distracting you from the relaxing scenario.

Lifting your elbow to rest on the window frame, you ask him, “Are you sure this drive-in cinema is open this late at night?”

“Of course, they’re open 24/7.” Yeonjun takes a quick look at you before returning his focus on the road. He smirks slightly, “We’re gonna have so much fun, Y/n. You won’t regret it.”

You’ve already entered high-school when Jungkook met you. His first impressions of you were bashful and conservative, only showing your true nature around your friends. He thought you were such a warmhearted kid. He was only dating your mother at the time.

But you’ve never really felt that he was a part of the family. His aura was never the nurturing ‘dad’ type, but rather, the ‘cool uncle’. He was never accustomed to kids, he’s the youngest of his siblings, so it was astounding that he’d ever married someone with a hormonal teen.

Thus, as you’ve grown older, he’s slowly seeing your real side. Inch by inch, you're letting him see your colors and how you behave. A snappy and confident girl you are. You always have an opinion on things and you despise it when somebody gets in your way.

That’s how your mother raised you. She taught you how to stand up for yourself and how to make yourself known, even though you sometimes overstep people’s boundaries.

Your mom was out of town for a trip with her office friends. She just landed a new job at the local government unit, and she was invited to their annual orientation. Which, if you were in her shoes, wouldn’t go to. But thankfully without her strict guidance, you can do whatever you want.

Just say the magic words to your stepdad, and he’ll be putty in your hands.

Consequently, Jungkook won't admit that he doesn’t like your attitude you put on him. He cares for you, he does. But if there’s ever a situation that you cross his limits, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish you and make it known that in the end, he’s older and you need to obey him.

Scared was a downright understatement. No matter how much you try to be brave and face whatever your stepdad might do to you as a penalty for ‘misbehaving’, you couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat.

It was two in the morning, and your eyes are bloodshot red from almost having no sleep at all, besides the little nap you and Yeonjun took after watching a series of old movies in the drive-in cinema. You were wearing his sweater that he gave to you to keep you warm.

“Thank you for tonight, Yeonjun,” you lean into the window frame, resting your arms on it. The yellow-haired boy smiles at you, his eyes wandering around your face as if memorizing every pattern of your features. He takes a final look at your bruised, swollen lips and hickey-covered neck before orienting his torso close to you. His face was an inch away from yours before he kisses you goodbye.

“Try not to get caught,” he whispers against your lips with a cheeky grin.

“You said that before, and I got caught,” you shrug while tilting your head to the side, “Say something else.”

Yeonjun scrunches his nose. He uses his right hand to pinch your cheek endearingly, “Alright, then. How about… good luck with your stepdad.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you release an exasperated sigh while closing your eyes. The two of you result in laughter, before giving him his goodbye.

Hurriedly, you rush around the house until you arrive at your bedroom window. Thanking your past self for slightly lifting the glass pane open beforehand, it was easy for you to sneak in without any faults.

The room was dim only because of the dawn lights outside. “Ah, finally,” you shut the window, hearing the loud ‘thud’ in contrast to the quiet atmosphere around you.

“Did you enjoy yourself, hm?”

‘Oh. My. God.’

It feels like you were in a horror movie. Jungkook’s cold voice sent shivers all over your body, running down your spine, arms, and legs. Frozen in your place, you gulp the ball that formed in your throat.

Jungkook was sitting comfortably in your bed, one leg above another. “You know, little girl, I didn’t know how comfy this bed is. I might sleep in here with you sometimes.”

“What?” you abruptly turn to look at him. He had a despicable smirk, knowing what he said has gotten on your nerves. “You will not sleep with me.”

“Why not?” he doesn’t lose eye contact with you as he stands up, “You’re my baby girl.”

Your breathing turned heavy as he slowly pushes you back into a concrete wall, not providing you any room to run away. “I-I’m…I’m what?”

His eyes inspect your body up and down. You were praying to someone above that he wouldn’t see your hickeys, but it was all too late, and he knows you too much.

Jungkook prods his tongue in his cheek once his menacing eyes stay on your neck. He looks straight into your eyes, before directing them back to those hickeys.

“What is this—” your breathing snags from how rapid he was to press his body against you, wrapping his right hand around your jaw. He forcefully tilts your head to gain more access to your neck. Jungkook analyzes the deep red and purple marks on your skin, feeling oh-so disappointed in you. You turn squeamish from how tight he holds you, hearing how rugged the way his breath became, deep inhales and aggressive exhales. “What a fucking slut you are.”

You feel your blood rushing out from your face, turning pale in a mere second of him saying that word to you.

With a gruff, guttural voice, Jungkook doesn’t let you explain for he swiftly turns you around, pushing your frontside onto the cold wall.

He holds the back of your neck and “I stayed up all fucking night waiting for you to come back home. Despite how fucking irritating and bratty you are, no matter how much you hate me, I care for you, Y/n. I fucking care for you, and I promised your mother that I’ll look after you.”

You whimper when he tightens his grip once again, but you didn’t think about pushing away.

“But here you are, not even cooperating with daddy.”

“You’re not—”

Jungkook suddenly gives your clothed ass cheek a hard, loud spank. Your engrossed gasp captivated the room, and it sure did something to him. Jungkook, although he knows that you can’t see him, hides his growing smirk by biting his lower lip. He gives you a second spank, and a third spank, making your legs quiver and knees buckle from the pain.

“P-Please stop…” you whine, your hands trying to reach behind you to grab his arms.

“Stop?” he raises an eyebrow, “Wanna stop, little girl? You don’t like it when daddy spanks your ass?”

However, you don’t answer. You don’t know what you want. The situation turned you on, and you know you’ll love the way your ass will burn afterward. Why stop now when you can enjoy it?

Jungkook sees your mind was racing with thoughts, and he takes this as a perfect opportunity to drag you along with him to the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and swings you over his knee.

“Stop!” you yell loudly this time, trying to pry away, but he was holding onto you tightly.

“Shut up,” Jungkook growls, his voice immediately changes into a much deeper, hoarser tone. He, once again, grabs your jaw and forces you to tilt your head up, making you look directly into his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, little girl. You do nothing but run your mouth all over this goddamn house.”

Jungkook was angry. The pads of his fingertips dig deeper into the skin of your jaw and lower cheeks, causing your lips to form a pout.

He clicks his tongue, “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. If you think that I’m going to let you go so easily, I’m afraid that you’re wrong, dear. I’ve finally gotten you between my teeth!” he exclaims sarcastically, although the sour tone of his voice makes you cringe.

“You think you’re the shit, huh? Wanting attention so bad that you sneak out at midnight to fuck a disgusting pig. Am I right, Y/n?”

“How fucking—” you shake and try to wiggle yourself out of his grip, offended by the words he said. You wanted to punch him yet cry at the same time. “How fucking dare you!” Facing him with tears slowly welling up in your eyes, “I-I do not— Yeonjun’s not… ugh!” You dig your nails into your palm from the raging frustration that was filling your mind and body. You kick your legs up and down, but Jungkook was not having it. He isn’t letting you go any time soon because he constricts your wrists together behind your back, tighter.

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook smirks menacingly, “Relax, little girl, relax. You’re safe now in daddy’s arms. Perhaps that Yeonjun boy has gotten in your head a little too much, hm? Don’t worry, daddy will fix your attitude.”

Without hesitating at all, Jungkook pulls your skirt down, revealing your lace panties all to his eyes. His warm hand rubs your soft flesh, squeezing it here and there. He knows that you like it. He knows that you’re only keeping this little act up to seem tough. But he sees the way your eyes dilate whenever he says a word that triggers you, that triggers you in a way that’ll make you surrender to him.

Take the kitchen scenario, for example. With one word, with a specific act, you were melting for him. He knows that you absolutely can’t get enough of him, and he loves to play with your mind.

He was completely aware that it wasn’t Yeonjun or anything else that makes you act like this; acting like a little monster. It was all because of him; he’s the one responsible.

And he’s the one who will fix you.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook’s tone turns softer, more delicate. He hits your ass once, twice, before cooing you with shushes.

You slowly get hazy, the spiteful and bratty part of your brain switches off. A shiver runs throughout your system when he wraps his hand around your neck. Flashes of the kitchen scenario fill your mind; how submissive you turned for him so swiftly. Your consciousness knows that you’re doing it for a second time.

“Where’s my good baby girl, hm? Where’s that little girl that I love so, so fucking much?” He says through gritted teeth at the last sentence, spanking your butt again.

His thumb rubs soothing repetitive circles on your skin, disregarding how firm he was choking you. You close your eyes, sniffing a little, somehow feeling tranquility in his grasp.

You release a pain-filled mewl when he purposefully presses his thumb against the giant reddish-purple hickey on your neck. Jungkook’s cock hardens beneath his sweatpants, forming an obvious outline as each second passes.

He was enthralled by you. The way you move and the way you behave for him was addictive to see. “Yeonjun, huh?” Jungkook grins, “What’s this hickey for? Little girl?” Jungkook laughs as he lands another critical spank, causing your body to slightly jolt forward. “Is this his way of ‘marking’ you, hm? Claiming you as his own?” he doesn’t stop giggling from his own words, mocking you with a bitter attitude.

“How pathetic, don’t you think? You allow yourself to be ‘claimed’ by a random dude you just met. Are you proud of yourself? Oh, I bet you’re very delighted that you’ve finally found attention from a boy.”

He chokes you harder, pressing his thumb firmer against the hickey. The pain shoots throughout your body, making you quiver and close your eyes. However, you don’t respond. It was too humiliating to admit that his words were surprisingly true.

Without a warning, he hooks his index finger along the waistband of your panties and yanks it down. You sharply inhale through your nose, chewing down on your bottom lip as you feel two slender fingers play with your wet slit. Jungkook groans lowly from how wet you are, watching your pussy clench and unclench around nothing.

“But you… oh you, Y/n—” he flips you back up and positions you to sit on his thighs, straddling him. Jungkook tilts his head and raises both of his brows, looking at you with disbelief.

He exhales his words out, “You don’t know how to hide that skanky hickey of yours. Have you ever thought about covering up your hickey just as any other teen with a working brain, you slut?”

Jungkook’s vicious, barbed words hit you like a truck. You look away from him, but he was quick to place a finger on your chin. He flicks his finger up, your head joining the gesture.

As his tongue dances along with his plush bottom lip, he places his hands on your hips and squeezes thoroughly. His eyes rake your body up and down, your exposed cunt exposed to him.

“Hickeys 101, Y/n. Conceal and disguise your hickeys if you don’t want to be caught,” he smirks, “but of course you wanted to be caught. You wanted all of this to happen.”

“I don’t care.” You shake your head, trying your hardest to force a poker-face, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. His hands were toying with your waist, tapping his fingertips on your dressed skin. Why does he have to mess with your mind like this?

Sensual. Your stepdad reeked sex appeal and you hate yourself for loving it so much. His senses stick to you like a shadow you can’t escape, his aura addicting, and you want more of it.

He pulls you closer, hands on each side of your face. His nose was a millimeter away from your own, and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face. That awful smirk doesn’t wipe off of his face. He looks at your lips, then back to your eyes. As much as he was admiring your beauty, you were doing the same.

Jungkook was undoubtedly handsome. Perfect, strong features that no man in your liking can ever compare. His luscious, long hair with wavy strands here and there frames his face, encompassing his flawless appearance.

There’s no way you will ever say no to him.

He kisses you. Pressing his lips against yours, he kisses you so gently that you forget that he’s supposed to punish you. The kiss was tender and soft, a kiss like he would give to a girl’s first time.

‘You’re kissing your stepdad, idiot.’ A voice at the back of your mind says. However, easily disregarding that conflicting thought, Jungkook pulls away before you can even take the kiss to the next level.

“Little girl, oh, baby,” he laughs, “I’m going to hurt you. I’m gonna fucking bruise you until I can see tears in your eyes.”

He easily throws you on the bed and he starts to strip himself down to his boxers. There was an evident fear written across your face, hugging your knees to your chest as you watch his dick grow beneath his underwear.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” he growls, “Take everything off. Now.” His natural dominating presence allowed you to obey him quite easily. You did as you were told, keeping eye contact the whole time just to tease him. Sucking your bottom lip, you hide your sly grin.

Jungkook stands tall from the edge of the bed, his honeydew skin being a perfect contrast with his dark hair. He palms himself through his boxer briefs, not having any hesitation at all. His eyes never leave you as you take off every piece of clothing from your body. You felt a little insecure, yes, but you gulp that nervousness down your throat.

However, as soon as you took your top off, Jungkook caught a glimpse of more hickeys scattered all over your chest. This sight causes him to tilt his head back with an exasperated sigh.

“Crawl.” He motions with his index and middle finger a ‘come here’ motion, “Crawl to me, little girl.”

You get down on all fours and do as your told. He smiles with a content look on his face, but was soon replaced with a seductive gaze, “Did you have sex with that boy?”

“W-What? No, I didn’t!” you answer quickly, shaking your head.

His throbbing cock was right in front of your face. Aside from it still being covered with his underwear, you can spot how it twitches then are there. He holds your head with both of his warm hands, “Tell me, little girl. What are you?”

Your mouth gapes open but no word comes out. With your mind filled with lust and desire, you couldn’t understand what he meant.

Jungkook pulls his cock out, but he doesn’t let you see it at first. He holds your head up and won’t even tolerate you taking a glance.

“You don’t know what you are, huh?” he scoffs bitterly, “I knew you wouldn’t. What’s a girl like you anyway, right?”

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest.

“Repeat after me, Y/n. I am a whore.”

You whimper, pouting your lips.

“C’mon, don’t say it’s too degrading for you, whore. It’s the bare fucking minimum for me. Don’t you want me to be proud of you?”

Oh, he knows what he’s doing to you. He knows and of your weaknesses and he’s been using those against you. But you – you were naïve enough to notice that.

“I’m…” you blink rapidly, “I’m a whore.”

He snarks whilst stroking your luscious hair, “Louder.”

Jungkook ignores your whines and waits for you with a quirked eyebrow. His patience was wearing thin and you were walking on thin ice right now.

“I’m a whore.” You repeat loudly this time, the words sinking deep into your soul.

He leans down and slants his head, “And what do whores get, hm?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Jungkook wraps a big hand around his thick cock, aligning the tip in front of your mouth. You gasp. “They get their bratty mouths stuffed with dick.”

There wasn’t even a warning as Jungkook shoves his dick down your throat, making you gag and choke harshly around his girth. Jungkook growls deeply, his eyes rolling back to his head.

Your saliva starts to drip down to your chin as he face-fucks you, not giving you the time to breathe nor to adjust to his long length. With one hand, he creates a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head farther down his dick.

The whimpers you made out of protest didn’t even work, because the vibrations it caused pleasured him even more.

“Mhmm, that’s right, struggle for me,” he moans, watching your eyes filling up with tears. “This is where you belong, whore. Right at your stepdad’s mercy and submission. You don’t get to choose what you want because I owe you. I control you.”

Jungkook further fucks you as his hips thrust back and forth with no remorse. Gagging sounds fill the entire room and it just turns him on increasingly.

“Look at me. Look at me!” he grunts as he pulls his dick out. He watches a single tear fall down your cheek, making his mouth form another devilish grin.

He leans down to grab something from the floor, but you don’t notice.

“You’re such a mess, little girl. Just what daddy wants you to be.”

Jungkook takes his shaft and abruptly slaps your cheek with his dick. He hits your flesh a couple of times, humming in delight.

In a swift, quick second, you suddenly feel a hard and raging sting on your right ass cheek from an unexpected impact. You cry out loud, shutting your eyes from the pain you experienced without a notice.

His belt.

The harsh leather material instantly caused redness on your delicate, soft skin. Jungkook whips you again, triggering a downpour of tears. You release incoherent noises every time he spanks you, for every hit was harder and sharper from the last.

“You’re a naughty, irresponsible little girl.” He declares alongside another hit. He makes sure that each cheek was covered in red belt marks. His cock stands tall before you, drenched in your saliva as it leaks precum. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it and he takes this into account.

Another hit, he puts all his strength in, making you inhale a sharp breath. Jungkook takes this shot to plunge his dick deep back into your mouth, pushing past your gag reflex as you struggle for air once more.

Your pussy was awfully drenched and you can feel your wetness drip down from your slit and onto your inner thighs. You’ve never been this wet before, and it was insane that it’s all because of your unquestionably hot step-dad.

It was like you’re in a porn video. No matter how rough he was fucking your face, you enjoyed it and you were moaning as he obliterates your throat.

Jungkook pushes his cock deeper, your entire body twitching from the foreign feeling. “Stay there, stay there,” he rasps, “Stay there and take my big fucking dick down your little throat. Yes, that’s right, ohh fuck.”

Every muscle in his body flexes as he tries to keep you still. "This is all you're good for, slut. You deserve to be used for pleasure from a man. You're nothing but a cockwhore." His biceps harden as he puts your head in place, abs tight. He leans forward and encloses your poor head with his strong thighs, securing yourself to his dick.

With another crack of his belt onto your ass, you cry. Jungkook admires the sight of chaos he’s created. Once he was satisfied with the look of you, he pulls out.

This is what he likes; messy and all wet. A string of saliva connects from your lips and to the tip of his dick. You try to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling so sharply. Looking up at him with red, pitiable eyes, you give him a sullen expression.

“You see what you did there, little girl? Hm? Now tell me again, what are you?”

This time, you don’t hesitate.

“I’m a whore.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are, baby. You’re daddy’s little whore.”

Your mind turns fuzzy once again. It was clear that you were not yourself anymore. If you weren’t drunk in lust, you wouldn’t let this happen and you absolutely wouldn’t allow him to handle you this way.

But then again, it was too difficult to not succumb to him.

“Cute little thing,” he murmurs beneath his breath. “Bet your pussy taste fucking delicious. Go on, turn around for daddy and let him see.”

Your cheeks blush once you’ve obeyed his order and your cunt was exposed all for his eyes. Feeling a hand run down your sore ass, you whine as his fingers trail down your inner thighs, purposely ignoring your needy pussy.

Jungkook was biting his lip so hard that he can almost draw blood. Ever so slightly, the pad of his thumb glides across your wet slit, lightly pressing against it. “Jungkook,” you whisper, wiggling your butt for more.

“Oww fuck!” you drop your face on the mattress when Jungkook slaps your pussy unanticipatedly. Legs quivering in need, you bite down on the sheets.

“Surprised that you don’t know how to address me, Y/n.” In a quick motion, he pushes two fingers inside your sopping entrance.

Already feeling full, your back painfully arches as you attempt to take his fingers that were thrusting in and out so boldly. Suave movements of his digits caused a chill down your back, feeling too much euphoria at once.

“What’s my name again?” he inquires before using his thumb to rub on your throbbing clit.

“Daddy,” you reply quickly, not wanting to be punished further.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, “that’s what a good girl should do; follow instructions without having to tell twice. You just love taking orders, don’t you? Huh?”

“I-I do,” your face heats up immensely, stomach churning.

Jungkook hums approvingly as he spreads your ass cheeks apart with his hands. You can feel the heat radiating off of his face as he leans into your cunt. With a bold lick of his tongue, your body shivers as the strong muscle toys with your folds.

“Oh, please,” you moan, “that feels so good.”

“Really now?” Jungkook gathers a bunch of his saliva and spits it down on your cunt, making it wetter and lubricated than it already was. He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks profusely, licking and biting here and there. The sound of your moans fueled his hunger for your cum, but he was not letting you go so easily.

His tongue flicks your clit without mercy before inserting two fingers inside your hole once more. He feels your walls flutter around his digits, signaling your upcoming orgasm.

He pulls away completely.

Jungkook ignores your cries and how you bucked your hips to him, wanting more. He instructs you to lay down on the bed with your back against the headboard. Grasping the belt in his hand, you swallow the formed ball down your throat as you watch him crawl to you – like a predator hunting for its prey.

“Pretty,” he mumbles to himself, eyeing you up and down. He kneels before you and grabs your neck, pulling you to him. If it weren’t for his lewdness and obscure actions, then you would say that his smile was sweet. But you know for a fact that his mind was thinking of different ways on how to torture you.

Your eyes widen as he wraps the black leather belt around your jugular, using it like it's a dog collar and leash. “What are you – ohh…” Jungkook tightens the belt not enough to suffocate you, but enough for you to feel that it’ there.

“Gotta hide that hideous hickey of yours, little girl. The more I look at it, the more I remember how much of a slut you are for that boy. Tell me, can Yeonjun make you feel the way I make you feel?”

"No," you meekly reply with a little shake of your head. Nothing will ever compare to what Jungkook makes you feel than any other.

He wraps the belt around his fist and tugs on it, causing you to jolt forward, face closer to him. His nose barely grazes against yours. "Tell daddy you're sorry."

"B-But..."

He tilts his head in confusion, surely not expecting you to reply with anything else than a simple 'sorry.'

"But what?" he nags, slowly growing annoyed.

"I didn't mean to do it with Yeonju—".

*Slap*

His hands collide with your right cheek, slapping your face with no remorse, making you release a loud whimper of pain. Jungkook growls and roughly holds your cheek, making you pout. Your eyes instantly tear up from the stinging pain, and Jungkook leans to your ear to whisper; "Say. Sorry."

He releases his grip on your cheeks so you can answer properly, "I'm sorry...daddy."

"Good girl," he says simply before leaning in to give a tender, wet kiss on your lips. He smiles before you, eyes turning into little crescents with dark irises staring directly into yours, "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, what've you learned, little girl?" he caresses your reddened cheek, "You promise to be good from now on and obey daddy?"

"I promise." You reply in an almost inaudible whisper. Thankfully, it was enough for Jungkook.

However, he wasn't done with you. He was yet to put his dick inside your pussy. Thanks to his strong build, Jungkook easily flips you around on your stomach, making you lay flat on the bed. He hovers on top of you with his dick in between your butt.

Grabbing your wrists to secure them behind your back, he takes his shaft with his other hand and aligns his cock to your dripping pussy's entrance.

"Want my cock?" Jungkook asks with a raspy voice, turned-on from the sight of your bruised butt with the combination of your sweet cunt, the folds all wet and ready for him.

"Mhm, please put it in me..." you insist politely.

Without hesitating, Jungkook pushes his tip inside your heat. "God, fuck," he chuckles, moaning right after, "you have such a tight pussy. So fucking tight and wet for my dick. Mhmm..."

Your pussy walls inevitably flutter around his girth once he had his whole tip in, and you can’t help yourself but twitch and squirm. Jungkook finds this endearing.

“Daddy,” you mewl, “please put it all in me.”

‘Well, if you said so.’ Jungkook thinks before shoving his whole length in. Ignoring how your back arched and the loud yelp you released, Jungkook thrusts his dick in and out of your pussy so good like he was a sex-god.

His dick is covered in your juices as he rubs his precum all over your walls, getting you all nice and extra-lubricated for him. Your moans motivate him to continue, his primal instincts were ultimately getting the best of him.

“F-Fuck,” he stutters, biting his bottom lip. It has been a while since he’s felt pussy wrapped around his cock, consequently, he ravishes on the sensation he missed so fucking much. “You’re being so good taking my dick, mhmm, you like it deep inside that young pussy?” he asks with a tint of mockery in his tone, “I bet you’re the type to prefer older men’s dick.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher, deeper, making you feel so full. His words were like honey, despite how lewd they are, the way how he spoke to you made you addicted.

Jungkook holds your wrists tighter, nails digging down your skin. “I know your little boyfriends can’t satisfy you. That’s why you only want my cock, correct, little lady?”

“M-Mhmm,” you respond as his balls clap against your ass.

You’ve never felt more euphoric in your entire life. Only vulgar and lecherous sounds can be heard and you never want it to stop. His fervent, erotic moans sounded so hot made you milk his cock even harder. And it worked; Jungkook feels you tightening, clenching and unclenching.

Pounding you like this from behind, all submissive for him was feeding onto his dark, domineering desires. Getting you all for himself was easier than he expected.

