#and he goes off on this tirade and starts lecturing me and telling me that i have a problem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gingwrites · 2 years

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Jungkook and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (Or Not?) (Yoonkook)

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Summary: “Your friend’s in a stage four subdrop. Does he have a dom I can call that can meet us at the next stop?” the man asked, looking up at Jimin.

Subdrop? Dom? Jungkook was a neutral. How was he in a subdrop?

“What? How- He-” Jimin stuttered, mind racing. He’d never felt so lost before in his life. Jungkook was still panicking beside him, now clutching his chest as he tried to breathe. “He doesn’t have a dom. He’s a neutral!”

In a world of dom, subs, and switches, Jungkook always believed he was a neutral, until he goes into a sub drop on the bus. In steps professional dom Yoongi.

Pairing: Yoonkook

Tags: Non-sexual dominance; panic attacks; sub drop

Jungkook is having a shitty day. First, he sleeps through his three alarms, which means he didn't have time to eat breakfast if he wanted to make his bus, and he did because the next bus didn't come for an hour, which would definitely make him late for work.

Then, his bus broke down halfway to his stop, so his options were to either wait the hour for the next bus or run the rest of the way. He chose to run; he couldn't afford to be late. So then he showed up sweaty, and his boss got onto him for showing up "unprofessional."

The cherry on top of his crappy day was when he realized he forgot his lunch and his wallet at home. So now he couldn't even buy anything from the vending machine. Luckily, he still had his phone and his bus card on him. Maybe Jimin wouldn’t eat his entire lunch and he'd let Jungkook eat it on the bus ride home.

Everything that could’ve gone wrong had gone wrong, and Jungkook didn't think his day could get any worse. But of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

He was supposed to give a major presentation with his boss for some executives, but they were having technical issues and couldn't pull up the presentation in the conference room. Jungkook had no idea what was causing the issue. He'd visited the conference room that morning to make sure he would have everything set up and know how to run everything.

Luckily, the execs seemed to be very understanding and patient. He couldn't say the same for his boss. Jungkook could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. He knew he'd be in for a lecture when they were done.

Their presentation went off without a hitch after that, thankfully (his boss had stepped on a cord that fully unplugged the entire setup and she wasn't too happy when Jungbook figured out what had happened and tried to explain it to her). They even had their proposal approved, which Jungkook thought was great news.

But that happiness vanished into thin air when the meeting was over and his boss pulled him back to her office and all but slammed the door behind them.

"I can't believe you would embarrass me like that in front of the entire executive committee!" she screamed. "How dare you!"

Jungkook hunched in on himself. He'd never liked failing at anything, and he certainly didn't like getting yelled at. He didn't think he deserved this sort of reaction, but maybe he had been wrong and the execs had actually been upset. It wouldn't be the first time he'd misread a situation.

"First, you can't even work a basic computer, and then you have the gall to blame it on me? In front of everyone who matters in this company?" she continued her tirade, either unaware or uncaring of the emotions playing out on Jungkook's face and body language.

Maybe it really was my fault. I didn't tell her to watch out for the cords. I should've prepared for that situation when I practiced this morning.

Guilt started pooling in Jungkook's chest and he didn't know how to deal with it.

"And on top of all that, you showed up to work all sweaty and gross this morning. What if you had run into one of the execs on your way in? What do you think they would have to say about your professionalism? You're a disgrace to this company," she finished her rant and finally turned to look at Jungkook.

"And now you're going to cry about it?" she scoffed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were acting like a bratty sub, crying to get out of trouble."

There were four types of people in the world: doms, subs, switches, and neutrals. Everyone was tested when they turned 18. If you fell somewhere on the dom/sub spectrum, then you biologically needed to have some sort of dominant/submissive relationship in your life; it didn't have to be sexual.

Doms, subs, and switches were also assigned a number that correlated with how much dominance/submission they would need in their life. If you got a one, you could survive with very little dominance and submission, maybe having a scene only once every couple of weeks or so. On the other hand, if you got a ten, you would need scenes almost every day. If you didn't give the right amount of dominance/submission, you would become very sick.

Jungkook was a neutral. He'd always thought he'd be a submissive or at least a switch, but his test came back as a neutral. His parents had been very surprised, both being switches themselves.

"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?" His boss was now standing in front of him, tapping her foot,

Junghook lifted his hands to his cheeks, remembering that she said something about him crying. He pulled his fingers away, covered in his salty tears. When did that happen? Well, this wouldn't be the first or last time he'd cried at work, he figured.

"I'm speaking to you," his boss all but growled out.

Oh. He must've zoned out for a moment when he realized he was crying. That was new.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook was able to stutter out.

"That's all you have to say? 'I'm sorry?'" his boss mocked. "Just get out of my office. In fact, I don't want to see you again today. Go home and think about what you've done."

Jungkook's heart sank. He was being sent home? That had never happened before. But then again, he had never embarrassed his boss like that. He deserved it. He didn't deserve to be at work and around her.

Jungkook stood up, not wanting to make her more upset, bowing to her before quickly turning on his heel to all but run back to his desk to gather the few things he had brought with him today.

He made it two steps out of the building before he realized that it was barely mid-afternoon and he always met Jimin after work and the two rode the bus home together. Since he didn't have his phone with him, Jungkook didn't want to head home now and leave Jimin waiting for him with no way to contact the younger man.

Looks like Jungkook would be stuck waiting here for at least an hour.

Unfortunately, that gave Jungkook time to stew in his thoughts.

She was totally right. I screwed up the entire presentation and now the entire executive team knows how incompetent of an employee I am.