“Do you want to cum?” he flips you around and starts fucking you in missionary, the new position makes you throw your head back as his cock hits your g-spot over and over again.

You mouth the word ‘yes’, having no energy to form a coherent word.

Jungkook chuckles, lifting both your legs up to his shoulders, creating more leeway for him to move deeper.

“Ohh my god, just like that!”

“Yeah?” He presses his body to yours, sweaty bodies pressed together. Without wiping away that smirk of his, he brings his mouth to yours to kiss you one again.

You felt a sensory overload. With each hard, delicious thrust, you keep moaning into his mouth that you can’t even give him a proper kiss. “I-I’m gonna cum, daddy,” you sob, “I’m gonna cum!”

“Hold it.” He snaps, “Hold your cum. Wait for my instructions.”

His breathing was getting unsteady, you feel your room getting hotter and hotter with each second. All you can think of was his cock drilling inside your cunt. His long hair drapes from his face and the tips were slightly ticking your cheeks. The veins in his neck were protruding, making him look ten times hotter.

His cock was making you dumb. You can almost forget that he was your stepdad – for he was just an older man you lusted for.

“Be a good cockslut for me, m’kay baby? You’re already a good girl for letting daddy take control over you. I’m gonna let you cum as a reward.”

“Mmnggg, please!”

With his hand, he grabs your belt-clad throat and squeezes hard, making you see stars. Your toes curl up from this specific action.

“Open your mouth.” He says in a hurry, teeth gritted together, “Open your slutty mouth.”

After a second that you parted your lips, Jungkook spits in your mouth unexpectedly. This made you wild. You didn’t dare to close your mouth and swallow his already existing spit because you wanted more. “Ohh, I see what you want,” Jungkook snickers, “filthy little whore. Swallow and I’ll give you more.”

Subsequently, he praises you with words that made you blush. He gives you another load of his spit, and you consume it immediately. If Jungkook was hard earlier, he was now rock-solid from your freaky behavior he didn’t know you comprised.

“Daddy, please! I can’t hold it in…” your body slightly quivers from the unforgiving impact of his cock, squeezing your walls so tightly to prevent yourself from spilling your cum onto him.

Jungkook can’t wait any longer himself, “Cum. Cum on my cock, baby. Do it – oh shit – do it now.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back to your head. You felt an overwhelming drive of euphoria rush through your system as you let yourself loose on his cock. “Jesus Christ, you’re so hot, little girl,” Jungkook groans, “There, there,” he pumps his cock faster to catch his orgasm.

"Daddy's gonna cum inside your mouth," Jungkook's cock twitches instantly from the thought, "Imma spill my seed deep inside your throat. You're not wasting any spills, little girl, you're lucky to even get a taste of my cum. For a slut like you don't deserve a single shit. A-Ahhh fuck, y-you’re lucky your so goddamn cute that I – mmngg – couldn’t resist giving you daddy’s cum."

Within a couple of deep, mind-blowing thrusts, he pulls out and crawls over to your face. Automatically opening your mouth to accept his cock, he pushes his length down and past your gag-reflex. “B-Baby, baby, fucking shit,” he grits his teeth, hands clawing at your hair, “Take my cum, c’mon, I know you can. I know you can take this sweet daddy cum. Mhmm that’s a good girl, that’s daddy’s good little girl.”

Your throat contracts and gags as he fills you up, spilling his seed down your pipe. Tears started to fall down your woeful eyes, attempting to take everything that was given to you.

You knew you were going to hell for this – for all of this. But at least you’ve enjoyed yourself and got what you’ve wanted.

It was undeniably crazy how quick he got you into submission. Was it the way that he talks to you, the way he can technically read your mind and identify all of the things you desired, or was it just your daddy issues coming to play?

Whatever it was, you didn’t regret a single bit of this to happen.

Who knows if this will occur to you again; if you’ll receive the same pleasure as this again?

“Come ‘ere, let me wrap you in my arms,” Jungkook whispers after cleaning you up. Nodding, you scooch over to him to allow his warmth to resonate through your naked body.

He is the perfect big spoon. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming a song to soothe you.

Looking outside the window, you see that the sky is painted with variations of orange and red, signaling the arrival of dawn. Your eyes grow big as you examine the time on the wall clock; 4:00 A.M. You have three and a half hours left until classes start.

Jungkook minds how your body tenses. He holds you a bit tighter and snuggles his face into the crook of your neck. Even though he can see those awful hickeys, he turns a blind eye to them.

“Skip classes. Daddy won’t be mad,” he titters, “Although, your mom will be home anytime soon today.”

You emit a gasp, “Wait, today?”

“Yes,” he sneers, understanding the panic in your eyes, “Remember what I told you, Y/n. Hickeys 101, cover—”

“Cover it up.”

After you’ve slept through all your classes for today, you woke up in the afternoon exactly when your mother just arrived from her trip.

Your whole body was sore. You can’t walk straight and your hair was in tangles. Before exiting your bedroom, you went to your bathroom, grabbed your makeup back, and covered your hickeys with concealer.

‘Yeonjun… should I even see him again?’

The makeup did the bare minimum of covering your bruises. It wasn’t the best coverage ever, but it was enough. Parting your hair to the side to hide most of the skin of your neck, you finally went outside.

“Y/n!” your mother exclaims, raising her head after she was scurrying deep inside her bag. “There you are. Are classes dismissed early?”

Your step-dad chuckles behind her as he was carrying the rest of her luggage to the living room. Jungkook glances at you.

“Yes.” You straight out lied.

“I see. Oh! And did Jungkook treat you well?”

You almost choked in your spit.

“Was he good to you?” your mom raises her brows to Jungkook, “Or was Y/n a pain in the ass, babe?”

Your face turns red in an instant. You wanted to laugh from the double-meaning of her words.

“Y/n was a pain in the ass but don’t worry…” Jungkook smirks at you, his eyes hinting a sultry, teasing look, “She’s a good girl nevertheless.”

The way Jungkook looks at you has to be a crime. There’s never a moment where you didn’t feel a single thing whenever he locks his handsome eyes with yours. It was an incredibly intense feeling – a feeling that you know you’ll crave.

“Mm. Okay. You look…” she scans your figure, head to toe. “tired. But anyway, come here and help me unpack. I have tons of stories and gossips to tell!” Your mom exclaims as she sits down on the couch.

Before you can even approach her, Jungkook grabs your right arm and puts you in front of him. Afraid that he’ll do something you’ll regret, you pull away – but he shakes his head.

Jungkook puts his index finger in front of his mouth, looking down at you while he whispers, “Shhh,” he leans forward and mouths the next words close to your ear, “Act like nothing happened, little girl.”

#jungkook smut #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btsguild #bangtansmutcentral

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

driver’s license ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2520

request?: no

description: in which a new song reminds her too much of her ex, and leads them to reconnect

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst, sadness

based on this song (of course)

masterlist

Who knew that a song by a 17 year old could cause so much hurt to be brought back for me? Not to bash 17 year olds or anything, but when I was 17 I could never write something so heartbreakingly beautiful.

I was on my way home from work when the song came on the radio for the first time. I was captivated by the lyrics immediately and found myself having to pull over because I couldn’t stop crying. It took a solid five minutes and having to play my happy playlist on Spotify before I finally felt okay enough to get home, however the minute I got in through the door I found the song on Spotify and listened to it all night.

The lyrics connected with me in a way that a song hadn’t in years, and the pain in the singer’s voice opened up fresh wounds that I had thought were long closed.

She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about

Of course he ended up with her. Even if he hadn’t actually left me for her, he always told me there was nothing between them besides on screen chemistry. And now they were dating and supposedly “so in love”.

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

He wrote so many songs about me. He played every one of them for me after writing and recording them, just to get my approval and my okay to put them out. They were beautiful songs - songs in which he promised forever. He’d always said he was going to marry me one day, make me the mother of his future kids. His “forever girl”.

Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fucking love you, babe

God...did I ever still love him.

Our relationship didn’t get a proper closure. At least, not on my end. It all happened so fast. He came home after a long tour and was silent the whole night. He didn’t even try to make love to me the way he always did after being away from me for so long. The next morning, he told me over breakfast that he had lost feelings for me. He asked me to get my things and take them back to the apartment I still had despite basically living out of his home. Then he left, saying he didn’t want to be there to watch me leave.

After that, it was like he stopped existing. Well, it was like Colson Baker stopped existing. Machine Gun Kelly was everywhere, especially after announcing his new relationship with Megan Fox, in which he made sure to post pictures and videos with her basically every week. But the Colson I knew and loved stopped existing. He blocked me on everything, even my phone number. He didn’t reach out to me, neither did Casie. I figured the latter was because her father told her not to, which almost hurt more than the breakup did. I loved Casie like my own daughter, and I loved Colson more than anything. And in the span of 12 hours, I lost both of them.

I credited that non-closure to the reason I had such a hard time moving on, even after being broken up almost a year. I really thought I was okay, until I heard fucking Olivia Rodrigo singing about her own heartbreak, and it made me remember mine was still fresh.

On one day that my thoughts were becoming too dark to bare on my own, I decided to go out for a drive to clear my head. I turned on the song, just to make myself more depressed I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention to the road (not good, I know) and, I guess by some muscle memory, I found myself driving down Colson’s street. I hadn’t realized where I was until I saw his familiar house, which his familiar car in the driveway...and his familiar tall frame getting out of it.

My breath caught in my throat and I was sure I was about to crash the car. I looked at him for a little too long, every good memory we ever had rushing back in that moment. He was looking down at his keys as he bumped the car door shut with his hip. I wondered if Megan was in the house waiting for him, and found that that thought hurt me more than actually seeing him.

I saw his head lifting, looking in my direction, for a split second before my eyes darted back to the road. I hoped he couldn’t see me in the driver’s seat, or that he didn’t see me looking at him. I hoped he just thought I was a random car passing through the neighborhood. If he couldn’t see that it was specifically me driving, there was no way he’d know it was my car. There were too many cars like it.

My heart was racing and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes again. I knew I had to pull over, but I was still too close to his house to feel comfortable stopping. I blinked my tears away and continued driving, trying to steady my heartbeat as I drove to the coffee shop just at the end of his road. The one we always used to go to.

I got out and went inside, hoping that getting something to eat and drink would help me to settle down before I drove home. I ordered an iced coffee and a muffin and took it to sit in a booth tucked away in the back of the coffee shop. I was trying to distract myself with my phone when someone approached and spoke.

“Hey.”

My whole body tensed up as I looked up to see - of course - Colson stood over me.

“Hey,” I said. I cringed at how hoarse my voice sounded. God, pull it together (Y/N).

“I thought that was you driving past my place,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, trying to come up with some excuse on the spot as to why I was in the neighborhood. “I haven’t been to this place in so long and found myself craving some coffee. I guess...it was just muscle memory to come through your way to get here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I...I actually got a little excited. I thought...I thought maybe you were coming over for a second. I forgot...”

His voice trailed away.

How could he forget we broke up when he was the one who dumped me? And he was the one who moved on soo effortlessly?

“Can I sit?” he asked.

I shrugged in response. “Free country.”

He chuckled at my joke, and my heart did an involuntary flip. God, I missed that laugh.

He sat across from me in the booth and looked down at his hands. I stared down at the food in front of me, suddenly feeling too queasy to eat. Instead, I took another sip of my iced coffee.

“How have you been?” he asked.

The questioned annoyed me.

How have I been?! Well, let’s see: you absolutely shattered my heart, went MIA on me and took your daughter with you, started seeing the much older, much prettier actress that you told me you had no feelings for and decided to rub it in my face through social media, all while I have been so broken for nearly a year that I constantly have friends and family checking in on me to make sure I’m still alive. How the fuck do you think I’ve been?!

I decided not to respond that way though, even though I was aching to make him feel bad for what he did to me. I knew it was the smarter option to try and be the bigger person in this situation.

“I’ve been okay,” I responded, trying to be as vague as possible. “Not too much as happened really. Still...same old me.”

I didn’t ask him how he was, because I already knew. He knew that I knew, because how could I not? His face was plastered everywhere, usually sucking on Megan’s face as well.

“It’s cool to see you,” he said instead. “I...It’s been too long.”

“Well, it tends to be hard to communicate when you block someone on everything overnight.”

I quickly took a sip of my iced coffee, almost wishing that would put the words back in my mouth.

Colson winced. “Yeah, that was...that was wrong of me. I...I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you here, Colson?” I finally snapped. So much for being the bigger person. “Couldn’t you have just watched me drive past in peace? Did you have to follow me?”

“I felt like I had to,” he said. “I wanted...I wanted to know I hadn’t just seen you this time like all the other times I saw a car that looked like yours. I had to know if it was actually you this time. And I...I had to see you in person again.”

“You could’ve called at any time,” I reminded him. “Or messaged on social media, or even just texted. You could’ve even sent a fucking letter, Colson! If you wanted to see me that bad, you had ways of reaching out. You decided not to, you decided that the break up meant I was non-existent to you anymore.”

“I know!” he snapped back, his hand hitting the table and causing the contents on it to rattle. All eyes in the coffee shop were staring at us for a brief moment before going back to what they were doing. “I fucking know, and it was the worst fucking mistake I’ve ever made. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I was a complete idiot.”

“Sorry means nothing to me, Colson,” I told him. “Sorry doesn’t undo the year of heartbreak and agony you put me through. Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that you left me for six months to go on tour, that you texted and called me every morning and every night to tell me how much you loved me and how you couldn’t wait to see me again, even on the night before you came home, only to do a complete 180 the moment you got off the plane. It doesn’t excuse the fact that you told me to take my shit and leave the place I had considered a home for two years because you were ending the five year relationship that you claimed to be so deeply in love with. And it especially doesn’t excuse the fact that mere months after the break up you were all over Megan fucking Fox!”

He was silent for a long time. His eyes were becoming moist with tears, and I could feel a lump growing in my own throat. But I couldn’t break. I refused to do so. Not in front of him, not right now.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he finally breathed, his voice cracking slightly. “You have to know how much I truly do fucking love you, (Y/N). That never went away. It’s still there, you’re still my forever girl in my heart. But when I came home from tour...my manager called me as I was boarding the flight and told me that there was a plan in motion to get promo for the new album and for the movie with Megan. They wanted Megan and I to date for PR, to be all lovey dovey in front of the cameras and to gush over one another constantly. I reminded him about you and he told me I had to break up with you. He gave me no option, he said either I did that or I was being dropped from the label. No album, no movie, no...no nothing. Just the loser who was still being referred to as the idiot who got his career destroyed by Eminem.”

It was a shocking revelation. I had known Colson’s manager, he seemed like such a nice guy. He didn’t seem like the type to give those kinds of ultimatums. But there was that saying about a wolf in sheep’s clothing...

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“It was easier to make you think I just wasn’t in love anymore,” he said. “I didn’t want you to think I was choosing my career over you, cause I’d never do that. You meant - you mean - the world to me (Y/N). You’re my everything. I just...all the hard work I was putting into everything, for all of that to go to waste, for everything to flop just because I didn’t want to fake date my co-star. I was afraid of the power my manager held over me so...so I just did it. I went along with the plan. I pretended to be hopelessly in love with Megan when I had no feelings for her at all.”

He reached across the table and took my hands in his. I jumped and thought about pulling away from him, but I couldn’t deny that it felt nice to feel his touch again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said. “More than anything, you’re the person I want to be with. That bullshit with Megan, it’s long over. We just haven’t made it known publicly, but it will be announced. I want to try and pick up where things left off with us. I want to have you back in my home - in my arms - preparing to marry you someday. Please, (Y/N), can you please forgive me?”

It was the words I wanted to hear more than anything. I had dreamt about hearing Colson ask to take me back ever since he had broken up with me. At that point in time, I probably would’ve jumped at the chance, too. But this time, I slowly pulled my hands away from his. He looked at me in confusion.

“I can’t,” I told him. “Colson, you really fucking hurt me. You left me with no explanation, not even any closure. I get why you did it, but you have to understand that you telling me now isn’t going to undo a year’s worth of hurt that you put me through. I don’t know if anything will ever undo that at this point.”

I stood from the booth, taking my coffee with me and leaving a heartbroken Colson looking up at me with puppy dog eyes.

“There’s this song I’ve been listening to,” I said. “It’s called Driver’s License. I think it’s the only accurate way to describe how much you hurt me when you broke up with me. I encourage you to listen to it, then you can try to take me back again.”

I turned quickly and left before he could see me cry.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #drivers license #olivia rodrigo #imagine #one shot #angst #song #song prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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haifengg · 3 years

Text

Pairing: NanamixGN!Reader

Note: I think I got this ask quite a while ago but due to my hiatus it got postponed a million times. Now that I am slowly coming back and am publishing the bits and pieces I wrote during being away this A-Z is finally leaving my drafts as well.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Given his S/O is a sorcerer as well I think he would limit PDA at work to a minimum. Even if they are officially together or even married. He just likes to separate work and home. Tho it doesn’t mean that he is not making small intimate gestures at work like randomly dropping in with coffee or - when they are on a mission - sending a text asking how they are doing.

At home he is pretty affectionate. Randomly pulling them in for a hug, giving small back rubs when they are doing the dishes after he cooked. This kind of thing.

B = Before (What were they like when they had a crush?) Distant. Nanami would probably be a person who maybe actually mistakes the feeling for some other emotion at first. Leaving him confused about why he thinks about them so much. The poor man would likely be irritated every time they are nice to him. Why the heck doesn’t his heart stop pounding? And why is he suddenly excited to go to work? Disappointed when he is not assigned the same mission as them? Or - if they aren’t a sorcerer - sad when a mission takes him away from wherever he met them for too long?

C = Confession (What was their confession like?) Well-planned and straight forward. Nanami was already observing them for a while before making a move. Although he doesn’t actually confess it is pretty obvious when he likes someone because it happens so rarely. Just imagine him asking someone out for dinner. That gives away so much - don’t you agree?

D = Date (What was the first official date they went on?) If we don’t count the dinner mentioned above … I guess it would be something like a gallery. Nanami would definitely want to test his s/o’s taste in art because it tells a lot about a person’s character. What kind of art they prefer (paintings, photography, sculptures, … ) and how they look at it as well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Professionally. He would state the fact on why they aren’t compatible anymore and what made him draw this conclusion. I don’t think either one of them would cheat on the other mainly because Nanami wouldn’t get into a relationship with someone capable of doing that in the first place (I hope). He would sit down with his (not) s/o and talk it through. There might be tears on the other side but not on his. He thought about it a lot and made peace with his feelings before starting this conversation.

F = Fights (What would fights look like? What are things that upset them?) Kento barely looses his temper. And if he does I wouldn’t say that it is necessarily a bad thing. Getting him so worked up about something does only mean he cares. Fights would mostly be on the calmer/diplomatic side. He might be upset about something but there is no need for him to yell or anything. If the problem can be resolved just by talking about it - great! Why waste his precious energy on negative things, when he can use them elsewhere?

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) We all know - and all those rough sm*t fan fictions can’t proof me wrong - that he probably is the most gentle character in entire JJK. He despises the violence of his job therefore he doesn’t want to inflict pain or anything on anyone on his good side. Especially his S/O. Nanami has the most gentle touch, fleeing kisses, he will hold them tight but never smother them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) As mentioned above: Tight and secure. Or soft. His S/O almost automatically buries their face in the crook of his neck because - who wouldn’t. Is there anything else I have to say about hugs by Nanami Kento? Yes. Am I able to put it into words? No. It’s just a very overwhelming feeling - that’s all.

I = Intimacy (What is their favorite form of intimacy? Do they have problems with it?) For him I think it would be things where they take care of him. While he shows his love through cooking and providing (which he takes a lot of pride from), he loves being taken care of as well. Maybe in departments he doesn’t know so much about. Like skincare. If his S/O teases him about his wrinkles and stern look he would gladly accept any advice in skincare from them, let them do their magic with face massages and serums. He doesn’t even care if it has any effect on his skin - he just loves the attention he gets and thrives on the feeling how much his S/O cares about him (and his skin apparently).

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) This one I am really indecisive about. I can see him get more jealous that we would expect him too - which would be a nice surprise tbh. But also not jealous at all because he is confident. Kento knows what his S/O likes about him and he also knows what separates him from other men. What makes him special. I think the times he gets jealous are the days he doesn’t get to spent with his S/O because of work or a mission. Which rather results in being mad at Jujutsu Tech than jealous of someone else.

K = Kisses (Are they a good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Forehead. Kisses. It doesn’t matter what height there S/O is. It is one of the most protective gestures and he enjoys giving those as much as his S/O enjoys receiving them.

The back of the hand cheesy kisses. Because they are his everything, he wants to treat them like it. Nanami knows it’s cheesy but neither one of them thinks too much about it. When they sit across the table, fingers sloppily interlocked on the table top, he occasionally picks up their hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it. Almost absent-minded.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He is not very fond of them. Not saying that he won’t love and do everything for his own kids but other people’s kids are usually a nuisance for him. If they are loud or misbehaving he is really not having it. Though he would never lash out or raise his voice against them/their parents. ‘Children’ as in ‘his students’ … he always makes sure to treat them as children in a way he wants them safe/won’t put them in unnecessary danger.

M = Messages (How often do they text his S/O?) Kento strikes me as a kind of guy who doesn’t text often. Mostly because in his line of work sharing attention could easily be his downfall or worse. He will let his s/o know if he’s running late or occasionally ask if there is anything they need from the store or things like that but aside from practical messages he doesn’t text much.

Though if he is on a long mission and away from his s/o for quite a time span he usually rather calls them than text.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Nights as in ‘Nights Out’? Date nights? Well, he is a foodie so dinner is always a popular option. He takes the time to carefully research about the restaurant and the menu. If the rotate dishes, he will make sure they’re going at the exactly right season to get the best culinary experience possible.

Nanami is old fashioned. So he will hold the door for them, pull back the chair … helps them into their coat.

He also likes going to the movies. The intimacy of the dark theatre gives him the confidence to reach out for their hand or have his arm around their shoulder. Since he usually limits PDA in public this is exciting for him.

O = Opinion (Would they ask for their S/O’s opinion a lot? How important is it in terms of decisions?) Probably more than I would expect him too. Maybe not about the smaller things but decisions that involve the both of them he would definitely ask.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Due to the time he spends exposed to Gojo this man has the patience of a saint. Literally. He rarely snaps at his S/O.

Q = Quizzes (How does a bar trivia night teamed up with them look like?) Stressed. Yes, this man in very educated and cultured but imagine him sitting in a loud-ass bar, having to answer questions about the transformers or Megan Thee Stallion. Absolutely absurd. How old he must feel …

R = Remember (How much do they remember about their S/O or their relationship in general?) Not everything but a lot. He will remember little things they mentioned early on in the relationship and bring it up again later. He also uses this ability for presents and such. As well as in fights. If they think they can outtalk him with something you accusedly said or didn’t say some time ago - I suggest they surrender, because he will remember much better.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Very Protective. I mean yes, he knows that they can stand up for themselves but why should they have to do that if he is around? One of the big perks dating him is that he is who he is and that his presence confuses most people. So he might as well use it. Not so much in a physical way but rather in addressing the people bothering his S/O directly in the typical manner of his.

I think his understanding of being protected equals being taken care of which plays into the skincare thing I mentioned earlier. It is not so much physical procreation from danger but preserving a future together where one cares about the other deeply and only wants their best.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Medium effort. He prepares and researches but he rarely comes up with a new idea. He knows what he likes and his S/O probably does too. His work is so stressful and has close to no repetition so that he enjoys doing the same things on dates over and over. That does not mean it will get boring. Because Nanami sometimes thrives on going the extra mile. There is a restaurant across the country that he really wants to dine at? Buckle up - he is going on a vacation. Short trips or spa weekends are also things he appreciates.

Since he remembers dates and anniversaries well he is usually well prepared for those occasions. He puts a lot of thought into presents and barely ever gifts useless things. He does not like to have a lot of stuff laying around so what he gives to people usually serves a purpose.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a S/O?) Literally everything I mentioned above. Namai Kento is a unique mix of all his traits. A very balanced person.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Well … he wears the same freaking suit everyday so … but yes I think cares about his looks and hygiene in general. As far as clothing goes he probably has one brand he is loyal too, which automatically sets his fashion style in stone as well. He has the same haircut for quite a while and sees no point in changing it.

Overall just the classic hetero dude who ones figured out what works for him and stuck with it. lol.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their S/O? Yes. His S/O is the other side of him. Is what balances his inner peace. Without them he worries too much, stresses too much. He needs them to tell him it’s going to be okay.

X = X-Ray (How transparent are they?) Nanami doesn’t actually tells them everything but will disclose if they ask. He just doesn’t think they are interested in small details about him.

Y = Yuck (Everyone has flaws. What is theirs?) He. Doesn’t. Do. The. Dishes.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Kento never lets go of his S/O. Which can be annoying. And suffocating. Especially in summer. He is not clingy and they don’t fall asleep like this but in the morning he always spoons them or weirdly holds their hand. Sometimes toes interlocked lmao. Which makes them even more lonely when they are apart, because they got used to it way too quickly.

@kpopsnowball @soleilsuhh @jeonghanmoon @himitsu-luna

@sagedevans @shampoocifer @your-consulting-fangirl @gwynsapphire

MASTERLIST

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu nanami #Nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk Nanami kento

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amyisherenowitsokay · 3 years

Note

Zagr for the ship ask 😤😤😤 every single one bitch

I cannot believe you have bombarded me like this. Appalled. Insulted. Astounded.

Please enjoy my entire analysis of my fictional totally canonical ship.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. How did they first meet?

Dib, but also school.

2. What was their first impression of each other?

I think they're both initially incredibly dismissive of one another. Zim thinks the entire fate of the Armada's reputation lying on his shoulders, and Gaz really has too many personal problems even as a kid to deal with; neglectful Dad, overprotective, stupid brother, etc.

3. Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Okay so hear me out; I think Skoodge and Professor Membrane would be so obnoxious in the best way. And Gir, whenever his attention span lets him remember long enough to scream about it. But I think Membrane would be chipper about Gaz finding someone, even long before she admits she's even interested, and Skoodge would want Zim to be happy and is unconditionally supportive, especially when Zim is mopey whenever his advances are rebuffed.

4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Honestly, I love a Zim simp, but I genuinely think it'd be Gaz. Zim is obviously a Defect capable of feeling a larger range of emotions than other Irkens, but he still didn't receive socialization that makes 'romantic rituals' in any way natural to him. So I think Gaz and him would buddy up platonically and casually, initially, until she realizes she likes his company a little too much and freaks out about it.

5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Gaz does, 100%, and she's way more stubborn about it then Zim. I think Zim's denial is just that he doesn't "get" romance (see above) and what's going on with him, but once he understands he's fully down to bombard Gaz with affection, flirtations, and other over-the-top simp behavior until she stops pretending she's not gritting her teeth while fighting a blush.

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Zim doesn't know what a soul is, but he does begin to understand the concept that they can be taken from human's in bargains. He becomes distracted by the topic. Bringing it up again later would have him largely dismissive.

Gaz would roll her eyes, and be extremely bitter about the idea that there is anyone 'made' for her. She's very independent, and I think someone with the sort of familial issues she does with no role model for a 'happy' family would be really resistant to being bound to someone in a way that would entitle them to her vulnerabilities. She'd be extremely resentful, dismissive, and irritable.

7. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Really unfulfilled, listless. Without that companionship, they would never develop into people capable of meaningful relationships. I think both of them are very independent. Zim may claim he likes an audience, but there's an undeniable anxiety that he gets when faced with judgement. If it's anything but unwaveringly positive, he becomes delusional and creates a fantasy world in which everyone loves him, and the situation was just an initial misinterpretation. Gaz would have good friends, I think, but accepting Zim and his oddities and realizing she genuinely relates to someone who knows everything about her (via her brother + proximity + time) and is still here would mean a lot to her development.

GENERAL

1. Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Zim, without a doubt. Gaz may like Zim first, but she's completely in denial about it and completely stubborn. Zim is oblivious, and also a big ass simp, so his persistence and patience eventually gets Gaz to let her guard down and accept that she has hormones, she has romantic inclinations, and apparently they've both decided Zim is it. Time to be a big girl and accept it.

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Honestly, I don't think they're the 'date' type of couple. I am probably 100% projecting since my boyfriend and I did not have an official 'date' until like 6 months into our first relationship, where we paused, turned to each other and were like 'wait is this our first date?' because we're homebodies whose idea of fun is projects. I think Zim and Gaz would hang out regularly, but it wouldn't ever be like a formal 'we are going to Bloaty's/the movies/etc as a date,' but rather 'I am going here and you are coming with me so I guess we are going together' thing. Zim doesn't get the point of a date, because if a date is by definition doing an activity together, then aren't they perpetually on a date? And Gaz isn't really a 'let's go to dinner formally' kind of person. They hang out, they go places, but it's never really a 'thing.'

3. What was their first kiss like?

I firmly believes Gaz would have to walk Zim through every aspect of physical affectionate. Zim is really wary about it, but I do think there's an instinct towards good ol' copulation, as well as a longing for positive touch after so long getting his ass whooped in the Academy, that would make him frustrated trying to figure out what this desire is. I think their first kiss is Gaz explaining to Zim, after he asks her outright what else there is after tame stuff like cuddling and hand holding, and Gaz walks him through the concept, implications, and so on until he feels ready to bravely and firmly try it.

While that does sound pretty clinical, I think actually it'd be really emotional for both of them. Zim would be really overwhelmed by how much passion is in a kiss, and Gaz would be similarly overwhelmed since, going into the relationship, she probably never anticipated Zim being interested in anything sexual, so any physical affection he expresses interest in is a surprise to her.

4. Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

I think Gaz probably would try out a few brief relationships, but never anything substantial or dramatic. Zim's never been in a relationship, so Gaz is his first everything. I do think they'd be each other's first sexual relationship, but I think Gaz would have most of her more minimal firsts with other people prior to Zim.

5. What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Zim older. I normally write Zim as the same height as Gaz, or only a little taller. Neither of them are tall. I do respect you 'short king' stans though.

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Dib hates Zim, firmly and completely, at the beginning of their relationship. It takes a lot of self-reflection, meaningful sibling discussions, and probably a few screaming matches that eventually get to the real root of the issue (Dib's ingrained fear that something would happen to Gaz, and that it'd his fault) before he came around. Zim is a big petty bitch and would gleefully antagonize him. They would never stop sniping at each other, but they'd begrudgingly (sort of) behave for Gaz. They would eventually become frenemies and bros, but they'd die and also kill each other before admitting any sort of cordiality.

Professor Membrane adores Zim, and treats him like the son he never had/always wanted, the one who wants to have long discussions about science and can keep up with the theoreticals. Gaz hates it.

The Base and Gaz are cool. They have an understanding borne from two sentient creatures who have found themselves in the position of trying to keep Zim from killing himself, killing other people, or from coming to (too much) harm. Gaz initially hates Gir, but eventually she figures out how to get him to chill out when it's important. Minimoose and her are also cool, but he creeps Gaz out a little.

7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

Zim thinks he does, but it's really just Gaz slapping her hand over his mouth before he can say something stupid, or translating whatever nonsense just came out of his mouth when he's done talking.

8. Who gets jealous easier?

Zim. Not even a question.

9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Zim. Also not even a question.

LOVE

1. Who said “I love you” first?

Gaz. Zim doesn't know what it means until she explains it. It takes him awhile to internalize it and reciprocate verbally, but Gaz is okay with that. He shows her how much he cares in other ways.

2. What are their primary love languages?

Without a doubt, Zim's is touch. Once he gets used to it, he's really greedy and possessive about proximity. Just having Gaz bump his arm is sometimes enough to set the worst of his nerves at ease.

Gaz's is acts of service. She's fine with Zim being physically clingy, but it means a lot to her how unflinching he is about protecting her, anticipating her needs, and remembering things.

3. Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Zim. Gaz hates them, but she tolerates it. Sometimes.

4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Cuddling is very frequent. Zim will just sort of shift in behind Gaz if she's playing a game and cling, and she'll just keep doing what she's doing until she's eventually done and reciprocates. Explicit PDA never happens, but Zim is very clingy and physically will plant himself between Gaz and people who he's distrustful towards.

5. Who initiates kisses?

Gaz. I think Zim would cling to her like a barnacle at every opportunity, but Zim would likely usually defer to Gaz for escalating intimacy.

6. Who’s the big and little spoon?

Zim big spoon. PAK too uncomfortable to let him be the little spoon.

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

I think just being around each other while they do projects, game, etc. would be their favorite thing to do. Sharing in hobbies without feeling pressured to be entertaining, but still feeling like their presence is valued and wanted by the other.

8. Who’s better at comforting the other?

Being a people, and having more emotional competency, Gaz is better. Zim does his best though.

9. Who’s more protective?

Zim, if we're talking about quantity. Gaz, however, if we're talking about quality. Zim screams at chihuahuas for looking at Gaz, and also does protect her from genuine threats, but he overreacts frequently. Gaz, however, would know when Zim's out of his depth and would break the spine of anything that's a threat to him.

10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical, for both. Neither of them is really used to verbal affection, whether it be giving or receiving. It's a lot more natural to be demonstrative.

11. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Me, cackling as I copy and paste this link that I imagine is from their mutual perspectives:

https://open.spotify.com/track/4nlT0Ch4qpqoS8O1RsdzjH?si=d6d8e1e19a7d4dc7

12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

There's lots, and I'm sure most of them are inside jokes, but the tops are Zimmothy + Little Gaz.

13. Who remembers the little things?

It's hard to say. Zim would retain an encyclopedic knowledge of all things Gaz, and tries to spoil her and accommodate her at every opportunity, but Gaz never forgets to pack an extra umbrella and a raincoat.

DOMESTIC LIFE

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Zim.

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

No one but their mutual 'families.' A very small, intimate ceremony. The reception though is massive, courtesy of Professor Membrane who has no idea how to separate his personal life with his public one.

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

0 kiddos. Cannot product viable, compatible DNA to produce a spawn.

4. Do they have any pets?

Does Gir count?

5. Who’s the stricter parent?

If Gir is the child, Zim. Gaz will let him get away with murder, both because she can't be bothered to control him, and also because she thinks it's funny how mad Zim gets when she lets him go wild.

6. Who worries the most?

Between Gaz "apathetic is my middle name" Membrane and Invader "I have perpetual anxiety" Zim? No idea.

7. Who kills the bugs in the house?

Gir. He eats them long before anyone can find them. But both Gaz and Zim will point out any he misses.

8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Zim fucking hates Christmas, so him and Membrane get down in a bunker for it while Dib and Gaz spend some sibling time somewhere, drinking cocoa and video chatting with the respective morons. Other holidays, they basically go wherever Professor Membrane is in the world with Dib to have a 'family' holiday.

9. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Zim doesn't sleep, but he likes the resting and the peacefulness of getting to curl around Gaz in her sleep without her leaving. So him by default.

10. Who’s the better cook?

Zim has a 'kiss the chef' apron and everything.

11. Who likes to dance?

Neither of them, but Zim does 'victory dances' compulsively.

#ZAGR #Invader Zim #asks #anaylsis #ship post #hella long #RavenFollower13 #fanfiction #Gaz #Zim #amyisherenowansweringyou

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 4 years

Text

The Great Dessert Caper

A quick fic from the Parent Trap AU I laid out a couple days ago (you don’t need to see it to read this)

Word Count: 2642

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Mociet and Remile (plus momceit and dadton)

Warnings: no warnings but some important things to know is that Janus is Remus and Virgil’s dad, Patton is Roman and Logan’s dad, and Virgil is selective mute

~~~START~~~

The last month of Logan’s summer had certainly been a strange one. First, Roman came home from camp acting strange. Then Logan learned that Roman has an identical twin brother who’s been living with Patton’s ex-husband and Roman’s father Janus, and that Roman and said twin ended up going to the same summer camp and decided to switch places! That led to Patton ushering them to New York to switch the two back (technically, Logan didn’t have to come, but curiosity had gotten the better of him and he just had to meet Patton’s ex-husband for himself). Once in New York, Logan was treated with the knowledge that Roman and Remus were trying to get Patton and his ex back together again, and uncle Emile was helping!

Logan was exhausted, so he was grateful to learn that Janus was taking the twins, Remus’s younger brother Virgil, and Janus’ (rude) fiancé on a camping trip before Patton took Roman back to California, leaving Logan, Patton, Emile, and Janus’ coffee-addicted housekeeper alone in Janus’ house for the weekend. It was Logan’s first chance for peace since Remus had taken Roman’s place returning from camp. Remy and Emile had both disappeared within two hours of the others leaving, but that didn’t bother him, it just meant a little more peace (and that he and Patton were now alone in a practical stranger’s house, but Patton had no qualms about making himself at home, so Logan let that one go).

Of course instead of the three days of peace Logan had been promised, Janus and the kids returned the very next day, sans fiancé.

From what Logan gathered while the twins were being frog-marched to Remus’ room, the twins and Virgil had spent the entirety of the trip terrorizing Janus’ fiancé until he couldn’t take it anymore and ended the engagement. It was clear on both the twins’ faces that they had no regrets, even as they ended up grounded until Roman went back to California.

Logan was currently trying to salvage what was left of his peaceful weekend by reading in the living room, as far away from where the twins were blasting Disney CDs on Remus’ old CD player as possible. Patton and Janus were outside on the balcony overlooking the lake, probably discussing how this joint-custody thing was going to work. And with Remy and Emile still gone, that left only one culprit for the hairs standing up on the back of Logan’s neck, and the acute feeling of being watched.

Still, Logan was resolute in ignoring the five-year-old as he continued his reading.

Five minutes passed and Logan was no longer reading, he stared at the page blankly as he waited for the child to get bored and leave. Weren’t five-year-olds supposed to have short attention spans? Why was this kid still staring at him?

It only took another minute for Logan to break.

“What do you want?” He asked the child, quietly so as to not attract Patton or Janus’ attention.

Virgil grinned and crawled over the back of the couch to sit next to Logan. Then he took the two folded pieces of construction paper he was carrying and spread them out over the coffee table.

The first sheet of paper featured two stick figures — one short and purple, the other tall and navy (presumably meant to represent Virgil and Logan) — going through a series of steps that appeared to be a plan to steal the desserts Logan had smelled Remy making yesterday morning from the kitchen and taking them to the twins upstairs. The second sheet featured a relatively well done schematic of the house, complete with yellow and blue stick figures to represent Janus and Patton on the balcony, red and green stick figures representing Roman and Remus in their room on the second floor, and numbers correlating to the different steps in the plans, demonstrating where in the house they would be for each step.

The whole thing was very impressive, and Logan was almost shocked at the detailed planning of the child — of course he’d already met Virgil’s father and older brother, so he was well aware of where Virgil got it from — there was only one flaw.

“I’m not helping you steal snacks for those delinquents,” Logan informed him sternly. Virgil pouted, but Logan held firm. “No, your father said they were grounded, and that includes no treats.”

Virgil’s lower lip began to wobble, and his eyes filled with tears. It was like taking a wrecking ball to Logan’s defenses.

“No, no wait!” He rushed to say. “I’m sorry! Don't cry! I’ll help you steal the desserts just don’t cry!”

Virgil instantly perked up, grabbing Logan’s hand and dragging him towards the kitchen. Logan wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified with the kid’s manipulation tactics. Clearly Roman and Remus had overthought their plan to get Patton and Janus together, obviously the only thing they needed was for Virgil to pout them into submission; Patton would have caved before Virgil’s lip even began to tremble, and Logan seriously doubted that Janus was any more adept at resisting the kid than Logan was.

Virgil stopped in the hallway just short of the kitchen and brought a pudgy finger up to his lips in a shushing motion. Logan nodded seriously because clearly this kid was a professional thief and to treat this caper as anything less than completely serious would likely get Logan blackballed in the world of children thieves (which was apparently something that was important to Logan now).

Virgil peaked around the corner into the kitchen, then quickly pulled his head back, flattening himself against the wall. After a moment of silence, Virgil motioned for Logan to take a look as well.

Logan leaned over Virgil to get a look at the kitchen. It was the same as it had been earlier when Logan made himself some tea, and had Logan’s intentions been innocent, he’s sure that the sight of Janus and Patton right outside the French doors wouldn’t have even given him a second of pause. But that was then, Logan was a criminal now, and as such, he was grateful that both of the adults had their backs turned and didn’t see Virgil and Logan looking at them. Janus and Patton were standing rather close together — much closer than they really needed to be to discuss custody — and Logan wondered idly if the twins’ plan was working. Glancing down at Virgil, Logan realized that he wouldn’t mind if Patton and Janus got together, having two more brothers might not be that bad.

Virgil held his finger to his lips again and slowly crept into the kitchen. Logan followed behind him, keeping a careful eye on the adults outside. Virgil snuck up to the fridge and carefully pulled the door open, the seal made a noise, and the door squeaked a little, but neither sound was loud enough to draw attention to them. Virgil pointed to the top shelf of the fridge, and Logan realized what his part of the caper was: the desserts were stored too high for Virgil to reach them on his own.

With one last glance at the men on the balcony, Logan stepped up to the fridge. First, he got down a Tupperware of cookies which he carefully placed in Virgil’s arms. Virgil continued to stare at him expectantly, so Logan proceeded to grab both the Tupperware of cupcakes and the plate of cinnamon rolls as well. Virgil gave a satisfied nod, so Logan closed the fridge, sent one last look at their dads, and followed the child out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

The door to Remus’ room was wide open — no doubt because both the twins were of the mindset that when they’re grounded it’s their job to make it into everyone else’ problem — so Virgil walked right in with his stolen cookies held aloft triumphantly, Logan followed without the same gravitas.

“Way to go Vee!” Remus cheered as Roman took the Tupperware from Virgil and offered the five-year-old the first cookie. “You got the nerd involved!”

“Careful, or I might just go tell Patton and Janus what the three of you are up to,” Logan threatens, with no real intent behind it.

“Aww come on, specs, you wouldn’t do that to Virge,” Roman teased. Virgil pouted at him for emphasis and Logan just melted further.

“No,” Logan sighed in defeat. “I wouldn’t.”

Virgil grinned and hugged Logan’s legs, and Roman let out a victorious whoop.

“Sit ‘own, Lenny,” Remus ordered. “We’re playing scrabble. You have to be on Virgil’s team.”

“Lenny?” Logan asked as he joined the twins in sitting criss-cross in front of a scrabble board. As soon as he was seated, Virgil climbed into his lap.

“Cuz Virgil is clearly the George here,” Roman explained. Ah, Of Mice and Men, got it.

Unfortunately, the rules of scrabble mean very little to everyone who wasn’t Logan, and the new rule is that any ‘word’ goes as long as you can provide a plausible definition for it. Fortunately, Virgil is more than willing to put any combination of letters that even vaguely resemble a word onto the board, and the twins were both willing to accept any fake definition Logan gave them as long as Virgil was using his pout against them.

It’s safe to say that Logan didn’t mourn the loss of his quiet weekend too much.

~~~

Patton and Janus’ conversation was going rather well if you asked Patton, it was clear that Janus was also harboring unresolved feelings. Unfortunately, right as Patton was certain that they were about to kiss was when Emile and Remy chose to come home.

“We’re back, babes!” Remy threw the porch door open, with a grin that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Back from where exactly?” Janus asked, looking for all the world like he was trying to set his friend on fire with his mind.

“We went out for a picnic,” Remy smirked.

“You left yesterday!” Patton exclaimed. It was a good thing Emile sent him texts to check in, otherwise Patton might think that his brother had gone missing!

“We had dessert afterwards.”

Patton blushed and stuttered something about not needing to know what his brother was doing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Janus watching him fondly. He wondered how he was ever going to build up the strength to leave again.

“So where are the ragamuffins?” Remy asked once the three of them had returned to the kitchen. “I’m surprised they’re so quiet.”

“Remus and Roman have been grounded,” Janus informed him. “It seems that they just didn’t get along with Marcus.”

“Oh? And where’s Marcus?” Patton had to fight to keep a grin off his face at just how smug Remy sounded.

“Probably on his way back to the city. He’s decided to pursue… other options in his life.”

“Good riddance.”

“Thank you, Remington, you’re so tactful about my feelings.” Janus rolled his eyes.

“Gurl, that guy sucked. One time I saw him throw a stick into the yard and tell Virgil to go fetch.”

“He’ll be truly missed,” Patton said, sending his most innocent look at Janus when the other turned to glare at him.

“Don’t think I don’t know what part you played in this!” Janus pointed an accusing finger at him, but Patton continued to bat his eyes, the picture of purity.

“Looks like La Femme Rouge was here!” Emile called from the living room.

“What?”

Emile entered the kitchen a moment later with two pieces of paper in his hand. On the paper were a bunch of stick figures drawings.

“I’m guessing the desserts are missing from the fridge.” Janus said, sounding exhausted.

Patton opened the fridge to find the top shelf completely devoid of sweets.

“Someone’s committed a sin-namon,” he joked

“How did the squirt reach the top shelf?” Remy asked incredulously. “He’s like this tall!” Remy waved his hand around the height of his knee.

“It looks like he got help,” Emile said, pointing to a drawing of two stick figures, one purple, one dark blue.

“And to think,” Patton said dramatically. “That my oldest son is a criminal!”

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Janus said, making his way towards the stairs. “I have to go put our criminal mastermind in jail.”

Patton chuckled and followed behind him. He had been planning on saying goodnight to the twins anyway, might as well return whatever was left of the treats to the kitchen.

The door to Remus’ room was wide open, Janus strode right in while Patton hung back at the doorway, watching his little family fondly. Roman and Remus were on the floor playing Guess Who? while Logan read a book, his back leaning against the bed. Virgil was in the bed, already asleep, which was good since it was well past his bedtime.

“Guilty of conspiracy to burgle, and tomfoolery!” Janus declared as he marched into the room.

“Objection your honor!” Remus cried out. “We’ve received no legal counsel!”

“Logan,” Janus turned to the teenager who looked a little startled. “How do your clients plead?”

“Guilty,” Logan answered immediately, much to the chagrin of the twins.

“Then I sentence them to no more sugar tonight, and veggies in their omelets in the morning. And how do you plead, Logan?”

“Guilty.”

“Then I sentence you to return your ill-gotten gains to the fridge.”

Logan nodded and started collecting the remaining sweets.

“And you, you little monster,” Janus leaned down and picked up his youngest. “Are guilty of thievery, conspiracy to burgle, and of being the cutest criminal ever, how do you plead?”

Virgil mumbled sleepily against Janus’ neck, but didn’t answer.

“Then I sentence you to one night in jail. Go to bed, boys!” Janus called as he carried Virgil to his own room.

“Night, dad!”

“Goodnight dad!”

“Brush your teeth before you go to bed,” Patton reminded them. “You wouldn’t want to get cavities from all that sugar you just ate.”

“‘Course, pops.”

“We will, padre!”

Patton smiled, he could stay here forever, with his perfect little family.

Of course they weren’t quite a family, and Patton would have to go home sooner or later, he would have to take Logan and Roman with him, and they would have to leave Janus, Remus, and Virgil behind.

“Logan, let me walk you to the kitchen. Goodnight boys!”

The boys called their good nights, and Patton closed their bedroom door.

“You just want the cookies for yourself,” Logan accused as soon as the door was closed.

“Of course!” Patton took the cookies from Logan, leaving the teen with only the cupcakes and cinnamon rolls. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yes,” Logan admitted, a blush covering his face. Patton beamed.

“Are you going to get back together with Janus?” Logan asked once the desserts were returned to the fridge. Emile and Remy were gone again, and Patton doubted that he wanted to know where they went. But Logan’s question threw him for a loop.

“It wasn’t my intention when we came here,” Patton admitted.

“But you tried to get rid of his fiancé,” Logan pointed out. “You’re just as guilty as the twins in that regard. And you wanted to look your best when you saw him again.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Patton trailed off. He gazed out the window. Outside it was dark, Janus owned a considerable amount of land, and not a house was visible except one tiny cabin on the other side of the lake. It was a beautiful home for kids, and Remus and Virgil were very lucky to have grown up here.

“I like it here,” Logan admitted quietly, reluctant to break the peace that had settled over the house.

“So do I.”

~~~END~~~

I wrote this in four hours nonstop this morning

I don’t know if I’ll write more for this AU, but if I do it probably won’t be in chronological order

I just love kid!virgil he’s so cute and no one can resist his pout

General taglist

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple

67 notes · View notes

kythed · 4 years

Text

circus mirrors & stereo hearts

sugawara koushi x reader

this one goes out to my new friend, @twat-101 :) it’s a bit long, but I hope you still like it ! sending lotsa love your way <3

synopsis: (y/n) is struggling with her mental health so her best friend suga-san invites her over to study. general chaos and dumbassery ensues.

warnings: some swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, suga’s tone deaf singing.

word count: 4,226

Koushi always kept his windows open. Always.

In the winter, this transformed his room into a tiny Antarctica, replete with stray snowflakes, but in the summer, it meant cool tradewinds cutting through the typically stifling heat, creating a little pocket of the ideal climate. You often found yourself there in these warmer months, perched on the corner of his bed, contently listening to him blithely gossip about his teammates or playing a giggly game of Connect Four rife with not so subtle cheating.

Today, a sunny August Saturday, was no different. Koushi sat cross legged on the carpet. Sprawled out across his pale blue comforter, which smelled of fresh linen and that familiar Old Spice he’d been wearing since the eighth grade, you listened to him recite a chapter from your history book, something about post World War II foreign policy. Struggling to remain attentive, however, you found yourself spiraling into those cheerless resignations of hopelessness that had been far too frequent for you lately.

“--which resulted in Europe’s economic recovery chiefly in terms of raw materials, food, and fuel. The Soviet Union soon attempted to replicate a similar plan but ultimately-- hey, (Y/N)?”

You blinked hard and sunk back into reality, turning onto your cheek to look Koushi in his big brown eyes full of rather matronly concern. “Hmm?”

“Do you know what we’re learning about right now?” he asked, sounding both amused and disapproving. A strand of grey fell in front of his face and he quickly blew it away, smiling slightly. “Because it seems like you’ve been zoning out for the last ten or so minutes. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but Mr. Shishido specifically said this chapter was going to be on the test.”

“Uh… something about muzzer Roosia?” you joked with an exaggerated accent.

Koushi rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead. You yelped and glared at him reproachfully. “We were talking about the Marshall Plan. The United States’ recovery aid program for Western Europe after wartime devastation.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” you protested as Koushi tugged on your forearms and you toppled off the bed, nearly landing right on top of him. With a soft laugh, he extracted his limbs from yours and plopped his head into your lap like he used to when you were kids, resting beneath the boughs of that little oak tree in his backyard, listening to a choir of cicadas croon under a late afternoon sun. The ghost of a grin flitted over your face as you looked back on those halcyon days of your childhood. Usually Koushi’s mom would come out onto the porch with a couple of already-melting lemon popsicles in hand, and the two of you would scramble out of each other’s embrace and tear towards her, breathlessly racing for a priceless reward of sweet smiles and sticky hands.

What you wouldn’t give to go back to that time of gleeful oblivion, before your world became characterized by that all too persistent self-consciousness and excruciating anxiety. What you wouldn’t give to once again feel worthy of Koushi’s innocent adoration…

“--(Y/N)!”

For the second time today, you shook yourself awake. Koushi gazed up at you, brows furrowed. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you needed to take a little study break. Obviously, you do. I swear, your attention span gets shorter every day.” He pointed somewhere behind you. “Mind grabbing my phone? It’s on the bed.”

You leaned over as far as you could without disturbing Koushi’s position, head still nestled in your lap, and swept your hand over the covers before it bumped into his phone, which you promptly snatched and dropped onto his stomach. He gave a soft “oomph” at the impact before pulling up his Spotify and selecting a playlist, the cover of which was a selfie of the two of you at last year’s spring carnival. A blurred sakura tree provided the perfect backdrop for your smiling faces pressed cheek-to-cheek to fit in the frame. Sugar dusted the corners of Koushi’s mouth, the last trace of the powdered donut you’d shared right before.

“What’s that? I don’t think I’ve listened to that one before.” You reached for the phone, but Koushi held it out just out of reach as music began to play, batting your hand away. “I look awful in that picture; you could’ve chosen something a little more flattering.”

“Oh, shush. You looked pretty that day, wearing that blue sundress with the little flowers on the hem… blue really suits you, you know.” Koushi smiled fondly at his screen, and you blushed despite yourself. “It’s a compilation of all our songs. I listened to this a lot last summer when you were in France with your family for a month. Whenever I missed you. You were off climbing the Eiffel Tower or making croissants and I was lounging around here, bored out of my mind and wishing you were home so we could be bored together.”

“You sappy bastard,” you said, though you really felt quite touched. “I didn’t even realize we had a song.”

“Not just a song,” he corrected. “Songs. Plural. Most of the songs we’ve ever listened to together, I reckon. Anything that reminds me of you, I put on here.”

“Why in the world would you do that?” you asked, aghast at his effort.

Koushi laughed at your surprise. “You’re my best friend, (Y/N). And believe or not, you mean a lot to me. I just like remembering the stuff we’ve done together.”

You nodded slowly, letting your fingers rest on his forehead and gently play with his grey locks. His eyes closed as you settled into a brief, comfortable almost-silence, tainted only by the soft, muffled melody trickling from tiny phone speakers. You cocked your head. “What song is this?”

“You don’t remember?” Koushi asked, sounding almost offended. He turned the volume up a few notches and held the phone closer to your ear.

Let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

You got the healing that I want

Just like they say it in the song

Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

“I don’t know if--” you cut off as it dawned on you. “Wait… no way. This isn’t…?”

“It is.” Koushi laughed as your face flushed a vivid crimson. “Uchimura’s party.”

Though embarrassed, you grinned, remembering that night. “The song that played at her twelfth birthday while we were in the closet during seven minutes in heaven.”

“We were way too young for that dumb game,” Koushi said with a smile, shaking his head. “God, I was so nervous. That was my first kiss, you know.”

“It was mine too,” you admitted. You remembered sitting on the carpeted floor of Uchimura’s rather cramped closet, knees touching, just barely able to see the outline of Koushi’s face illuminated by the smallest sliver of light shining through a crack in the door. He’d leaned forward, taking your hand in his own small clammy one. “It was really just a peck, though. It might not have counted.”

“It counted,” said Koushi firmly. “Whenever I get asked about my first kiss, I say it was ours. I say it was the best one I’ve ever had, too.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Now, I know that’s a lie. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

“Neither did I,” agreed Koushi. He caught your eye, crinkling his nose cutely. “That’s what made it so sweet. It was innocent. I tasted your bubblegum chapstick on my lips afterwards.”

“Bubblegum chapstick, huh?” You rolled your eyes and poked him softly in the ribs. “I couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for like three weeks after that.”

“I remember. You kept running away whenever I tried to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not sure we would’ve even stayed friends if Ms. Miyato hadn’t partnered us up for the volcano project at the end of that month.” You recalled those afternoons spent in Koushi’s kitchen, newspapers covering every visible surface and a huge, paper-mache volcano resting on the dining table, splattered with orange and yellow paint and smelling strongly of Elmer’s glue and vinegar. Oftentimes, work sessions would dissolve into paint fights, staining your school uniforms with small, colorful hand prints.

“Nah,” said Koushi confidently. “I wouldn’t have let you go that easily.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you said under your breath.

Koushi stared at you for a second, sighing. Then he reached up to grasp your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and softly stroking his thumb across your palm. “You know, it was Uchimura’s eighteenth last weekend. You didn’t come.”

“Yeah. I had to study.” That was a lie. You just hadn’t thought anyone really wanted you there. Uchimura had been a friend of yours for years, but she had plenty of other friends to celebrate with. Probably didn’t even notice you weren’t there…

“She asked me where you were,” Koushi continued. “I said I didn’t know because you didn’t answer my texts that night.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, avoiding eye contact. “Studying.”

“On a Friday night?” You didn’t answer, and Koushi squeezed your hand. “I had to choose Daichi for my charades partner… do you have any idea how shit he is at charades? He flopped on the ground and started convulsing, so I guessed ‘epilepsy.’ Guess what the word really was.”

“What?”

“Orgasm. The word was orgasm. You’d think he could just execute a simple pelvic thrust and make a face, but no, he had to go ahead and act like my great uncle Kaito when he had that heart attack at his ninety-fifth birthday last year.”

You cracked a small smile, imagining Daichi violently wiggling on the floor like a fish out of water. “Sounds like I missed out, then.”

“You really did,” said Koushi, eyes twinkling. He suddenly got solemn. “I missed you. Would’ve been a million times more fun with you there.”

“I doubt it.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, smile fading. “I can be a real killjoy sometimes.”

“Not to me,” said Koushi. “Whenever you walk into the room, suddenly that’s the only room I wanna be in.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly. “Koushi… why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply. He took your hand again, the one that had been playing with his hair, and held it to his chest. You felt his heart beat erratically beneath your palm. “You’ve been avoiding all our friends in general.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, though your heart sank. He had noticed. You wished you didn’t have to drag him into all your problems. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what, (Y/N)? Homework? Our physics teacher came and talked to me at my locker after school, asking if you’ve been struggling with any personal issues, because apparently you haven’t been turning in your assignments.” Koushi glanced up at you. “It seems like you’ve just been locked away in your room whenever you’re not in class. Not doing work, not going out. Remember a couple weeks ago, when I asked if you wanted to go see that movie with me at the drive-in? You said you had a family dinner in town, but later I passed by on my bike and your bedroom light was on. And today, it took four separate phone calls before you finally picked up and I managed to invite you over… I’ve been worried.”

“Maybe I’m just changing,” you protested weakly. “That’s a thing that happens. People change.”

“I agree, you have been changing. Just not for the better.” Koushi squeezed your hand again, his skin warm on your own. “I haven’t seen you smile, really smile, for ages. You’re always faking these days. What’s going on?”

“I…” you trailed off, trying to think of some excuse. The last thing you wanted was for Koushi to see what was really going on inside your head.

“The truth, (Y/N).”

You relented, shoulders sagging. “Just been tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of…” Your eyes grew moist despite your best efforts and you fought to keep from choking on the sob rising up your throat.

“Tired of…?” he pressed on, eyebrow raised.

Your next words tumbled out in a rush. “Just tired of being me, okay? It’s like… it’s just like, whenever I look in the mirror… I don’t like what I see. I don’t like myself, so I don’t want to be me anymore. I’m so tired of it. And I feel like everyone else is, too. Everyone is tired of my shit, so I thought I’d just do you all a favor and disappear.”

Your words stunned Koushi into silence. He remained resting in your lap for a few long seconds before he felt something hot and wet roll down his cheek. A tear. But not his own.

He looked up just in time for another one of your tears to land on his face, right underneath his eye. Quickly, he sat up and tenderly cupped your face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, (Y/N)... c’mere. That’s such bullshit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccupped as he pulled you into his lap by your waist-- facing him-- and gingerly tucked your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s gross, I know.”

“It’s not gross,” said Koushi, fiercely hugging you to his chest. “It’s much better than watching you try to pretend like you’re fine. I don’t care if your snot gets on my shirt-- that’s a small price to pay. So long as I can be there for you right now.”

You cried harder, immense guilt racking your body at his inexplicable kindness. “I’ve been treating you terribly these past few months, but you’re still so good to me. Goddamnit, Koushi. I don’t deserve you.”

Koushi pulled you back by the shoulders, narrowed eyes searching your face, though tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “(Y/N). You don’t have to earn my love.”

“I-- love?” you asked, eyes wide. You snatched a tissue from Koushi’s bedside table and blew your nose loudly.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, without missing a beat. “I said it. I love you. And don’t ask if I mean in a friend way or a girlfriend way, because the answer is neither. I love you like you’re the person I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care if that means as, like, your husband or just as your best friend. Whatever I can get, I’m happy with, because I love you like you’re a part of me. Unconditionally. I thought you knew that.”

“Please, don’t say that,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands. “I’m not good enough for you. I’m really not.”

Koushi pulled your hands away so he could look you in the eye. “What don't you understand about the term ‘unconditional love’? It’s unconditional. There is literally nothing you nor anyone else can say or do to change that. Unconditional love is not a feeling, it’s a choice, and I’ve made that choice. I’ve had nearly two decades to think about it, so now I’m telling you I will love you no matter what. I always have, alright? This isn’t exactly how I wanted to say it, but it’s true.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. You hadn’t known he’d felt this way. Of course, you two had been partners-in-crime your entire lives, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d materialized at your side as soon as you were in the slightest bit of trouble. Whenever you were a dollar short at the canteen, he’d stuff a five in your hand and push you towards the front of the line. That time you went camping with his family and you forgot your sleeping bag, he’d given you his and spent the night shivering. He always carried an extra pen for you because yours often inexplicably ran out of ink in the middle of a test. He’d been there for every crush, boyfriend, and breakup, cheering you on and drying your tears when the time came. He’d been there when your pet dog died and you planned a funeral in your backyard, complete with a little cardboard headstone, holding an umbrella above your head when it began to rain but you weren’t done mourning. He’d just always been there when you needed him.

You’d tried to be there for him, too, because, as you had begun to realize, his pain was your pain and vice versa. That time when you were six and he’d lost his favorite stuffed animal (a giraffe) it had felt like you’d lost yours too. That day in junior high when he fell out of the oak tree trying to retrieve a stray frisbee and broke his arm, you swore you felt the same pain in yours. Last year when he got dumped outside the gym on Valentine’s Day and you found him sitting in a corner, trying to hide the fact he’d obviously been crying-- you’d stayed late to crack stupid jokes and eat the chocolate he meant to give to his girlfriend, because he deserved a girl who would eat the damn chocolate. Not stomp on his heart and leave it to bleed. I love you like you’re a part of me. You understood.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes, but it’s not okay to bundle it all up and bury it deep inside when you have someone right next to you wanting to help you bear that burden.” Koushi’s voice shook just slightly. “It just… it hurts to see you like this, okay? (Y/N), if you love me back, then let me help you. Let me be there for you. Please.”

You were silent for a moment, staring into his pleading eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes.

Then you took a deep breath and started laughing through the tears. You were sure you looked insane, puffy eyes, red nose, and mascara running down your cheeks, but it didn’t matter. “I do. I love you, too. I love you. I didn’t know I loved you before, but now I do, because if you were torn away from me that heartbreak would probably kill me. No, it would definitely kill me. And it would hurt like a motherfucker while it did.”

Koushi let out the breath he’d been holding then, after a brief pause, began to laugh with you as you laced your arms around the back of your neck. “Oh, yeah? Well, losing you would probably hurt like a father-fucker to me.”

“Is that worse than a motherfucker?” you asked, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all. Here you were, bawling on the floor of your best friend’s room while you confessed your love to one another and cussed each other out at the same time.

“For sure. It’s a million times worse than a motherfucker. It’s like, if something hurting like a motherfucker is the equivalent of getting shot by a Nerf gun, something hurting like a fatherfucker probably feels like getting run over by a tank.” Koushi intertwined his fingers with yours yet again and smiled.

“You’re a dumbass,” you said, but you laughed anyways as Koushi looked proud of himself.

“I know,” he said softly, affectionately. “But I’m your dumbass.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I’d love you to be. But you could still do so much better than me--”

“Will you stop saying that, already?” Koushi took your face in his hand, stroking his thumb right beneath your eye. “You’re the most radiant person I’ve ever met. Notice how I didn’t say ‘beautiful’ because the word beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Although you are that, too.”

“Oh, goodness. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again-- you’re so sappy.”

Koushi rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I am. You like it though.”

“You caught me,” you said as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it, savoring the warmth of his lips on your skin. “I do.”

“But really, (Y/N),” he said seriously. “It astounds me that you don’t realize that.”

“Don’t realize what?”

“That you’re cool! You’re so cool and fun and awesome. And a zillion other adjectives I could sit here and list out for hours. You’re the only person who can make me laugh when I cry, and you make the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, and you’re a literal god at Mario Kart, and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever had the privilege to look into.” You flushed as Koushi thought for a moment, chewing on his lip before his eyes widened. “It’s kinda like a circus mirror, I think.”

“What?” You furrowed your brow.

“The way you see yourself is like someone looking into one of those circus mirrors. It makes you look too tall, or really squished, or just bent out of shape in general. And if that was the only mirror you’d ever looked into, you’d probably think that ugly, distorted reflection is how you actually look in real life. You can’t see yourself for how amazing you really are-- but everyone else can.”

“Well, aren’t you just full of relevant analogies today?” you teased. A circus mirror. Now that was something new. You had to give Koushi credit for the comparison-- it actually did kind of make sense.

“What can I say?” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m a poet.”

“So I guess that would make you my real mirror then?” you offered shyly. Koushi looked confused for a second. “If the way I see myself is supposedly ‘distorted,’ then you can reflect to me how I supposedly really am.”

“Oh, yes!” he said happily. “I’m the mirror. I like that. Quit talking like you don’t believe me, though. You’re incredible. A little thick-skulled sometimes, yes, but incredible nonetheless.”

“It’s going to be hard for me,” you said quietly, gently running a hand through his hair. “Really hard. I haven’t liked myself for a long time.”

“I know. I know. But someday, you’ll be able to understand what a beautiful human being you are. I’m sure of it. I need you to promise you won’t give up until that happens.”

He held out his pinky for a pinky swear, something you two did frequently as children. You smiled and laced your pinky with his. “Alright. I promise.”

“Good.” Koushi stood up, brushed the wrinkles from his pants, and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you up. “Listen. Do you remember this song?”

His little playlist had been playing this entire time. You hadn’t noticed. You strained to catch the lyrics. “Turn it up a little, I can’t quite hear.”

...a stereo

It beats for you, so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every note

“Koushi.” A slow smile spread across your face. “Tell me this isn’t Stereo Hearts.”

“Oh, this is Stereo Hearts alright!” he responded gleefully. He took your hand and spun you around like a ballroom dancer, catching you before you tripped over his bedside table. “You remember when we--”

“When we performed it at the junior high talent show and got booed off the stage?” You giggled, remembering that awful night that was somehow hilarious in retrospect. “I still have nightmares about that.”

Koushi continued to swing you around in some sort of clumsy dance, pulling you this way and that while you laughed wildly. “It’s ‘cause you were such a shit singer.”

You gasped in mock offense. “No way! You’re a much worse singer than I am. At least I can carry a tune.”

Koushi just rolled his eyes and grabbed a hairbrush from his shelf, using it like a microphone. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and began to serenade you in his terrible, tone-deaf manner.

Make me your radio

Turn me up when you feel low

This melody was meant for you

Just sing along to my stereo

“God, you really do suck at this,” you said, but he just smiled and kept singing. You had to admit, it was sweet. As silly as the memory associated with the song was, it remained a nostalgic favorite even now. You had to join in a few times, just for memory’s sake.

I only pray you never leave me behind

Because good music can be so hard to find

Koushi sat down next to you and wound one arm around your waist, leaning close.

I take your hand and pull it closer to mine

Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind

You turned and leaned in too, nearly touching noses.

“Hey,” he said in an almost whisper. “(Y/N) (L/N), I love you.”

“Hey,” you whispered back, gaze flitting down to his lips and back up again. “I love you, too, you sappy bastard.”

...so sing along to my stereo

“I know.” He closed the remaining inch of distance. Your hand tangled itself in his hair while his tugged your body a little closer.

The kiss was almost as good as the one in Uchimura’s closet all those years ago. Almost.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #anime #sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader

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rewritethestars5218 · 4 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 4

I wrote this in the span of 3 hours. I don’t guarantee any type of quality lol.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163078/chapters/71890002

______________________

Don't Try to Pin This On Me

The sparring match had been Legend’s idea.

The group was enjoying a much-needed break in Warriors’ Hyrule.

Legend and Warriors were tasked with collecting firewood. Wild volunteered to go with them since he needed to catch some fish and gather some extra ingredients.

Legend and Warriors started their usual bickering about 30 minutes into their little excursion, something having to do with training.

Wild wasn't paying attention, opting instead to walk the river bank looking for fish.

"You know it wouldn't hurt you to get a little extra training now and again," Wild heard Warriors claim.

"Not all of us are as obsessed with having perfect fighting form, pretty boy," Legend argued.

"That's because most of you haven't had any formal training," Warriors countered.

"Please. Both Sky and Wild have had 'formal training,' and you don't see them obsessing over it like you do. I bet if you sparred with Wild right now, he would do just as well as you."

Wild cringed.

"Hey Wild, do me a favor and knock this pretty boy down a few pegs," Legend implored.

Wils slowly turned around, his annoyance on full display. "Don't drag me into your little squabble."

"Come on! I'm tired of this prick continually going on about how we should all train more. Prove him wrong, and I'll lend you my fire rod for a week."

Wild's eyebrow shot up. He glanced at Warriors, who just shrugged. "I'm down for a sparring session," he offered.

Normally Wild made a point to stay out of any bets Warriors and Legend made with each other, but the vet's offer proved to be too tempting to pass up.

Wild sighed and grabbed his slate. After a few swipes, a royal guard's sword and a soldier's shield materialized in his hands.

Wild discovered after his first sparring session with Warriors that, while he didn't remember his days as a royal knight, the training he received had stayed with him.

He stunned the entire group when he was able to go blow to blow with the captain.

It wasn't that they didn't think Wild was a capable fighter; they just were shocked to see that the kid had formal training in sword fighting.

Warriors and Wild got into position.

"Don't expect me to go easy on you," the captain ribbed.

Wild smirked. "Like I would let you."

With that, the two charged each other, the clanging sound of their blades cutting through the air.

Legend always got a kick at watching Wild spar, especially when it was with Warriors and Sky.

The kid had some goddess-given talent when it came to fighting, something that seemed to clash with his gremlin nature.

The kid was terrifying in a fight, and it was because of the unconventional methods he used while fighting.

Who would have known that buried underneath that insane pyromaniac was a trained royal soldier?

Wild fell into the familiar dance quickly, his footwork and sword skills matching Warriors effortlessly.

Wild managed to land a couple of solid hits, putting Warriors on the defensive.

Growling in frustration, the captain upped his game, his strikes coming quicker and with more force than before.

Neither realized just how close they had gotten to the riverbank.

Wild smiled as a familiar feeling washed over him. He knew, deep down, the old him enjoyed the thrill of sparring with someone his equal.

As he lunged forward with his sword, he suddenly found himself recalling a moment long ago, his hair cut short, his face unscarred as he fought a fellow soldier along the same riverbank.

It was rare that Wild recalled a memory during a fight, but maybe because this wasn't a life or death battle, his brain decided it was a good time to drift to a time long before the Calamity struck.

The flashback only lasted a few seconds, but it was plenty of time for him to drop his guard.

Warriors had side-stepped away from Wild's attack. He brought up his shield and swung it towards Wild, fully expecting the champion to dodge or block the familiar move.

Instead, Wild just stood there, allowing his sword to drop slightly. By the time Warriors realized something was wrong, it was too late.

His shield collided with the side of Wild's head, the momentum sending Wild careening over the riverbank and into the rushing waters.

Legend cursed as he took off towards the riverbank, totally confused at what he just witnessed.

By the time Warriors wrapped his head around what just happened, Legend had appeared to his side.

"What the fuck was that?" Legend barked as he scanned the water for any sign of their fallen friend.

Warriors was too stunned to answer. Wild had countered that attack easily in the past.

Legend yelled Wild's name, shaking the captain out of his thoughts.

Suddenly Legend was in the water, his attention locked on the familiar blue bobbing in the water.

Warriors ran down the shoreline, keeping pace with Legend.

Legend reached out desperately, snagging Wild's tunic. He pulled the champion close to him, biting back the paralyzing worry when he realized Wild was out cold.

Legend struggled to keep his grip on Wild as he attempted to swim towards shore.

Thankfully, a strong hand reached out and grabbed him, and he felt himself being dragged towards the shore.

The second they could stand, both Legend and Warriors pulled Wild out of the river and laid him on his back on the rocky shore.

Warriors ran a hand through his wet hair, still trying to process what just happened as Legend checked to see if Wild was breathing.

"I swear Legend...I didn't mean to hit him that hard," Warriors stammered. "I thought....he normally..."

"Now's not the fucking time," Legend barked as he tried desperately to hear if the champion was breathing.

Wild almost immediately started coughing up the water he inhaled to Legend's relief, and the vet quickly rolled him on his side.

Now that Wild was out of the water, Legend could see blood start to run down the side of his face.

"Go grab a potion from your pack" Legend ordered.

"...I don't have my pack," Warriors gasped, suddenly realizing he left it at camp.

"What the fuck, Wars!" Legend spat.

"Well, did you bring yours?!" Warriors yelled.

Legend's eyes went wide when he realized he didn't have his with him either.

Legend cursed under his breath as he unhooked Wild's slate from his belt.

"He HAS to have a freaking potion or something in this damn slate," Legend growled as he frantically tried to figure out how to get to the champion's inventory.

He finally found where Wild usually kept his potions and fairy's but saw that he was out.

Warriors had pulled off his scarf and wrapped Wild's head with it, temporarily stopping the bleeding.

"What the hell do we do? Is it safe to carry him back to camp?" Warriors finally asked.

"How the fuck should I know. I'm not Hyrule," Legend snapped. "Did you really need to hit him that hard??"

Warriors shot him a seething look. "This was your idea to begin with," he scolded.

"Don't you put this on me," Legend argued back. "I didn't realize you were going to bash your shield into his head!"

Warriors felt his anger fizzle out as his face dropped.

Legend mumbled another curse under his breath when he realized his words hit below the belt. He knew damn well Warriors didn't go out to hurt Wild intentionally.

"Sorry," the vet mumbled. "That was a shitty thing to say."

Warriors looked away from the vet for a second before his eyes went wide.

He turned back to Legend. "There's a shrine next to the camp!" he declared.

Legend narrowed his eyes. "Yeah...so?"

"Warriors quickly snatched the slate out of Legend's hands. "Wild can teleport to the shrines using the slate. That's how we are getting him back to camp.

Legend's eyes went wide. "Fuck that. I don't trust that damn thing!"

"Do you have a better idea?!" Warriors demanded. "Cause I don't."

Legend growled in frustration. He hated to admit it, but it was their best option.

Before Legend could say anything, Warriors was already tapping the slate.

Warriors was so grateful he had Wild show him how the slate worked early into their travels.

He placed his hand on Wild's shoulder as he looked towards Legend.

"Grab my arm," he ordered.

Legend reluctantly complied. Before he knew it, he felt himself levitate slightly as the world around them disappeared into a flash of blue. ------------------------------------ Their sudden appearance at the shrine sent the whole camp into a frenzy.

Thankfully, a red potion and some much-needed healing from Hyrule all but healed Wild's injury.

The champion had yet to wake up, but Hyrule assured them he would be fine.

To Legend and Warriors' surprised, Time didn't seem angry about the impromptu sparring match. He was more concerned about Wild spacing out in the middle of the fight.

"I wonder if he had a flashback," Twilight offered after hearing the whole story.

"Maybe, but he's never had one before while he was fighting. I wonder what made today so different."

Twilight shrugged. They would have to ask Wild when he woke up IF he even remembered what happened. ------------------------------------- Wild woke up just before sunset.

Thankfully, outside a headache, he seemed to be fine.

Legend looked up while everyone was getting ready for bed to see that Warriors had disappeared.

Sighing, he stood up and looked at Time, who simply nodded as if he already knew what Legend was going to do.

He started walking towards the treeline. It didn't take him long to find Warriors sitting against a fallen tree, lost in thought.

Legend took a deep breath. He was never good at comforting people.

Warriors glanced back towards him slightly, letting Legend know the captain was well aware of his presence.

"You didn't strike me as the type to sulk around," Legend began.

Warriors didn't say anything, which only made Legend angry. Maybe it was because it made the vet feel guilty. It had been his birdbrain idea, after all.

"Listen, how long are you going to sit out here feeling sorry for yourself?" he finally said.

Warriors tensed up but didn't look back. "As long as I fucking want..."

Legend groaned in frustration. He walked the rest of the way to Warriors and sat next to him.

"Look, shit happen," Legend offered. "No one blames you for what happened. It was a freak accident, nothing more."

"Doesn't make me feel any less of an asshole," Warriors countered.

"Hey, as you said, it was my stupid idea. If anyone gets to feel guilty about today, its me."

"Goddesses, you two will literally argue about anything."

Both Warriors and Legend spun around to see Wild standing behind them.

"What the hell are you doing up?" Legend questioned as Wild took a seat next to them.

"I told the others I needed to get some air," Wild answered. "I know they mean well, but sometimes the attention gets to be a little too much to deal with."

Before Legend or Warriors could respond, Wild kept talking.

"Look, what happened today was NOT your fault," Wild said, directing the comment at both of them.

"While we were sparring, I had a flashback," Wild continued. "As far as I know, I have never had a flashback while I was fighting. Maybe it was because it was just a simple sparring match, but there was no way either of you would have known that would happen, so please, stop trying to take the blame for something you two had no control over."

Warriors shook his head. "No, I took it too far. I didn't need to go at you as hard as I did."

Wild scoffed. "I went at you just as hard. Would you blame me if the role would have been reversed?"

Warriors didn't answer, and Wild knew he made his point.

The champion turned his attention to Legend.

"And you...last I checked, both Wars and I had free will. Either of us could have told you to piss off, but deep down, we both were itching to spar."

Legend mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, reluctantly conceding Wild's point.

"I can't believe you managed to teleport me back to camp," Wild continued.

"That was all his idea," Legend said as he pointed at Warriors. "He's the one who knew how."

"I also heard you went with," Wild continued, smirking at Legend. "I thought you said you would never use that "magic teleporting bullshit."

Legend felt himself get flustered. "It wasn't like we had much of a choice."

Wild's smirk widened. "And it wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was fucking horrible," Legend complained. "I don't understand how you can tolerate it."

Wild shrugged, "Maybe I'm made of tougher stuff."

Legend finally cracked and shoved Wild.

"Careful now, I'm injured, remember?" Wild laughed

"Too bad Warriors didn't knock some sense into you," Legend snarked, causing both Warriors and Wild to chuckle.

"Come on," Wild coaxed. "If we don't get back to camp soon, Twilight is going to sick Wolfie on us."

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #febuwhumpday4 #linked universe #linked universe wild #linked universe wind #linked universe four #linked universe sky #linked universe hyrule #linked universe legend #linked universe twilight #linked universe time

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subarublue · 4 years

Text

Sparda Family Bonding Time Series - Part 2

Series Description: It’s family bonding time! Sparda family style! A series of short stories revolving around platonic familial relationships between the members of the DMC crew. Warning: Lots of fluff and bonding ahead.

One Shot

Title: The Apple Never Falls Far From the Tree

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC5

Rating: G

Word Count: 3450

Read on Ao3

Summary: Dante gave his brother a pointed stare that clearly stated: Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Which Vergil pointedly ignored as he turned his eyes elsewhere. Dante sighed.

They hadn’t been back from the underworld for long and this was the first chance Vergil really had to try and connect with his son...and of course he was getting cold feet.

Notes: Not too sure I’m any good at writing Vergil, but hopefully this turned out okay. Sorry if he’s a bit ooc.

Dante watched his brother closely. To anyone else at the table, Vergil probably looked calm, stoic, detached even. But Dante knew better. They were brothers, after all; twins in fact. Yeah, sure there was about a twenty year span of no contact between them (no, Dante did NOT count Mallet Island), but they did grow up together as children. Nobody knew Vergil better than him.

And Dante could tell that Vergil was nervous.

It was in the way he gripped the fork in his hand so tightly, his rigid posture, the way his eyes kept darting around the room, taking in his surroundings as if keeping all escape routes open even though it was unnecessary...until they landed on Dante himself.

Dante gave his brother a pointed stare that clearly stated: Isn’t there something you should be doing right now? Which Vergil pointedly ignored as he turned his eyes elsewhere. Dante huffed.

They hadn’t been back from the underworld for long and this was the first chance Vergil really had to try and connect with his son...and of course he was getting cold feet.

Dante supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, considering it was more than just the two of them and Nero sitting down to dinner. Neither of the brothers were the best at communicating, but Vergil was definitely worse considering his lack of experience. Especially since there were others present that he didn’t know very well.

Not that he knew Nero very well, either. Which is probably why he’d grilled Dante for information about his own son while they were stuck in Hell.

“What is Nero like?” Vergil’s question drew Dante’s attention to him. They were currently resting; no devils had found it necessary to try and kill them over the last few hours and sparring, as much as they enjoyed it, did get a bit old after a while. Honestly, Dante figured Vergil would ask eventually, since he couldn’t really discern that for himself now that they were stuck until they found a way home.

“Thought you got a pretty good taste of that already when he beat you.” Dante chuckled when Vergil shot him a glare.

“I meant under normal circumstances.” Vergil already sounded annoyed. Dante figured if he kept this up, it wouldn’t be long before they were fighting again.

“You mean when he’s not pissed at you?” Dante chuckled again when another glare came his way.

“As I recall, he was angry with you as well.”

Dante grimaced as he rubbed his chin, recalling the punch Nero had decked him with. He swore he could still feel it. “Yeah? Well, can you blame him? Kid grew up without any family and once he has one, seems like they’re just trying to kill each other. Course he’s gonna be pissed.”

“So…he grew up alone?” There was the slightest bit of regret laced in Vergil’s question.

Dante sighed. “Sort of.” Vergil turned to regard him as he spoke. “He grew up in an orphanage. Guess he got left there as a baby with no idea who his parents were. Not completely sure about the whole situation ‘cause I didn’t run into him until he was almost twenty. When we did meet, he had a girlfriend and she and her brother treated Nero like family, so I don’t think he was completely alone.”

Vergil looked at him confused for a moment and Dante could tell there was a question on his mind, about to be asked. “Who taught him swordsmanship, then? I thought perhaps you had, but he’s far too good to have learned since only twenty.”

“Ah, that would be Credo.” When Dante didn’t elaborate, Vergil knew he would have to ask since the name was unfamiliar to him.

“Who?”

“His girlfriend’s brother. He was the head of the Knights of the Order of the Sword at the time or something like that. Like I said, those two treated the kid like family.”

“I see.” Vergil looked away, becoming pensive for a moment. “Well, this Credo has been a good teacher for him, then.”

“Was.” When Dante spoke, Vergil turned to look at him in surprise. “He was a good teacher.”

“He is...” Vergil paused going through the various reasons for Dante’s choice of words in his head before deciding on the most likely one. “...dead?”

“Yeah.” It was hard to miss the frown on Dante’s face. It was so different from his normal countenance. “Died trying to save his sister and Nero from some crazed old maniac trying to use the bloodline of our dad for some idiotic world domination plan. That’s how the kid and I first met. I was there trying to stop the old dude. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it in time to save Credo. Nero or Kyrie either, but at least they were needed alive, so I was able to save them later. Guess the old fart thought his own general was expendable, though. Pretty sure the kid still blames himself for that one.”

Vergil went quiet after that, not saying anymore. Apparently, Dante had given him a few things to ponder on for a while.

That had been the first of many conversations about Nero they’d had while trapped in the underworld. Dante of course, hadn’t told Vergil everything, figuring that it would be better for him to discover some things about his son for himself, but he’d given him a start to grasp onto.

Now if only he’d take it.

Perhaps dinner at Nero’s wasn’t the best time to try and get Vergil to talk to his own son. There were too many other people for it to be comfortable to talk about something so personal. Dante only hoped that once dinner was finished Vergil wouldn’t try to beat a hasty retreat to one of those escape routes he seemed to be constantly looking for.

It was when Kyrie stood up to start clearing the table that Dante saw an opportunity. Nero usually helped her with it, but if someone else did…

“Here let me give you a hand with that, Kyrie.” Dante jumped up and immediately started helping her clear away the dirty dishes. This wasn’t exactly his style, but if it gave his brother some time to talk to his son in private, then he’d make an exception. Just this once, though.

“No! That’s alright! You’re a guest here. There’s no need for you to do that! Nero always-” She stopped short when she noticed Dante was covertly gesturing for her to look over her shoulder. When she turned, she saw Vergil doing his best to avoid eye contact with Nero, who seemed to be studying his father intently, but trying to be discreet about it. Of course, he was failing miserably.

It only took a second for the light bulb to go off in Kyrie’s head and she immediately began to play along. “Oh! I mean, of course! I could sure use the help. Thank you so much!”

This drew Nero’s attention to them. Dante met his gaze, then looked at Vergil and rolled his eyes, attempting to convey to his nephew without words that his father wanted to talk, but was being a coward about it. Maybe this way, Nero would take charge instead. He knew the kid wanted to talk to his father, so maybe knowing Vergil wanted to talk to him as well would help break the ice. Luckily, it worked and Nero nodded in response.

Kyrie had just dismissed the boys from the table and Nico had already booked it back to the garage to work on her next project when Dante heard Nero address his father. “Hey, I was gonna head out back and gets some fresh air. You can join me, if you’d like?”

Vergil’s head whipped around to look at his son while Dante and Kyrie slipped away into the kitchen, but they were still listening intently from just the other side of the door.

“That is…acceptable,” was Vergil’s reply.

Dante cringed. He couldn’t see Nero and Vergil anymore, but he could see Kyrie, and she was cringing, too. The unspoken words between them were conveyed with just that look: certainly not the best choice of words, but at least he hadn’t said no.

Thankfully, Nero seemed to take it in stride. “Come on, then. It’s this way.” A few moments later, they heard the back door shut as the two men stepped out onto the porch.

Kyrie looked at him, then. “If you want to keep an eye on them, you’ll be able to see them from the window over the sink. I won’t be able to hear them from outside so there’s no worry about me being privy to anything Vergil doesn’t want others to know, but you might be able to since your hearing is better so if you’d rather give them some privacy…” she trailed off, not sure how he wanted to go about this. The dishes could wait, if need be. This was far more important.

“We can keep an eye on ‘em. If they’re quiet enough, I shouldn’t be able to pick up on what they’re saying. And if I do hear anything, it’s probably gonna be something I already know. I doubt Verg will tell Nero his whole life story the first go around, but thanks for respecting his privacy, anyway.” Dante smiled at her. Nero couldn’t have made a better choice in a girlfriend. Kyrie smiled back and they set to work on the dishes while keeping an eye on the two men now standing on the back porch.

“So...Why did you leave?”

Vergil was jarred out of his thoughts when Nero suddenly spoke. He’d been standing there, admittedly a bit nervous, trying to sort through what would be the best thing to say. But what can you say to a son you practically abandoned?

In a way it was a relief that Nero spoke up first. It gave him a foothold to start with, at least. He was a bit surprised, though. It wasn’t hard to tell that Nero was just as nervous as he was. He was almost certain they would have stood out there the whole time without saying a word.

“You already know this. Yamato was necessary to close the portal. I had no choice but to go.” He knew he probably should have said more, but the words just wouldn’t come. Why was this so difficult?

“Yeah, I know that.” Nero already sounded annoyed and Vergil realized that if he tried to keep his distance, he’d ruin this chance to connect with his son. “I meant before I was born. Why did you...leave?”

Vergil blinked in surprise. That had not been what he thought Nero was referring to, though he supposed he should not have made assumptions in the first place. Of course his son would want to know about why he was left alone as a baby. And Vergil could tell there was more left unspoken than what Nero had conveyed: Why did you leave us? Why did you leave my mother? Why did you leave me? He recalled what Dante had said about how Nero grew up. He deserved an explanation, at the very least.

“I was unaware of your existence. Not that that is an excuse, but I...I was searching for my father’s power. I couldn’t find the answers I needed in Fortuna so I left. I had to.”

The hard look on Nero’s face softened slightly and gave Vergil a bit of confidence that maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

“Why did you need your father’s power so much?” Nero was genuinely curious Vergil noted, but the reasons hit a bit too close to home for him at the moment. Someday. Someday he would tell him everything, but not now. This conversation should focus on his son, not himself.

“Because without strength, you cannot protect anything, let alone yourself.” He knew his answer was vague. They were the same words he’d spoken to his brother all those years ago, except Dante understood what he meant. He only hoped Nero wouldn’t prod further.

Nero, for his part, just looked at his father for a moment. Vergil was half afraid he would ask him to elaborate, but surprisingly, Nero seemed to understand there was a reason for his vagueness and let it slide. His son was perceptive. The barest hint of pride welled up in him and he decided he rather liked the feeling.

They were silent for a few more moments, and while it still felt a bit uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as bad as when they’d first stepped out on the porch. That was progress, he supposed.

Apparently, he was silent too long though, because Nero spoke up again, with a different question this time. “Would you have done things differently had you...known about me?”

Now how was he supposed to answer that? It was over twenty years ago. He had been young and determined. He was no longer the same person he was back then, but he feared what the true answer to that question could have been. Would things have been different if he’d known?

“I...don’t know. I’d like to think that I would have, but...” Vergil faltered, unsure of what real answer he could give Nero.

“But?” Nero prodded when he didn’t finish. He was looking at his father expectantly. Nero deserved to know the truth at least, Vergil decided, after everything he’d grown up without.

“I was young. I had a goal and nothing was going to stop me from getting what I wanted, not even my brother; my own flesh and blood.” The reality of what Vergil was trying to convey seemed to hit Nero, but he remained silent, allowing his father to finish. “I can’t say for sure if there was anything that would have swayed my decisions, but I’d like to think you would have. Forgive me if that’s not enough.”

Nero stared at his father. Vergil refused to meet his eyes, worried about what he might find there. Instead he set his gaze on nothing, simply staring out into the night and braced himself for whatever his son may have had to say in response.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been enough once, but I’m okay with it now. You had your reasons, you didn’t know, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change it now. All we can do is move forward from here, I guess.”

Vergil turned in surprise to look at Nero. That was certainly not what he expected. He seemed to be a far cry from the angry young man he’d fought at the Qliphoth, but then again, that had been a rather tense situation.

Dante had warned him that Nero could be a bit hot-headed at times; that he sometimes let his emotions get the better of him and reacted without thinking. But this side of Nero, Vergil hadn’t anticipated, though it probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. This was his son, after all. Right now, he seemed far more mature than his young age would lead one to believe. That small hint of pride was swelling up within him even more now.

But there was also a deep sense of regret coupled with it. He’d missed everything. From before his son was even born until the moment he’d met him on that fateful day, he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen his son grow up over the years into the young man before him today and he felt a sudden overwhelming need to apologize for that as well.

“I’m sorry you grew up alone.”

Nero simply shrugged as if it was nothing, which Vergil knew was not the case. “I wasn’t completely alone. May not have been the best situation, but I had Kyrie and Credo so it wasn’t all bad.”

Vergil recalled what he’d heard from Dante about the two siblings that had been the closest thing to family Nero had while growing up. “Dante mentioned that this Credo taught you swordsmanship. I thought at first that perhaps Dante had, but he said you two did not meet until you were almost twenty.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Nero’s voice took on a hard edge, as did his expression. It was easy to see that thinking of his surrogate brother was still a painful memory for him. Vergil wasn’t sure he would be any good at comforting his son in this, but even he knew not trying would be a worse option.

“Dante told me what happened to him. I’m...sorry for the loss our father’s legacy has caused you.”

Nero didn’t respond and Vergil worried if maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, so he tried another approach. “He must have been a very good teacher. It shows in you.”

That got a response. Nero looked up in surprise at his father. “You...you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Giving you a false sense of accomplishment would only hinder, not help you. I may have been tired from my fight with Dante, but it was easy to see your level of skill during ours. You learned well.” Vergil smirked then. He was aware that Dante could likely hear their conversation and would never pass up an opportunity to make a jab at his brother. “Far better than you would have if Dante had taught you.”

That got a laugh out of his son. “Definitely,” Nero agreed. “Dante wasn’t very straightforward about a lot of things, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Vergil was confused now. What could Nero mean by that?

“Well, I didn’t even know he and I were related until the Redgrave incident.”

Vergil’s confusion turned to surprise. Dante had never said anything to him before that? “He never told you?”

“Not until you disappeared through that portal after you put yourself back together. Dante kinda just dropped it on me so I wouldn’t keep trying to go after you.” Nero could tell by Vergil’s expression that he wasn’t too happy with his uncle. He certainly didn’t want them fighting again and decided to try and diffuse any possible problem before it could start. “But it’s alright, I guess. Can’t change it now, anyway. Makes me not feel so guilty about stabbing him the first time we met, though.”

That threw Vergil for a loop. “You...stabbed him?” Dante had somewhat glossed over his first meeting with Nero and Vergil was now realizing there may have been a reason for that.

“Yeah well, He kinda dropped in and assassinated the head of the Order in front of the whole congregation. I was a knight under Credo’s command, so we ended up in a fight. Pretty sure he was going easy on me. Still, I impaled him with his own sword because he went a little too easy on me.” The smugness in Nero’s voice was not lost on him.

But disbelief was on Vergil’s face at first. It didn’t last long though, before Nero’s story drew a wry chuckle out of him. He recalled a certain fight with his brother during the Temen-Ni-Gru incident which bore a similar ending for Dante.

“The apple never falls far from the tree, it seems.”

Father and son looked at each other in what might have been a nice moment for the two, but was interrupted by a very familiar voice yelling, “Aw! Come on!” from the direction of the kitchen window.

It was followed by the panicked sound of Kyrie’s voice asking, “Is everything okay?!” which had both men out on the back porch chuckling. Whatever conversation went on in the kitchen after that was blocked from their hearing, but it was unimportant in the moment anyway.

A silence fell over the two of them, but now it was no longer uncomfortable. That feeling of pride in his son, for what he had endured and what kind of life he’d made for himself, was back stronger than ever and Vergil felt the sudden urge to let Nero know how he felt.

“I’m proud of who you are.” Vergil looked his son in the eyes and watched as the reality of what he’d just said dawned on his son’s face.

Nero recovered quickly though, and what he said next Vergil knew he would never forget, for as long as he lived.

“Thanks...Dad.”

Vergil looked away out into the night, afraid of the amount of emotion he might be showing in his expression. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Nero was smiling. And now, he was too.

← Part 1 • Part 2 of this series • Part 3 →

#dmc #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dadgil #dmc dante #dmc kyrie #devil may cry #my writing #suby scrawls

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cfdiamonds · 4 years

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[ ARON PIPER, CIS GENDERED MAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! LEOCADIO SYNDER, the TWENTY-TWO year old SECOND year ECONOMICS major from MADRID, SPAIN, is known as a DIAMOND around here. HE was invited to join because OF HIS PERSISTENCE AND HIS FATHER WAS IN THE SOCIETY, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of A LEGION OF STAFF CONSTANTLY AT YOUR SERVICE, A WARDROBE FILLED WITH THE FINEST MATERIAL, + EXPENSIVE RINGS ON EACH OF HIS FINGERS.

helloooo!! it’s been a long time coming but i’m finally excited to be here and join in on this super cool story the admins and all of you have created! i’m lia, i’m 23 and i go by she/her and they/them pronouns, so feel free to use either of them. i was going to make a graphic and a google doc but i’ve got plans with my family to watch a movie tonight, so until i can make the time i hope his app is enough!

a past and character reflection.

you were born into success and luxury, the only child of two glencore billionaires — a diversified natural resource company. the synders are responsible for the marketing of lead and make a little over a billion dollars each year. all they’ve ever known was their jobs and their money, leaving little room for anything more than that, especially the addition of a child. the nannies changed your diapers and the maid picked up your toys, while the butler handled the broken glass splayed across the marble flooring from one of your daily tantrums. they bit their tongues because you were raised to view yourself as extraordinary living in a world of the ordinary. despite this, these people meant more to you than the ones who brought you into the world. you had a mother that asked you how your day went and then immediately turned her attention back to her phone or laptop, checking off that mental to-do-list that made her believe the question was enough effort. you had a father that saw you as weak and continuously pushed you past your limits, focusing on every little flaw you had and giving you no choice but to be better. you became so conflicted between your drive to be the best and your need for love, that anger became your method of coping. even the lightest of offenses were met with your spite and you glorified material things as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. even at the tender age of ten, power was the one thing that kept you driven.

growing up, you never had any real or close friendships. the people that you called your friends were just more people that you could benefit from — the children from rich and influential families that spanned the globe. regardless of your rude and cold exterior, they still found reason to look up to you like you were their leader, be it an inheritance from your father’s charisma or your mother’s sophistication — because everything you had, you had to thank them for right? you knew exactly how to draw people in and use them until you didn’t need them anymore, kicking them to the curb the second their time ran out. the kids that excelled in school got you the highest grade, the kids that excelled in sports helped you become captain of their teams, and the kids that assisted you in breaking the rules always took the fall. and yet, no matter how hard you proved yourself as this apex predator, your parents saw you as inferior. they always told you to work smarter not harder, but when you did, it still wasn’t enough. what more could you take from the world? it had nothing left to give you.

the next chapter in your life became your second chance to prove yourself, but this time with a different method to your persistence. just as your parents did, you’d build yourself from the ground up, not taking whatever you wanted but fighting to obtain it. you already had the determination to do what had to be done to reach your goals, now all you needed to do was make it yourself. you enter your first year at strathmore university and you never take what you need to succeed, you push yourself until you earn it. every time the fates fight against you and you feel hopeless in meeting these high expectations you and your parents have made for you, you grasp onto the anguish of that ten year old boy yearning for approval and press forward with your strength. you still hold onto that cunning aspect of your character but this time, it’s something you keep hidden beneath the surface — away from prying eyes. you slip up once or twice, but it’s never enough to allow others to see you for who you truly are. you join several clubs even though you barely have the time, slipping your name into the minds of those spanning the entirety of the campus. you maintain one of the highest grades in your classes through dedication and hard work, scoffing at the students that request your assistance … they don’t deserve your help. not now anyway. not while you fight to be noticed in a place filled to the brim with excellent minds. not while you await your invitation to the society, the first step at proving that you can be great just like them. just like your parents.

on the society

upon arriving at strathmore university, leo became obsessive in his studies and joined many clubs to assist in his quest of standing out amongst the other first years. unbeknownst to many though, he also did this in hopes of earning a spot in the secret society. this is because his father had been in the society when he was young and in order to prove his potential, this was an organization he knew he had to be involved in. despite not knowing what the society was like or what they were about, he knew that they existed because of his father but that’s the extent of his knowledge on it.

when he was finally given his chance thanks to the diamond opal, leo became passionate about his spot and willing to do whatever means necessary to keep his spot. he takes advice willingly ( but goes against it if he believes they’re wrong ) and pushes to lead in some situations, not letting anyone or anything stand in the way of his goals. although he mainly does everything for his parents, whether they will ever notice or not, it is also for himself and his desire to be something great ( something he outwardly believes he already is but has struggled with internally for a long time ). leo wants to be the best prodigy and opal that the society has ever seen, and visualizes himself as the diadem when he builds himself up to that point.

when it comes to poppy nighmore, leo is more intrigued than he is worried about the reason for her disappearance. if those within the society that knew poppy are upset about her disappearance, leo is willing to take initiative in trying to solve the mystery. he will take risks and push limits in order to find information, but does so for selfish gain than anything else. he believes that he may prove himself as a worthy and necessary addition to the opal society if he continues researching and physically proving he cares. it also gives him a chance to show the others that he is capable of big things.

wanted connections.

as i read about your characters i’ll be able to generate a bit more ideas when directly plotting with each of you! these are just the ideas i have coming into the group, so if you do not see your character fitting them, worry not! we can brainstorm<3

his soft spot — the person that leo can’t seem to say no to no matter how hard he tries. his entire life he has felt little to no remorse in his conquest for power, no matter who he trampled along the way but suddenly, out of nowhere, the world presented him with this person and every time they’re around, every ounce of him becomes vulnerable. when they tell him to do something or to behave a certain way, he seldom disobeys. if they happen to be in the room when he’s behaving as he normally does, he avoids their eyes in fear of backing down. in a way, this person in his anchor that protects him from himself.

his adversary — the person that gives leo a run for his money, testing him and pushing him every step of the way. they bear too many similarities to get along and compete over even the littlest of things. when one says yes, the other says no. the steve rogers to his tony stark. the thor to his loki.

fellow rich kids — those he knew by association prior to strathmore university or the society. they all understand each other because they grew up in similar conditions, where material things were the forms of love they received as children. they understand the lifestyle and flock together, regardless of whether or not they actually like each other. they board a private jet and escape real life for a weekend, only to return like nothing had happened come monday morning.

his best friend — leo doesn’t know it yet, perhaps neither of them do, but this person is his best friend. close relationships of any kind are foreign concepts to leo because he had, in his opinion, more important things to focus on as he grew up. love doesn’t exist in his world. so by his words, he trusts this person the most and is constantly inviting them around with him. he would never call it as it is in fear of cutting them loose and never feeling an ounce of remorse, but he’s acknowledged it in his head once or twice. this person is like the sibling he’s never had.

his mistake — in leo’s first year, he befriended this person and the pair eventually started to see each other romantically. however, leo wronged them somehow and now that he’s in the society with them, he realizes how big of a mistake he made hurting them. perhaps he fell back into old habits and made their acquaintance with the intention of gaining something, maybe in a class or by their personal influence in the world / at school, and they eventually found out about it. just an angsty exes plot.

his mentor — the diamond that took him as their prodigy. leo takes the dynamic between them incredibly serious and is willing and ready to do whatever they ask of him in order to prove they made the right choice taking him under their wing. he understands that his place in the society must not be taken for granted and so he treats it as a passion, rather than just another club around campus. he rarely does something society related without first receiving the opinion of the opal, but he also would ignore their opinion if he feels they are the one that’s wrong. this is business as usual and leo is their prodigy knowing that if all goes as planned, he will have their seat in the future.

#𝓁𝑒𝑜𝒸𝒶𝒹𝒾𝑜 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 〳 ⑉ introduction.#opalsintro #i sweat i'll have a stats / more in depth bio / wanted connection list soon okay #and by sweat i mean swear #sweating too though because all of you are so cool ? catch my leg on fire more like catch my heart on fire #nobody read these tags

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

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The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 11)

A/n: Don’t mind me, updating a series no one cares about lol. I’ve been toeing the line of what he’s like in other fanficiton and fans’ minds, but with this one I may just cover a side of Jerome y’all might really believe is out of character. I don’t care though. I’m having fun exploring a character and I’m having fun.

Word Count: 5400+

MASTERLIST

There was something different about waking up in the morning to Jerome still being asleep next to you. Or at least that's how Harley felt. Especially because this never happened, and considering what had happened last night. Maybe that was it. The night before was the main thing on Harley's mind as he slowly woke up, his head immediately filling with the memory as if denying him even a second dog bliss from it.

If he was being honest, it made him both terrified and exhilarated. They'd never had sex like that before. Slow and tender and soft. Words of praise had poured from Jerome's mouth nonstop, and it had sent Harley's body in a different way. Rather than fireworks, it was more like lava under rocks. Searing heat that crept through Harley's veins like it was trying to sneak. It made Harley feel infinitely close to Jerome. Made him feel tethered to Jerome. He'd never felt anything like that before, and from Jerome's reactions neither had he. It also gave both men a new fear. Or, a deeper rooted hold on a fear that already existed at the very least.

What if this ended?

What if neither man felt this ever again?

What if they'd unveiling something in themselves last night... and now, in the day time, the other didn't like it?

It was then that Jerome turned, facing Harley, where he'd had his back turned before. "I'm sorry about your friend." His voice was quiet, and Jerome wouldn't look at him.

Harley was surprised by that. He scooted closer, resting his forehead on Jerome's chest. The red head pulled the other man's body closer, tucking Harley against Jerome's own frame. He held onto him, protecting him from the world for a second. It was empowering when Harley leaned into it immediately, reaching his hands so he fisted Jerome's shirt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Jerome had never been comforting before. Safe. He'd never had someone take refuge in him before. It was intoxicating. It made him feel strong and unbreakable. It was more of a high than he'd ever felt before. Maybe just as good as when he put his little shows on and watched people panic and squirm. Harley finding safety in this moment was on par with all the moments other people had found danger in Jerome.

I guess when all you get is the same thing all your life, even if it's good, something new can have a strong effect on a man. Jerome had always been fear personified. He'd been a walking weapon of death and destruction, and somehow in that chaos Harley found himself making a home. It made Jerome feel incredible. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought.

"Can I see those drawings you did last night?" Harley leaned back so they were looking at each other. Jerome had an odd expression on his face. Not the one Bruce and Jeremiah wore when they looked at each other, but a very close approximation. It made Harley's heart pick up.

"Sure." He slid out of bed to pad to the living room, snagging his drawing pad and returning with it. He sat in bed this time, extending the drawing pad so Jerome could grab it.

The red head say up as well, taking the pad from Harley and beginning to slowly look through it. He took longer than Harley though he had the attention span for, drinking in the different angles and shadows of his own face. He seemed to be scanning it. At one point he reached up and touched his face, his eyebrows coming together. "What are you thinking, J?"

Jerome looked up, a look of concern and confusion on his face. "Is this really how you see me?"

It was Harley's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

He seemed to struggle to explain a few seconds before weakly offering, "I'm beautiful." He immediately scowled. "You make me look... good looking." A deeper scowl. "I mean, I know I'm sexy don't get me wrong, but the way you draw me looks... looks..."

"Pretty?" Harley offered.

"Yes," Jerome groaned, like it hurt him.

Harley bit his lip for a second, thinking. "To me, you were always a work of art. Even before I drew you." He looked at the bed, fingers fiddling with the blanket. "You used to come to my mind all the time when you were dead. I thought of you constantly. Went to therapy over it because they thought it was a side effect of trauma." He snorted, shaking his head. "Turns out I was just infatuated with you." He looked back at Jerome then. "You came to me in dreams when I finally learned how to control my thoughts when awake. Even before we met that day, in person, I was obsessed with you. I used to draw you all the time. I told myself that it was to deal with the trauma of my parents dying, my fixation on death and murderers. People that were considered psychotic and dangerous. And maybe it was, in part. Maybe it began that way. But ever since the first second I saw you, you became this beacon of hope. Hope that in some world, with someone, I could be free from expectation and restrictions. That I could be wild and have fun and be GAY and not have to worry about what other people thought. You stood for the happiness I've been denied since the first day time I ever found anyone attractive." He paused. "Helped that you were incredibly attractive." Jerome giggled at that and Harley's smile widened. "You're so silly." Jerome scooted closer, kissing Harley so deeply he lost all of his breath. He leaned away after too short a time though, tilting his head. "Let's do something fun today."

"Like what?" Harley asked. He was getting good at keeping track with Jerome's zipping thought train.

Considering, Jerome grew quiet. "I want to take you on a date. Something nice." Harley deflated. "It's not smart to go out right now. We're trying to convince Bruce and the police that you're dead. If you're seen it'll all be over."

Jerome pouted. "Let me take you somewhere."

A long sigh came from Harley. "Do you want to die?" Jerome shook his head no. "Do you want to get caught and sent to Arkham?" Another silent no. "Then what the hell do you suppose we do that won't require any people, when we're in the middle of a huge city?"

Quiet groans and Jerome was flopping back on the bed, making Harley smile fondly. "I can't stay here forever, Harley! It's BORING. You get to go out all the time and check in on our dear brothers. Why don't I get to?"

"Because you'd be found out," Harley reminded patiently. "And entrapped. Or killed. Or entrapped and then killed."

There was a pause where Jerome was quiet. "You must go to Jeremiah's again and get me new information." Harley nodded, moving to get off the bed so he could get ready to head out. Jerome was suddenly moving though, pinning him before he could leave all the way. "But before you do that, I would like you to leave me with something to think about. Something to make this day a little more worth it." He licked his lips. "Entertain me, Harley." His eyes darkened and Harley shivered.

"Yes sir." - "Hey Harley!" Jeremiah greeted brightly. Harley chuckled at the boy. How was he twins with Jerome? That lightness and energy came so easily to this man, where Jerome struggled to even accept the idea of adorableness, let alone embody it constantly. But this wasn't the time to think about Jerome. "How did your date with the boy wonder go?" Jeremiah was bouncing on his toes. It was genuinely adorable. "He kissed me."

Harley launched to his feet. "What?" He was grinning, hands outstretched as if deciding on whether to grab him or pump into the air victoriously.

"Yeah!" Jeremiah squeaked.

"That's awesome!" Harley gushed. "Tell me everything! Wait- where's Ecco?"

"I already told her," Jeremiah dismissed, waving his hand through the air. "She picked me up afterward and I filled her ears with it all the way home.

Harley giggled, his nose scrunching in amusement. "I bet she loved that." Jeremiah blushed and Harley winked, nudging his friend playfully. "Okay well now it's my turn. Every detail Jeremiah, I'm serious."

And the red head eagerly delivered. The two boys talked for hours, going from the date and all that happened right into Harley waltzing around the room dramatically planning the wedding and the house and family that would follow. "You'll definitely need at least one dog. You both seem like cat people, but I bet your ass that you two raise a kid willing to rough house with a dog. It's got to be huge then. Like so big toddlers can ride on its back, and whenever it wants to go anywhere it'll just drag you along even if you want to go somewhere else."

At this point Jeremiah had covered his face, laying his hands on the counter and his head in the palms of his hands. "Please stop," he groaned, but both boys knew he had to hide his expression or risk showing off the radiant smile he'd hinted at earlier.

"Fine fine fine," Harley sighed, finally sitting back down. He chuckled, sitting back in the chair. He was lounging, legs spread and arms over the back of his seat. He looked comfortable. It was so different than the Wayne boy that had been seen on TV for years. The one Bruce talked about even. Harley really wasn't Y/n. He was... too much like Jerome to ever be that boy again. "What's with the frown?" Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeremiah debated on whether he should share his thoughts, but Harley leaned forward, showing that he knew Jeremiah was thinking something and that he wouldn't let it drop. Having gotten to the point where Harley could always pry information out of Jeremiah, the redhead didn't even bother fighting him. "I was thinking about how much you remind me of Jerome." Harley hesitated and Jeremiah rushed to add, "Not in a bad way. But your confidence and ease. Your very presence is so much bigger than it used to be. I didn't know you back then, but Bruce has mentioned how you guys used to be. Mostly because he obsesses over the worry that Jerome is still alive so it comes up often, because I always listen. Once he mentions Jerome, then we talk about how things were in my childhood and then it goes to how his childhood used to be and then you come up." He looked away, obviously self conscious about the way Harley's eyes were drilling into him.

"Do you lie to him?"

That caught Jeremiah off guard. "What?" He looked back with an expression like a deer in the headlights, or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Jerome talked to me a lot." Harley watched his words carefully, being sure not to reveal that Jerome STILL talked to him just as much. "And that day in the tunnels, when Jerome tried to kidnap you. He said you lied about your guys' past."

Jeremiah was quiet for a long time. "I don't lie to him." He paused again and Harley waited for him to continue. When Jeremiah realized Harley wasn't going to let it go, he continued. "I don't tell him what I used to tell our mom. I'm... ashamed. You were right when you said I contributed a lot to how Jerome turned out. But, you have to understand Harley he terrified me. He never threatened me per say, but I was the one who always found the bodies of the animals he mutilated. I was the one he talked about to his fantasies about other people. He... He used to say he was joking, and he never did anything until our mom, from what I know, but he was curious and he didn't have the same empathy as everyone else did. For animals at least."

Harley sighed. "He loved me." Jeremiah looked up sharply. "He told me so. And- and you know what, I believed him." Harley swallowed. "Did I ever tell you how we found out where you were?" Jeremiah hesitated before shaking his head. "Would you like to know?" There was a darkness in Harley's voice. One that made Jeremiah want to shy away. But, he was curious too. It was one of the fatal flaws him and Jerome had in common. So, even though he wanted to run, he nodded instead. "We went to your Uncle Zack's."

Immediately Jeremiah cringed. "Oh god."

"So you know what that man is capable of then," Harley eased, even though his expression had not changed at all. It was the same forced calm that Jerome had perfected. The similarity between Harley and Jeremiah's lost brother in that moment made anxiety twist in the redhead's chest. "You know, if I hadn't been there..." He shook his head. "He heated soup to boiling. He wanted to pour it into Jerome's mouth. Thank god I was there to stop that one. What would it have bee like, being a child against grown adults. No where to run, no one to turn to, and no mercy in sight. No reprieve. If I was Jerome, I probably would have killed that bitch you called your mother too."

Harley expected Jeremiah to snap at him, but he didn't. It made the air get even more thick with dark tension. It set into reality not only what Harley had said, but what Jeremiah wouldn't. That he would have too. "I think I'm going to go work on my prototypes." Harley didn't say anything, so Jeremiah left him alone in the quiet.

There was a part of Harley that felt bad for ruining the mood after they'd both been flying so high earlier, but there was also a part of him that didn't care. So he stood up and left through the maze, standing outside to get some air. To breathe after the stifling pressure inside. He hesitated too long, though. If he had just left right then and headed back to Jerome and forgotten about the conversation for the rest of the day, he would have made it out of there with plenty of time. But he didn't. He hesitated and and he breathed and he closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin.

That was what gave Bruce the time he needed to pull up to Jeremiah's front door just to see Harley standing there. The boy tripped as he got out of the car, his eyes wide and lips parted. "Y/n?"

Harley jerked at the name, flinching away from it. It eyes slammed open, his gaze hard and angry. After the conversation he'd just had with Jeremiah, he was not in the right place to face his brother. Yet, here they both were. "Mr. Wayne," Harley greeted bitterly.

Bruce looked like Harley had slapped him. "Where have you been?" He shook his head. "Where's Jerome?" He then remembered where they were and looked between Harley and the door that lead to the maze where Bruce's boyfriend was. "Why are you here?"

The chaotic barrage of questions made Harley relax. He had the control in this situation. "I'm here because Jeremiah lets be stay here, when I want to. I check in sometimes and talk to him." Any other answer would get him in trouble, and he didn't feel like setting off his brother so he stayed with the truth, ignoring the other two questions.

The Wayne boy stepped forward, settling on angry between the emotions he'd been battling before. "You're friends with Jeremiah?"

"Sort of," Harley shrugged. "And by the way, it's Harley."

Hands curled into fists and Harley found himself slipping into a sort of distant amusement. His stance solidified, arms relaxing and fingers twitching at his sides. Bruce got hit with the same thought Jeremiah had been before. Harley looked a lot like Jerome in that moment, but more sane. In control. He didn't have that same unhinged factor, which left him far more unpredictable. Harley had the air of someone who would kill everyone in the room and then get away with it. Not for chaos' sake, but because he simply didn't care. Seeing sanity int he face of someone so cold and distant and confident sent a chill down Bruce's spine. What had happened to the brother who radiated sunshine and painted the most odd paintings with even weirder origin stories? The brother that couldn't handle even a little confrontation, let alone stand empty handed and still look dangerous? "I guess it is." Bruce's voice was soft and broken. His anger had fallen away, exchanging for a heart break that made Harley shift away from it like it burned him.

The door behind Harley opened. "Wait wait wait!" The voice belonged to Jeremiah, who was scrambling between the brothers as if trying to stop a fight. Maybe it would have eventually turned into that, but as of now all that was happening was Bruce was staring a Harley, looking for answers, and Harley was looking anywhere except at his brother as he refused to give them.

"You know," Harley mused. "I seem to be ruining the mood a lot today. You two love birds spend time together and I'll keep my distance so that my unhappiness won't affect you. How does that sound?"

Jeremiah launched forward, catching Harley's shoulder. "Please," he begged softly. "Don't go."

"Do you want him to leave instead, because I can promise it won't be pretty if we're both here," Harley spat viciously. Jeremiah recognized a deeper level to the boy though. A hurt that was curling into his face. There was more than just anger driving him to run now. There was fear, and pain. Jeremiah had seen that look on Jerome's face far too many times to let Harley go now.

Jeremiah looked at Bruce. "Listen," he sighed heavily. "You're both important to me. I have three friends, and one of them is more of a body guard who's paid to hang around, and another is... more than a friend, if I'm lucky." Bruce couldn't help how his face softened. Jeremiah cleared his throat. "I need as many people in my life as I can get, because I already basically have no one. You guys are brothers, for goodness sake. Don't let life tear you apart like I let happen for me and Jerome." This he directed at Harley. The words seemed to confuse Bruce, but he stayed quiet despite that.

Harley on the other hand looked ready to go. "He doesn't want me here."

"I didn't say that," Bruce rushed before he could rein his self control.

Jeremiah perked up. "You're the one person that can actually reassure Bruce that Jerome is dead."

Ah, how wrong he was. Harley could not honestly reassure Bruce that Jerome was dead. He could, however, convince Bruce that Jerome was dead- and he was also the only person who could. No matter how much of Harley Bruce saw, every time the Wayne heir looked at the man who used to be his best friend, he would always see Y/n. Y/n, who had never once been capable of hiding his emotions or even considering telling a lie, let alone delivering one convincingly. Y/n, who had always valued honesty - especially when it came to family. Who valued trust over power. Who had been abused and pushed around and broken and destroyed, replaced by someone who used lies to get what he wanted like one uses hammers to drive in nails. Harley would lie without hesitation or regret, and Bruce would believe him because Y/n wouldn't lie, and even if he did, Bruce would be able to tell.

"I killed him myself," Harley reassured, looking Bruce in the eye without hesitation.

Bruce formed an expression that spoke of disbelief and doubt, but Harley could see through that into the desperation in Bruce's eyes. "You killed him?"

Harley sighed. "I do that now."

Obviously Bruce didn't like that, but he seemed to accept it at least. "Why?"

This part was easy. "Because he hurt you." Harley shrugged, kicking the dirt under his foot. "He had no reason to involve you. He just did. He didn't even consult me, and he didn't because he knew that if he had I would have said no. We had a deal- no touching you. He might be my partner, but you're my brother and that's more important. No one hurts you. I made that clear since the beginning." He swallowed. That wasn't totally true. In fact, that day he had encouraged Jerome to mess Bruce up a little. Even kill him. But there had been a hesitance to hurt Bruce since the first day even if it had faded over time. Because the truth was, above even Bruce and Alfred, Jerome was the most important person to Harley now. "He was jealous because I cared more about you. He's kind of an attention whore." That was true. Not that Jerome was jealous, but that he was a slut for attention. The more time Harley spent with him, the more obvious it became. Harley didn't mind in the least though.

Bruce seemed to take a moment to consider this and choose his next words before he spoke again. "He sounds obsessive."

Jeremiah scoffed. "If I had to describe Jerome in one words," he mumbled.

"When I was caught with Jerome at the fair, I only ended up there because the first thing Jerome thought about when he came back from the dead was that the last thing he'd thought about when he was alive was that he'd wanted to kill me." Harley scoffed. "He took his wanting to kill me through death with him. If that doesn't spell obsessed, I don't know what does." That was another truth, but yet again Harley didn't mind. He liked to think of being on Jerome's mind, haunting him as the red head had haunted Harley. He liked the thought that not even death could do them part. Or however that line went, whatever.

There was a sort of melting slouch of Bruce's shoulders. He'd given in. Harley had succeeded. "We're not just going to be brothers again. Neither of us are the same."

"The last time I saw you my boyfriend was trying to kill you, and before that I was convinced you'd been brainwashed by some cult, so yeah we have some catching up to do."

Bruce looked at Jeremiah who perked up. "Wonderful! Dinner, anyone?"

"Actually," Harley edged. "I think we both have a lot to think about. Maybe rushing it all tonight wouldn't be the best idea." For the first time in a long time, Bruce nodded in agreement with Harley. In fact, it had probably been the first time Bruce had agreed with Harley since he had stopped being Y/n Wayne.

"Fine," Jeremiah sighed. "But I expect you two to have a dinner together within the next week. I won't let you just avoid it."

Harley sighed and nodded, turning away from the other two boys and heading toward his car. "Use protection!" Harley called, smirking when he heard the boys behind him groan in unison. Before they could curse him though, he slipped into his car and closed the door, cutting off any attempts of communication. He turned his car on and drove away, letting his smile melt away when he was positive he was out of view. His hands tightened on the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked, beginning to hurt after a few seconds it was cemented so. Not wanting to get pulled over when he was in a car that wasn't technically in his name - he'd gotten it a long time ago when he still worked with Penguin - and was, more importantly, a wanted criminal. Focusing on safe driving only got him to the front door though. He slammed it closed, standing in his doorway glaring at the floor.

And then he snapped.

A scream ripped out of him as he reached for the closest things light enough to pick up and began throwing them across the room. Some - a vase, a few dishes that hadn't been taking to the kitchen yet, a table decoration - shattered, while most of it landed safely after crashing into more things - books slamming into chairs, pillows knocking things off the wall, a shoe hitting the edge of a full length mirror hard enough that it tilted, so on. Altogether, he was creating a lot of noise, destruction, and chaos.

Jerome ran into the scene, looking rather startled. Harley wasn't the angry type. He had never been, except the rare times Penguin had been able to unlock long since buried trauma that he wasn't dealing with. Oswald had taught him to both control AND channel his emotions, so that they could be expressed but also make you look more terrifying rather than show as weaknesses and wear you away to nothing. No one had seen this side of Harley except him yet, and Jerome wasn't quite sure how to handle it. In fact, it reminded him a little of... his mom.

When Harley finally stopped, he turned away from Jerome, curling his fingers around his short hair very tightly, tugging as he planted his forehead against the wall furthest from Jerome. The redhead paused before slowly making his way over. "Harley?" His voice was soft. The anger in his boyfriend had unlocked a fear in him that he hadn't felt like this since he was a child. He was scared of Harley losing it again, both because he didn't want to have this feeling get worse, and also because if Harley was upset enough to melt down like this, he might get destructive with himself rather than loose objects.

Or worse, Harley might get destructive with Jerome.

"I'm sorry," Harley croaked. He took a deep breath, finally dropping his hands and leaning away from the wall before turning to Jerome. This was closer to the Harley Jerome knew. A little exhausted from his heavy emotions, but otherwise solid and in control. "I'm sorry J." His voice was stronger now. More fluid and solid. He saw Jerome's expression and slowly approached. Jerome didn't move away. When Harley touched him, Jerome didn't flinch even though his pulse skipped a beat. Not something totally new with Harley, except that this wasn't a good spike. The emotion he felt was new when it came to Harley. "I'm sorry," Harley said again, pulling Jerome to him until their foreheads touched. "Did I upset you?"

Jerome's brain had short circuited a bit. After being free of his mom for years, he'd grown a solid defense against things that reminded him of her. But Harley had waited until he was past all of Jerome's walls and defenses. Until he had become Jerome's home and safety embodied. Seeing such anger now threw Jerome for a loop. How would he leave Harley now if things got bad like it used to be with his mom? I had taken Jerome eighteen years to kill his mother and get away from her, and she had been... terrible. How would he do the same to Harley, who had claimed all of the most important parts of Harley and become essential to Jerome's insanity. Harley was the one who calmed him after nightmares, and defused a situation that set off something that triggered backlash from Jerome's past. Harley was the one who saved him from his uncle and his brother and his past. How would he get rid of someone like that?

"You looked... like her." The words were soft.

Harley froze. "Jerome-"

Jerome turned away and left. He said some joke but didn't hear it, too busy trying to think about how to backtrack and defend himself again from these emotions with Harley's help. "Never mind," he breathily dismissed, waving his hand in the air.

Harley wasn't having it though. He caught the hand, forcing Jerome to stop and face him. His face was serious, but his eyes were soft. "I would never hurt you, do you understand?I might what I said that day I pulled you from that ledge, Jerome Valeska. You lead, I will follow. I love you and I will do anything you ask of me. You don't have to be afraid of me. Even if i get angry and break shit, you are still safe with me."

"You're so dramatic," Jerome sighed, looping his arm over Harley's shoulders. His body had relaxed though. Even if he did a fantastic job of brushing things off and playing like nothing effected him, Harley's words had brought him a sense of peace he would never admit he needed. "I mean, anything? You won't even let me leave or kill our brothers."

Harley blew air out of his nose upon remembering Bruce. "If that's what you really want."

"Really?" Jerome faced him, surprised. Harley had been so adamant about doing neither for the last several weeks. Why change his mind now? Unlike Harley, Jerome was not a good people reader. Not for details, at least. He could tell when someone was scared of him, or when they were intrigued or interested or disgusted. He couldn't read Harley's micro signs though.

Harley rolled his eyes. "Ran into Bruce on my way back today." His lips curled but this time it didn't make Jerome nervous. He couldn't even think why Harley would remind him of his mother. Jerome broke things when he was angry too. Harley hadn't even know Jerome's mom. He was getting side tracked, but Harley spoke again, pulling his thoughts back as Harley's voice always did. "Jeremiah wants us to make amends and catch up. Wants us to spend dinner together. Ugh."

"My brother trying to make the world perfect for him?" Jerome joked. "Never."

Harley chuckled softly. No matter his state, Jerome could always make him laugh. "Yeah. I just- Bruce stills wants me to be that weak little scared boy I used to be. I'm better now. Happier and stronger. Maybe that scares him because I didn't succeed the way he wanted me to, but that doesn't change the fact that I can fight for myself now. I don't just settle and lie down and take shit. If he had it his way, along with everyone in this stupid city, I would sit in a chair in the corner of every room and sit in Bruce's shadow, there to talk to him when he needs company but otherwise be ignored and be okay with that. Alone, by myself, maybe with a girl who I can have kids with." He shuddered and Jerome followed with a scowl. Neither liked the idea of that, "Even worse, I'd be working for my younger brother. Working at Wayne incorporated, or as some sort of side kick as he stop bad guys or whatever." He grunted in disgust. "As if they even know what bad is."

Jerome pulled Harley toward the couch and next to him. When they were both seated, Jerome continued to tug on Harley until the boy curled into the redhead's side. All cuddled up, both seemed to feel a lot better with the words of a future that made both of them sick still ringing in their ears. "You know, if we're going back to being gay and doing crime and all that fun stuff, it might not hurt to be around your brother."

Harley sat up, eyebrows pulled together. "Why him? He's just a cop wannabe."

"He's friends with Gordon though, isn't he? Can you imagine how much power you had at your fingertips when everyone thought you were good and harmless and not even a wisp of a threat? Now you're none of those things, and the only person who knows your true potential is Mr. Penguin." He shrugged, his smile growing. "I've seen you do it before. Heard stories about your escapades with the Little Man, and you've told me before how valuable sneaking is. Never something I did because I never could have pulled it off, but you..." He pointed at Harley, getting excited now. "Why isn't Bruce following you around, or questioning you, or taking you to the police in an attempt to find me?"

Tracing the pattern of the couch, Harley tried not to smirk. "I told him what he wanted to hear."

The smirk that Harley was repressing shone on Jerome's face like light from the sun. Brilliant and bright. He hopped up onto the couch into a crouch, his fingers dancing in the air like he was constructing an orchestra. "What a clever boy. Deserves a reward..."

Now Harley grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

#jerome valeska #cameron monaghan #gotham #male reader #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x male reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan x male reader #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #gotham x male reader #joker imagine #joker x reader #joker x male reader

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scriptaed · 5 years

Text

the redmail | 01

♡ genre: angst/fluff; college!au; e2l!au;

♡ pairing: reader x yoongi;

♡ length: 2.4k;

♡ synopsis: stoic, indifferent, and aloof, you’ve always wondered what made that oddball yoongi the heartthrob of the school; that is, until one day, when you finally catch him red-handed and the origins of his popularity are unveiled—that bastard’s been writing himself his own love letters! [...] // a drabble of the redmail but written in yoongi’s pov because things aren’t always what they seem.

♡ commissioned by @shadowsremedy: thank you so so much for the support! eeespecially for requesting this because it was so much fun to write. i hope you enjoy this c:

The silence she leaves in her wake is overbearing—but then again, how stupid am I to assume otherwise after having just witnessed the outbreak of a ferocious tempest? I knew it would hurt. I knew she would explode, being the untamed girl I’ve come to know much too well. I knew she would face dejection, even if she vainfully concealed it, because she’s never been completely honest with neither me nor herself; and as certain as I was of her dismay over my threat against her necessary albeit forced confession to Jin, the one and only thing of much more certainty was the hurt I would inevitably face. She might not know it—and I, myself, wouldn’t have believed such an absurd claim just a month ago—but I would rather sit through another dozen of her outfit checks than to be the cause of her pain again.

And that says a lot.

Tsk. Winter is especially relentless tonight. I’ve never been the type to reel at the bite of cold, but the ghost she left behind has me balled up and shivering. I glance around the stretch of the lengthy street overlooking a river and lit by cold blue post lights, drowning myself in the chirps of crickets only to prim at the absence of any passersby. At least no one had to pay witness to the horrific argument that most would only cringe at while watching all those rom-coms that Y/N had forced me to sit through. Not that I really cared what others thought. Knowing Y/N, however, she would have been whining to me about how others would misconstrue the situation and spread false rumors about our lover’s quarrel… that is, if she were even willing to speak to me again.

How long has it been since she stormed off anyways?

I could only scoff at myself in disbelief when a pathetic epiphany dawns upon me. Here I sit, in the middle of a stranded street after spending my entire Sunday night acting as a pretend boyfriend for a girl whose eyes lied elsewhere—and yet, despite having been scolded by said girl and deservedly so, my body remains affixed to the bench and every and any efforts to budge are in vain.

Why?

It’s shamefully dumb for me to admit—and I would never do it aloud, for no one, including myself, should have to endure such torture—but I’m clinging onto our last: the last time I shared a seat with her, the last time she held my hand even if in the name of “practice,” the last fragment in time I could relish and smile stupidly over her but only secretly at my own discretion.

A small puff of white followed by a larger, heavier cloud fills the air as I release the weight along with the burden that remains in my chest. The winter cold sends chills to my bone and the white lights blind me as I unintentionally challenge it to a staring contest, but they all pale in comparison to the daunting possibility of a tomorrow without the daily bother she had forced me to become accustomed to.

God, I always appreciated quality time with silence, but it’s too damn quiet around here. Where is her endless blabbering when I need it?

Nonetheless, I stumble onto my feet. It goes without saying: my conviction is undeterred. I don’t regret telling her the truth nor do I regret having blown some steam over her silly, Jin-driven fanatic antics that I had allowed for far too long. I had to tell her. It was for the better. She had to get over it, and when she finally does get over it… would she finally recognize her true value? Could she finally appreciate a man who could treat her right?

...and in her own treacherous words that reverberates through the silent night and wreaks chaos in what was once my perfectly tranquil state of mind: what would I do if, someday, her heart really found its way to me?

“Pft, second choice to Jin?” I scoff to myself, shaking my head, burying my hands into my pockets, and kicking the rocks to the curb along with my pathetic skip of a heartbeat, “Don’t ‘kid around with me.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“Oh, Yoongles!” Jin kicks a leg over the other, quickly catching his toppled laptop and returning it to his lap just as I enter the room, “you going out on evening dates now, too, or wh—” he pauses and grimaces once he notices something, whatever it is, on my face, “—what happened?”

“First, you don’t get to call me ‘Yoongles,’” I deadpan, “and second, we need to talk.”

“Talk? Us?” Jin articulates but I don’t really need to answer for him to realize the gravity of the situation. Propping a pillow behind him and the wall, Jin finally sits up and chuckles nervously, “what’s with you recently? Given, you’ve always been a moody grandpa, but you seem… particularly bothered nowadays.”

How was I supposed to bring her up without being bombarded by his inevitably nosy questions? And how do I ask him for a favor without spilling the secret Y/N had entrusted me with? It was a hard task, one that I really would rather not go through the hassle of doing, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight otherwise.

For her, I had to do it.

Strolling across the short span of our tiny room, I don’t even realize that I’ve been pacing back and forth between our two beds before finally leaning against my desk. The next thing I know, I’ve been staring at Jin far more intently and probably more intensely than a person asking for a favor should have been.

Thankfully, Jin being the usual albeit irritatingly perky guy he is, he waves my silence off as just another normal day with me, “you need my assistance? What is it? Dating advice? Haha, I knew it! It’s okay, you don’t have to be shy—”

“—it’s about Y/N.”

I make sure to cut him off before he establishes a steady rhythm.

“Oh,” a smug grin stains his face and I have to remind myself exactly who I’m doing this for in order to hold the click of my tongue, “so that’s who this is all about. What’s up? Finally taking a liking to girls, eh? Well, I don’t blame you. Y/N’s a good catch—”

“—she’s not some fish you can just ‘catch,’’” the words slip from lips just as my tongue clicks. Clearing my throat, I cross my arms and shuffle in place… hopefully enough of a surrender for the favor I’m about to ask. A momentary pause follows but after peeking at him from the corner of my eyes and finding him indulging in his own incomprehensible mumbles, a scoff escapes along with my own unnecessary worries.

Damn, I’m really starting to sympathize with Y/N because he really is a dense one.

“...although I do have to say she’s changed a lot. Say,” Jin babbles, finally turning to realize that his words have been going in through one ear and out the other, “did you start liking her before everything or after everything?”

“‘Everything?’” I quirk a brow at his question.

“You know, like, makeup and clothes,” Jin pauses, “well, I guess you’ve never been too close with her until now, so you might not remember—”

“—I remember,” I say much more adamantly than I intended, having to clear my throat before continuing, “she might not look like it, but she’s the same person as she’s always been.”

“Oh?” Jin purses his lips and nods admittedly. “Well, of course you would know. So, after breaking the hearts of half the girls in school, what is it about her that’s finally enraptured the heartthrob himself?”

Of course the heart-breaker himself would ask that.

A simple roll of the eyes is enough for him to understand that the last thing I would give him is an answer to his question.

“Oh! You might be silent but you’re also not denying it! I’ll take it as a victory,” he chimes proudly but I only wrinkle my nose at him in distaste, especially when he bounces forward far too enthusiastically and almost tips his laptop off the bed. “Ooh! Oh my God, does she like you, too?”

“What?”

Silence befalls the room for what seems to be an eternity. I don’t even realize the extent of my glare until I notice Jin flinching backwards and bracing himself for the scolding I surely would have given if it weren’t for what I’m about to ask of him.

What is it with Y/N and Jin today? Proposing the most absurd scenarios that could only exist hypothetically? It’s odd, considering how questions don’t usually agitate me like this, but...

I mean, does she like me? How ironic is it that her crush, himself, questions her feelings for me, someone who is simply her wingman only under the conditions of blackmail?

And if, supposedly in the rarest of chances, her attention has really averted elsewhere, how pathetic would I be as a mere second choice?

“No,” I grimace, purposely staring him down to get the point across, “no, she doesn’t like me.”

“Oh,” Jin pouts in sudden dismay, “I’m sorry, man. Do you know who she likes then?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I shrug. I don’t know why but something about this topic has me wanting to walk out of this room this very second; and before I know it, my discontent had somehow manifested in what I had always thought to be incomprehensible mumbles, “but if she really did like someone, they’d probably be almost as dumb as her decisions.”

“‘Dumb?’” Jin almost shrills. “You’ve never called anyone dumb before except for me—”

—shit.

What did I even say? How did he hear me? Never mind that, had I given away too much? Surely not, right? Jin, the most dense of all guys, wouldn’t be able to decipher the message from something as simple as that, right?

“No,” I quickly blurt, recomposing myself by shuffling in place and putting on a blank canvas that would be my best joker face, “you’re not the only one. I mean, Y/N’s dumb, too.”

“Well, if you know so adamantly for a fact that she doesn’t like you, then you do know that she likes someone…” Jin mumbles to himself. “That would mean you’ve been lying to me thus far… which means…”

Should I stop him now? Should I throw him off track or would that only raise more suspicion? Worse yet, what is this dreadful pain that’s hammering against my chest? It’s almost as if I’m helplessly staring at an impending doom that would soon take my life by storm… because, even if I had threatened Y/N with her secret, what on earth would I do if I really were to have confessed for her?

“...does Y/N like me?”

Betraying her is the last thing I wanted.

“Jin,” I say through gritted teeth because nothing could alleviate the tension brought upon by the drop in my stomach, “I know you have a big ego, but that’s a stretch for even a dumbass like you—”

“—no, no,” Jin purses and my heart almost stops when his eyes flicker from the ceiling and back on me, “you usually don’t care enough about my silly remarks. If I really were being stupid, you would have rolled your eyes and walked off mumbling ‘dumbass,’ but seeing that you’re still here…”

Silence ensues—each second dragging on even longer than its precedent. Shit, why does he have to be fucking Sherlock Holmes now out of all times? If I could, I really would like to strangle my roommate right here, right now.

I gulp, “what?”

“Well,” Jin frowns at the newly reached epiphany, “I have two conclusions. One, Y/N does like me and that would mean I’ve been completely blind to all her obvious hints. In fact, I feel like shit for being so oblivious!”

“Pft.”

I probably shouldn’t have scoffed because that only confirms his statement, but how could I hold in the pleasure of finally witnessing the horror that dawns upon his oblivious self?

“Oh my God,” he gasps in horror, eyes darting to find me in distraught with a finger pointing at himself, “did she change how she dresses because of me?”

“She could care less what you think.”

“So she did change everything for me!” he cups his cheeks in panic. “And to think that I even laughed at her over dressing up for study sessions!”

As much as I would like to sit back and watch him frantically putting two and two together, the worry that weighs heavily in the forefront of my conscience screams all the more for my attention with each dire second.

“Jin.”

His panicked eyes dart to me from his waving mess of a paired hands and he answers meekly, “...yes?”

“Don’t you dare tell Y/N you figured it all out,” my mutter comes with a threatening point of the finger, “and if in the case that you and your dumbass big mouth lets it slip, you better fucking be gentle with her or I swear I’ll crack your skull open in your sleep.”

Jin arches a brow at me, but the surprise is quickly overtaken by the smallest of smiles. At least the slight upturned corner of his lips is able to put me at somewhat of an ease, knowing that Jin would at least try to keep his word. “Of course. I might not like Y/N that way, but she’s still a good friend of mine.”

“And,” I continue, mumbling, “could you possibly take her out for dinner at least once? She’s been dreaming of it since forever... please.”

Nodding his head, he answers, “sure can do.” I can finally sigh a breath of relief. When a quizzical, smug grin replaces that look of ingenuity, however, I find myself staring him down once again. “But you wanna know what my second conclusion is?”

“No,” I click my tongue,” I don’t.”

This time, I wasn’t lying. Truthfully and wholeheartedly, hearing his second conclusion was the last blow I could handle after the merciless whirlwind that was today… especially considering how his deductive reasoning has been on an eerily spot-on streak tonight.

“Well, seeing the usually indifferent you trying to do everything you can to stop me from figuring it all out, I’ve arrived at my second conclusion,” the shithead persists while ignoring your death glares, “you, Mr. Min Yoongi, must be head over heels in love.”

Shit, I can only cross my arms and look at anything but those irritatingly sparkly eyes of his, because—out of all the most oblivious men in the world—that dumbass has caught me red-handed.

#bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #suga x reader #suga x you #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #suga angst #suga fluff #bts fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #the redmail #scriptaed

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rainbowserenity · 4 years

Note

I read your tags so of course I request: “I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately.”

Like so many other things, it started with Serah.

“Pleeeease can you watch her this afternoon? I really need to get to this appointment, but Snow’s working overtime and I can’t bring Rosa with me!”

“I guess,” Lightning replied slowly. “But Hope’s holed up in his room on a video conference. I don’t want him to be disturbed.”

“I’ll warn her! Thank you so much, sis. I really appreciate this.”

“Sure.” Lightning sighed as she hung up, immediately looking around the room and wondering if she had anything to feed a four-year old. Rosa was luckily past the picky eater phase, but you never knew with that one. Honestly, Lightning thought most of the time that her niece had gotten a little too much of her father’s genes.

While she was rummaging around in the kitchen, she heard footsteps and turned her head, a little smile on her lips when she saw Hope. “Hey. Done already?”

“Not yet. One of my team members has a bad connection, so we’re taking a break.” He glanced around. “What are you doing?”

“Serah begged me to babysit Rosa. I want to make sure I have something for when she inevitably claims she’s ‘starving’.”

Hope quirked a smile. “She does get pretty dramatic. Do you think you’ll need help?”

“I think we’ll be okay. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you.”

“It’d be no bother.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Lightning shook her head in amusement. Even though Hope wasn’t actually Rosa’s uncle, she still called him as such and was obsessed with him in that way kids got around their favorite person.

It was cute, but it also made Lightning feel a little weird. Hope was merely her roommate - she’d gotten a decent-sized house, but then Serah had married Snow and moved in with him. Lightning figured there was no use in letting the empty space go to waste, so she’d decided to let Hope live here way cheaper than it would’ve been for him to rent his own place. They’d always gotten along, so it worked out great.

Things had gradually gotten weird, however. Not in a bad way by any means, but things felt....fluttery between them, for lack of a better word. She couldn’t really pinpoint when or why or how, but seeing Hope around the house always brought a smile to her face. Her stomach did flips when they had dinner together and she always felt weirdly disappointed when they went to their separate bedrooms at night.

Plus, there was Rosa. Not only was she obsessed with Hope, but she couldn’t seem to grasp that he and her aunt were merely friends. Lightning couldn’t blame her - after all, she was a kid with her dad’s attention span - but it called attention to those weird, fluttery feelings neither of them knew what to do with.

She was totally going to ignore it today. Hope had a video conference and Serah would only be gone for a couple of hours. No worries.

Of course, all of that fell apart when Serah dropped Rosa off some time later, smothering her face with kisses. Rosa didn’t really seem to care and immediately skipped towards Hope’s room.

Lightning quickly stopped her. “He’s working,” she explained gently. “You have to wait until he comes out here, okay?”

“I haven’t seen Uncle Hope in daaaays!” Rosa whined. “He should stop working and play with us!”

“Sorry.” Lightning picked her up with a grunt - this kid was definitely going to be as tall as her dad - and gently poked her nose, which got a giggle. “I don’t make the rules.”

Of course, just then, the door to Hope’s room opened and he immediately brightened when he saw Rosa. “I thought I heard someone familiar here...”

“Uncle Hope!!!” Rosa cried, immediately trying to wiggle herself from Lightning’s arms. Hope quickly went to them and Rosa practically flew into his embrace. “Aunt Lightning said you had to work!”

“She’s right,” he said. There was a gentle grin on his face that brought that fluttery feeling back. “But I think I can take a break for my favorite lady.”

“YAAAAAY!” Rosa was bouncing as much as she could while still in Hope’s arms. “Can we pleeeease play house and tea party and princess and - “

“Whoa.” Hope finally set her down since the bouncing was getting extreme. “One at a time, okay?”

“Let’s play house!” Rosa exclaimed, bouncing some more before immediately hopping to the couch, where the ‘house’ usually was when she played.

Lightning shook her head in amusement, her eyes sliding to Hope, who was watching Rosa with a fond smile. “Are you sure about this? I know you were worried about getting work done.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s fine. They can survive without me.”

“If you’re sure.”

They had about five seconds before Rosa peeked around the couch and started ordering them around. “You gotta be the mommy and the daddy, ‘cause you’re bigger than me! I’ll be the baby!”

“Really?” Lightning raised her eyebrows. “You want to be a baby?”

“Waahhh!”

She couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. Admittedly, it was fun playing with Rosa - playtime wasn’t really something she’d had much of as a kid, and she knew that Hope hadn’t had much opportunity, either. Maybe that was why he embraced the Uncle role so much.

Playing house got mashed with playing tea party, which involved all of them sitting on the floor, sitting up straight and drinking out of pretend teacups. Rosa admonished them for not holding their pinkies out (”I saw it on TV, Aunt Lightning! It has to be true!”) and praised Hope for being so lovely otherwise.

When Rosa got bored of playing tea party about fifteen minutes later - a record for her - started making pretend baby noises. “Goo-goo-ga-ga!”

Lightning raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s the baby’s naptime.” She glanced at Hope. “What do you think?”

He nodded seriously, clearly embracing the dad role. “I think so too, honey. Babies need plenty of rest.”

While Lightning tried to ignore the term of endearment, Rosa made a noise that was half whine, half laugh. “Noooo! Babies get to stay up and play!”

“Is that so?”

“This one does!” She grinned. “I get to stay with Mommy while she waits for Aunt Vanille so she can go to work!”

Not for the first time, Lightning mentally praised Vanille’s energy and patience. She had no idea what was gonna happen when Snow and Serah inevitably had a second kid. “So what does the Daddy do while you stay with the Mommy?”

“He goes to work!” Rosa answered in a very matter-of-fact tone. She ran to Hope and pushed on his legs. “You’re the Daddy, Uncle Hope! You gotta go to work!”

“I probably should,” he said, although he was still using that serious voice that came when he played with Rosa, just to show he was into the game. He picked up Rosa, much to her delight, and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you tonight. You be good, okay?”

“Okay!”

And then, before either of them knew what was happening, Hope leaned forward - Rosa still in his arms - and pressed his lips to Lightning’s.

She froze, unable to breathe or even really think. Her mind had gone utterly blank with how stupidly perfect this felt and she felt herself kissing him back without even realizing it. He made a small, quiet sound in his throat as he pressed himself closer to her...

“Heyyy! You’re squishing me!”

At Rosa’s voice, the two of them sprang apart, eyes wide. Lightning was breathing heavily and Hope’s face had gone completely red. “Um - “

“C’mon, the Daddy has to go to work!” Rosa was completely unperturbed by what had just happened. After all, they were still playing house, and this was how it went - the Daddy kissed the Mommy before leaving for work.

“Um.” Hope stared for another moment before he nodded slowly and carefully put Rosa down. “Um. yes. Right. I’ll....I’ll be back later.”

“....Okay.” Lightning wasn’t sure what else to say. What could she say, especially when Rosa was still right there?

Hope retreated back to his room and didn’t come out for the rest of the afternoon. Though Lightning kept her focus on Rosa, it was hard to really get in to any of her games when there was a memory of a kiss she hadn’t even known she’d been waiting for.

When Serah finally came back to pick up her daughter, Rosa ran straight into her waiting arms. “Mommyyyyy!”

“Helloooo my little darling!” Serah scooped her up with surprising ease. “Did you have fun with Aunt Lightning today?”

“Yeah! We played tea party and house and princess and horsie and Aunt Lightning and Uncle Hope played Mommy and Daddy!”

Serah looked amused. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! They acted like you and Daddy do before he goes to work!”

“....Really.”

Lightning wanted to crawl into a hole. Serah’s face looked so amused and smug. She was practically a human emoji. “It’s nothing. We had fun.”

“I’m sure you did,” Serah replied in a sing-song voice. “Thanks again, sis!”

Lightning merely grunted - though she did wave goodbye to Rosa - and finally closed the door behind them. She let out a long, steadying breath, wondering what she was supposed to do now that there wasn’t a four-year old to distract her.

“Did they leave?”

She spun around, only to see Hope standing there. Her heart immediately began to pound. “Yes. Just now.”

“Oh.” Hope cleared his throat. “I hope she had fun. It’s always nice to have her here.”

“Right.”

“...”

It was Lightning’s turn to clear her throat. “Listen, I...”

“I’m sorry that I got way too into playing house and accidentally kissed you passionately,” Hope said in one breath, like he’d been working up the nerve to apologize. “It just - I just - I’m sure you’ve never wanted me to do anything like that and I never wanted to make things awkward between us. I - I can start looking for a new place tonight - “

“...Hope.”

He snapped his mouth shut. “Yes...?”

Lightning stared at him for a long moment. There was a tiny part of her that wanted to just ignore all of this and move on.

But there as a huge, fluttery feeling within her that urged her to embrace it.

She smirked. “You call that kiss from earlier passionate?”

His mouth fell open and then snapped shut. “I - excuse me?”

“You’re welcome to show me better.” She walked up to him and rested a hand on his arm. Was this flirting? All the fluttery feelings pointed to yes. “If you want, of course.”

Hope stared for another moment before he covered her hand with his own, his shocked expression finally morphing into a soft smile. “I do want that.” He paused. “I feel like I should thank Rosa.”

“Please. If she’s anything like her father, she doesn’t need her ego stroked.” Lightning wiggled her fingers so she could thread them with Hope’s. “So. How about our own version of playing house?”

Hope smiled, hesitating for a split second before leaning in to meet her lips again. “I’ll play that game anytime.”

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saidelia-draconis · 4 years

Note

✖ - a repressed memory

A strange, guttural retch. The searing light. The promise of new opportunity and a new day. The man recoiled as sunlight crept into the room and flooded his vision. It made him ill. As did everything at this hour. He could hear the chirp of birds and the whirring of insects deep within his skull. The sounds rattled through him, leaving an uncomfortable buzzing sensation. The pillow beneath him that smells of sweat was especially pungent. He felt unsettled. He felt like retching.

With the delicacy of a wounded man, he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling to the washroom. The basin laid out the night before still held the tepid waters within. He cast a nervous glance down at it. He cupped his hands, bringing the cool water up to his face, attempting to wash away the events of the night before. The water was tinged slightly red as it ran down his wrists, giving him pause. He allowed the bowl to steady, examining himself in the reflection of the small pool. Shrewd and glowering, beady little eyes stared back at him. A broad, and high forehead. What little hair he had left was thinning, and disheveled. Wide, rosy cheeks, and a bulbous red nose. A visage he hardly recognized any longer. Barely a man in his early thirties, he had aged years in a short span.

What drew his attention this morning was the unusual turn his nose took. Black blood dried on his upper lip. He hadn’t the faintest idea who, or what had been so cross with him as to knock him across the face. He only knew it was likely justified. A wave of shame washed over him. For a time, it almost distracted him from his splitting headache. He finished washing, no longer interested in the face staring back at him. When he had finished, he clasped the neck of a bottle, gazing down at the soft, amber liquid inside. ‘Next week,’ he told himself with a resigned sigh. He would have time to prepare that way.

He raised the bottle to his lips, choking back several mouthfuls of the acrid liquid, wiping his mouth. He also dashed a bit of the liquid over his nose. He nearly dropped the bottle. Tears welled up in his eyes. He clutched his nose, stopping short of touching the injured tissue. He balled up a fist, pounding the wall to distract himself from the pain. With slow, measured breaths, he recovered from the ordeal to find a figure standing half in, half out of the doorway. A wave of guilt washed over him. No doubt she had thought his fist in the wall was him trying to summon her.

“Papa? I heard you knocking. Are we going to the stable?”

He crouched down to her level, his eyes trying to meet hers. Her gaze remained downcast. The resentment she carried was almost palpable, though she would never voice it. She was six, maybe seven. He had lost count. The vibrant red hair that framed her face made him sad, bitter and, nostalgic all at once. Still, he quashed the ill feelings in favor of magnanimity. Or at least, as much as he was capable. He dropped his hand from his nose, holding his arms open. She did not approach.

“No, Sadie, I’m sorry. That wasn’t to you, I was...”

He stopped short, having no excuse.

“Never mind, I’m sorry, Sadie. I’ll be ready in a minute. Are you ready to get to the stables with me?”

“Yes, papa.”

He hardly stopped to dress. The clothes from the previous night hadn’t many more stains on them than the rest of his wardrobe. He threw on his drab overcoat, slipping the bottle into a sewn pocket inside. Just enough to carry him to the day’s end. He tried to take the girl’s hand as the two left the semi-dilapidated shack. She recoiled from his touch. He did not pursue.

The pair trod the dirt path towards the stable in silence, Oreyn still left with a gutted feeling. Worse still that he had none other to blame than himself. The bottle kept hitting him in the belly as he walked, a near-constant reminder. They were heralded with the stench of horses shortly before their arrival. The pair changed their boots in silence, stepping into the stable. The smell of horses only caused Oreyn’s stomach to turn. He handed Saidelia her shovel, nodding stiffly.

“You start with the new arrivals. I’ll start in the back.”

He left the girl to tend to half of his work. The easier half, he told himself. It did little to make him feel better. She should have started schooling recently. But it was a worry for times more plentiful. Holing himself up in the pen with the mare, he fidgeted with his coat, choking back more of the bottle in secret before starting. It did little to help his work, but the disquiet in his stomach was stilled for at least another few moments. Though it’d be back. It always was.

He worked in silence, the bottle stowed in a netting with nearby equipment. He took nips throughout his work as needed. Little by little, his troubles seemed less poignant. He felt better, less worried by his surroundings and his situation. He smelled the stables less. Instead, that sour, sterile smell that hissed in vapors up from his mouth to his nose. Before long, he was back in stride.

Without the little distractions, he worked tirelessly. Perhaps not efficiently, though he could muck the stables adeptly enough not to draw the ire of the stablemaster. He doubled back, checking the girl’s progress. Less than halfway done, he found her in the midst of trying to push the last of the soiled sawdust out of a pen. He felt a twinge of anger. What had she been doing all this time? He worked nearly half as fast as her, and she hadn’t woken up in any state similar to hers. He hit the head of his muckrake against the stone floor to get her attention. She jumped, dropping hers. It was several times taller than her. He tried patients, ultimately failing. His eyes scrutinizing her.

“Saidelia. I’ve gotten all my pens done by now, what the fuck is the holdup?”

“Sorry, papa. I--”

“You what? They’re either done, or they’re not. Are they done, or are they not?”

“Not, papa...”

“We’ve got shit to get done after this, pick up the pace.”

He shook his head, wandering down the rows of pens. He revisited his first stable, retrieving his bottle and taking another hearty slug before pocketing it. On his way back, he was approached by a lanky, tired-looking man in a tailored suit. He had wispy grey hair and a semi-permanent scowl. His face was contorted into a look of disgust as he surveyed the stablehand. His bloodied shirt, the various other stains that decorated his clothes.

“Draconis.”

“Mister Harrington. You need something?”

“I take it you didn’t receive my note, then.”

“I got shit to do, Harrington. Spit it out, or let me get back to it, yeah?”

“Very well. Since you evidently can’t work it out on your own, pepper was to be saddled and hitched prior to my arrival.”

He reached towards Oreyn, snapping his fingers inches away from the man’s face.

“That means get off of your pickled ass and get to work before I have words with Mr. Tember about the discrepancy of your instructions and your work.”

The rage within Oreyn roiled once again as he was ordered about by the domineering man. Unlike the child, Harrington posed a threat to him. He settled for sloppily applying the saddle, leading the horse to the post and handing the reins off to the scowling man. He thrust the bridle into the man’s chest with a venomous glare. Harrington smirked, starting the process of mounting his horse. Oreyn elected not to help.

“You know what I find so amusing about you, Draconis?”

He did not answer.

“You seem insistent that you’re above your station. Your... Noble heritage, as it was. Myself? I was the son of a cheesemonger. You were the son of some Grand Alliance general. Now I have business to tend to that involves more gold than you make in a year. And you? You stink of cheap bourbon when you wake up late in the morning. Not to mention your business with that fisherman last night... What is his name, Francis? You don’t even fight like you used to be a guard. But I suppose that’s hard when you’re piss drunk. Have a good day, Oreyn. Give my best to that little one of yours. Light knows she doesn’t deserve to have you.”

Harrington departed before Oreyn could retaliate. Just as well. He ran after the man, shouting curses that seemed to go either unheeded or unheard. He was left alone in the road, feeling foolish. He turned back to the stables, finishing his day with little more than a few murmurs of discontentment. It seemed that the girl was actively avoiding him now, not that he cared at this point.

The setting of the sun was sign enough that the day was over, the two of them walking back home together at a distance. The door swung open and shut with a loud clatter, almost threatening to fall off its hinges. The man ignored it, shaking his head. Instead, he rummaged about in the cupboards, pulling out anything he could make for dinner. Saidelia glanced up at him nervously, stepping out of arm’s reach. Her voice was uncertain. He paid her little mind, having given up on dinner, sitting at the table.

“Papa? Do we have dinner tonight?”

“No. Get your shit and go see Esther and Francis. I’ll figure it out tonight.”

He took a pull from his bottle as he waved her away. She didn’t need to be told twice. The sound of the door opening, and clattering against the frame once again. He didn’t bother to check for her, finally content with his solitude.

“Fuck sakes... Why’d you do this to me, Candice? Out in the boondocks, and I have to raise a kid by myself. I didn’t ask for this shit. I never even wanted the girl.”

The door opened once again. Saidelia had forgotten to grab the grubby blanket off of her bed. The man turned, realizing his error. Saidelia was already gone. The door clattered against the frame once again leaving the man sitting alone at the table with a fresh wave of guilt. Even in his haze, it managed to sting. He took another swig off of the bottle. He could only hope that the girl wouldn’t remember his remark. Neither of them would.

(Thanks for the ask, @kevyn-thornrough-deactivated202! I hope you come back to us soon.)

#Asks #Backstory #Prompts #Writing

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firebrands · 5 years

Note

Hi! Congrats on the follower milestone! :) I'm terrible at prompts so pls feel free to ignore this, but maybe a steve/tony bookstore au of some kind? TY 💖💕

peach, omg, this has been sitting in my inbox FOREVER anyway i hope you like this!!!!! (it… ended up much longer than i expected.) | on ao3

***

“if you don’t like people reading, then maybe you shouldn’t have opened a bookshop,” steve said evenly from where he’s seated, reading the newspaper. there was a cup of coffee steaming beside him that he’d prepared for tony, but before tony could even raise the mug to his lips he was distracted by a young man flipping through one of the books. he had cracked it open so widely that it had creased the spine, which steve knew tony hated.

“i didn’t say anything,” tony said, still wearing the scowl that had formed on his face when he’d see the boy open the book up.

“you didn’t have to,” steve smiled, putting the paper down and pushing the mug towards tony.

tony drank the coffee quietly.

they’d opened the store together a few months back, after finally finding the right spot in the middle of a university village. the place ensured that they’d get the foot traffic they needed to keep running.

their friendship had spanned longer than that, meeting through common friends and finding a shared love for literature. through the years and books they’d lent each other, they’d formed a fast friendship, and steve fell in love with the way tony preened over new books, the way he had a manic air about him as he set about organizing.

still, he kept his distance; it was a bad enough idea to start a business with a friend (even if the business was going well), but it just seemed too late to try for anything more. they’d known each other for almost a decade, now, and steve didn’t set out to fall in love, but that’s just the way it is.

“we’re getting a new shipment today,” tony said as he scrolled through his phone. “poetry. lots of college kids asking for it.”

“probably being discussed in english, then,” steve said, picking up the newspaper to stop himself from staring at the stubble that had grown on tony’s cheeks, meaning he hadn’t shaved this morning. it troubled him a little, still, that he’d notice these things.

tony hummed in response, then moved to his desk to go through the inventory.

“you didn’t tell me the orders were for derek walcott,” steve said, standing over two boxes full of ‘Collected Poems: 1948-1984′

“i didn’t know you liked him,” tony said from where he was leaning on the doorframe and watching steve.

without thinking, steve recited a few lines from memory: “the fist clenched round my heart loosens a little, and I gasp brightness; but it tightens again.”

behind him, tony sucked in a breath, surprised. “when have I ever not loved the pain of love? but this has moved past love to mania!” he quoted the next lines to steve excitedly. “i love that poem.”

steve bit his lip before plastering a smile on his face as he turned to look at tony. “never would’ve guessed,” he said, his heart hammering so hard against his chest it felt like it was cracking under the strain.

steve got in early, like he always did, and he flipped the sign on the door to from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ before he began brewing a pot of coffee. after a few minutes, he peered up at the sky as the first droplets of rain tapped against the window.

the cup of coffee was ready when tony came running in, shaking rain out of his hair as he shucked off his coat. “rain’s pretty bad,” tony said.

“i can tell,” steve answered, pushing the cup forward.

tony took a long drink before smiling at steve. “thanks,” he said, reaching over to squeeze steve’s forearm. “really.”

steve nodded at tony, smile tight. “any time.”

“no, really, steve. every morning, i always find myself looking forward to your coffee.”

steve continued to nod, not really knowing what to do with himself, hyper-aware of tony’s hand still on his, bare skin on bare skin, and they’d done this so many times, touched each other because it meant nothing but friendship to touch each other, except this felt different, somehow. all that’s going through steve’s head is tony’s voice, saying over and over again: “but this has moved past love to mania.”

steve gently pried his arm away from tony’s grip, thoughts flying unbidden to the end of the poem. hold hard then, heart. this way at least you live.

“i suppose we shouldn’t be expecting many customers today,” steve said, turning away from tony. “i’ll be at the back.”

and he was right; no one came in for an hour, and then another hour, and then it was lunch time and tony was standing by the door in his coat. he held steve’s jacket up to him expectantly. “how do you feel about getting some soup?” he asked, and he looked strangely chastened as he said so.

“soup sounds good,” steve answered, because he was a weak man when faced with tony’s sadness, no matter how nebulous.

“great,” tony said, brightening. “i have an umbrella that fits two and the perfect place in mind.”

the restaurant was only a block away, but it was raining hard enough that when they arrived, steve’s right arm was drenched, and tony’s left sleeve dripping water onto the carpet.

“he said it was big enough for two,” steve said apologetically to the waitress. beside him, tony huffed and stuffed the umbrella into the stand.

the waitress smiled at them and led them to a table. “just give us a sec, we know what we’re getting,” tony said, because this waitress was new, and they were here at least once a month.

steve leaned back on the chair and checked to see if his phone was safe as tony ordered a tomato soup for him, and pumpkin soup for steve. while waiting they talked about everything and nothing; updates on the book tony was reading, a story about a conversation steve had with sam after work.

“you’d think we’d run out of things to talk about,” tony says, laughing a little as their food arrived.

“yeah,” steve said, keeping the wistfulness from his tone. “that’s friendship for you.”

tony smiled back at steve, and began eating his soup.

steve tucked in as well, trying to keep the food down despite the sudden queasiness. he felt very young again, all of the sudden, having these feeling stirring in him. he’d had a lid on them long enough, but it was almost cliche that a poem would send them surging back. but he knew, too, that there was nothing for it; he’d ride the crest of his wave like all the times the feelings roiled inside him. then it would be normal again.

tony looked up from his food to say something, then stopped and reached over to wipe a bit of soup from the side of steve’s lip.

steve startled so badly he dropped his spoon, splattering pumpkin soup all over himself. he noticed the shocked look on tony’s face before he stood up abruptly, and he meant to go to the bathroom, but his legs thought otherwise, and next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of the park, three blocks away from the restaurant, soaked through.

he felt, vaguely, like the heroine of a romcom.

except, the thought dully, this is where the story ended. tony wasn’t going to run up and sweep him off his feet.

steve stood for a few more minutes, calmed by the steady beat of raindrops on the crown of his head, and then walked home.

miraculously, his phone was working, and he sent tony a text saying he just headed home for a change of clothes.

tony replied with a curt ‘ok.’ and steve was back in the shop in less than an hour (an hour he spent mostly thinking of an excuse for his behavior).

tony was standing behind the cashier when steve entered, and he raised an eyebrow at steve in greeting.

steve smiled, a little embarrassed, and then headed to the back room to pick up books that needed shelving.

tony, surprisingly, remained silent as steve set the box of books down and began filling up the shelves. steve let himself fall into the relaxed attentiveness of menial, repetitive work, and was jolted out of his reverie when he noticed a shadow over the now half-empty box of books.

tony looked at steve searchingly.

“you good?” he asked.

“yes,” steve said, standing up straight, confident because of the space between them.

as if noticing this, tony stepped over the box, making him almost chest to chest with steve.

“because–” tony started, reaching out for steve’s hand, which was still on one of the books. steve didn’t mean to draw his hand away, but he did.

tony breathed out through his nose. “because that’s a thing that’s happening,” he said, sounding displeased.

“nothing,” steve said haltingly, “nothing’s happening.”

“tell me what’s wrong,” tony ordered.

“nothing!” steve said, and tried to move past tony to the front of the shop, where he wasn’t trapped in between bookshelves and the love of his life.

tony sidestepped and blocked steve’s way. “oh, there’s definitely something,” he said, placing a hand on steve’s shoulder, as if to ensure that steve couldn’t escape.

“there’s really nothing to talk about, tony,” steve said as he took a step back and shrugged off tony’s hand.

“you keep doing that!” tony snapped.

“and you keep doing that!”

“so what?” tony yelled, hands thrown up in the air in exasperation.

“so what?” steve said shrilly, anger finally getting the best of him. “so stop touching me because it hurts because i love you!” he shouted, and then felt his breath catch.

tony took a step forward. steve took a step back.

they kept moving until steve was backed up against a bookshelf, neither of them saying a word as tony closed in on him, both of them just breathing, silent as if they were letting steve’s words settle in between them.

tony looked at steve defiantly. “say that again,” he said.

“no.”

“please,” tony whispered, but he didn’t have to; there was barely any space between them now, and the shop was quiet save for the rain tapping against the windows.

“tony–” steve felt trapped, and horrified, and embarrassed.

tony reached out to touch him, slowly, as if afraid to startle steve, and steve swallowed as he felt tony’s hand rest against his cheek.

steve’s breath was coming in short bursts, and he swallowed again as he looked at tony, one of his best friends, who he’d basically seen grow up since they’d met in college, tony, his business partner who made sure that they’d be sustainable and that their friendship didn’t crumble under the weight of shared responsibility, tony, who liked his coffee with two spoonfuls of brown sugar, tony, whose eyes were warm and lovely, whose cheeks were dusted pink–

“steve,” tony said, calling his attention, right before sealing the space between them with a kiss.

another semester passed, and they received another order of poetry books.

“it’s neruda, this semester,” tony had said from the back, where he was tearing tape off the edges of the boxes.

steve nodded distractedly as he filled up another order slip, only stopping his scribbling when he felt tony’s warm weight pressed against his side.

tony leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to steve’s cheek as he held up one of the books. he cleared his throat before he began to read: “te amo sin saber como, ni cuándo, ni de donde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo.” tony paused and looked at steve. “do you recognize this one?” he asked.

“no,” steve said, smiling at tony. “will you translate it for me?”

#steve x tony #stony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #things i write #asks #omg-just-peachy #bookshop!au #derek walcott #pablo neruda #added ao3 link!! it's almost 2k words my dudes jesus chriiiist

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