And I made her look bad when it was all my fault!

Who gave me the right to blame her? It was my job to set the presentation up. I should’ve been prepared for any possible thing to go wrong, including someone stepping on a wire. Why wasn’t I prepared for that?

I’m such a bad-

“Excuse me, but are you alright?”

Jungkook was pulled out of his swirling thoughts by a man crouching down in front of the bench he had been sitting on while he waited for Jimin.

“Do you need me to call your dom for you?” the man continued.

Dom? What’s he talking about? I’m not a sub or a switch?

“It’s not safe for you to be out when you’re in a drop. Is somebody already on their way for you?” the man went on.

“I- but-” Jungkook stuttered out, confused by the man’s words. Who would ever confuse him for a sub or a switch? And in a drop? Jungkook wasn’t the most knowledgeable about dynamics since he was a neutral and wasn’t required to take the in-depth courses like those with a dynamic were, but he did know the basics of a sub and dom drop. Why would the man think he was in a subdrop?

“I’m not- I don’t have a dom. I’m a neutral,” Jungkook was finally able to get out very quietly. His tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth and talking felt nearly impossible.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the man quickly apologized. “You were just displaying a few classic signs of a subdrop. Please excuse my mistake.”

The man stood up and bowed to Jungkook, who accepted his apology and waved the man off.

Instead of spiraling back into his thoughts about work, Jungkook was now thinking about how the man confused him with a sub.

Jungkook had taken the test, just like everybody else. And his paper had said “Neutral” in big block letters at the top. Not really that easy to miss it. Granted, both he and his parents had been surprised at the outcome, but they had all accepted it as the test was always right.

“What’s got you looking so blue?” Jimin asked as he walked up to Jungkook.

Jungkook looked up, shocked. Was it after five o’clock already? He really had gotten lost in his thoughts, didn’t he?

“Come on, we don’t want to miss our bus,” Jimin chided, holding out his hand when Jungkook didn’t immediately get up.

Now facing the daunting task of doing something other than sit on the bench, Jungkook felt like both his mind and body were moving through molasses. He slowly looked at Jimin’s outstretched hand and then back up to Jimin’s face. Jimin was looking at him expectantly, though his eyebrows started to furrow the longer it took for Jungkook to accept his hand.

“Okay,” Jungkook was able to get out. If he thought talking was hard earlier, it seemed nearly impossible now.

Jungkook used all his energy to place his hand in Jimin’s, using it to help him off the bench.

Once they started walking toward their bus stop, Jimin seemed to forget about Jungkook’s behavior since the younger man was following along and listening to Jimin talk about his day.

Jungkook didn’t remember arriving at the bus stop. He didn’t remember scanning his bus pass. He only realized he was on the bus when Jimin pulled him down into the seat next to him.

“Are you okay? You seem a bit off,” Jimin finally asked once they were comfortable in their seats and the bus started to move again.

It took Jungkook a minute to realize that Jimin had asked him a question and was waiting for an answer.

Jungkook nodded, knowing it would be impossible to try and get even one word out. What was happening to him? Could today get any worse?

Jimin looked unsure. He’d known Jungkook long enough to know when he was okay and when he was lying.

“Whatever it is that’s happened, just know that I’m here for you when you’re ready to talk about it,” Jimin reassured. He grabbed Jungkook’s hand in his own and squeezed, hoping the small comfort would help.

Before Jungkook could even think about responding, a lady at the front of the bus started yelling. It sounded like her pass had been rejected, and the driver wasn’t allowing her on the bus.

Jungkook flinched, the woman’s voice sounding too similar to his boss’s, which brought memories from earlier in the day to the front of his mind.

What if she fires me tomorrow? I won’t be able to afford my apartment. I won’t be able to afford food. It took me long enough to find this job. How will I ever find another one? Obviously, I’m not a good employee, so who would want to hire me anyway? I’m not even competent enough to run a presentation.

Jungkook started to spiral, no longer aware of what was going on around him. The events of the day caught up to him and it was all too much.

“Jungkook? Jungkook? Can you hear me? I need you to breathe,” Jimin tried to get his friend’s attention, but it didn’t seem to be doing any good. One minute the younger man was doing semi-okay, and the next, Jungkook was having trouble breathing. Jimin had no idea what was happening or what to do.

Jimin was about to pull out his phone and call one of his boyfriends when the man sitting across from the two of them got out of his seat and crouched in front of Jimin and Jungkook.

“Your friend’s in a stage four subdrop. Does he have a dom I can call that can meet us at the next stop?” the man asked, looking up at Jimin.

Subdrop? Dom? Jungkook was a neutral. How was he in a subdrop?

A flash of shock ran over the man’s face before he quickly schooled his features.

“Neutral or not, he’s in a stage four subdrop. If he doesn’t have a dom, he needs to go to the hospital or a care center. Or, I can help, if you’d let me,” the man spoke before patting himself down to find his wallet before he pulled it out and grabbed an ID card to hand to Jimin. “My name is Min Yoongi. I’m a certified dom care specialist. Here’s my official government ID stating that. If you scan that code at the bottom there, you can visit the government website to verify all the information. I know how scary it can be to trust a dom you don’t know.”

Still slightly in shock, Jimin pulled out his phone and scanned the code. If he was going to help Jungkook, he was at least going to make sure this man wasn’t a serial killer or something.

The government website loaded, and Jimin quickly scanned the page. There was a photo of Yoongi, along with all his demographic information, as well as specialities and a row of reviews at the bottom. He had five stars, so he must be okay, right?

“Please help him,” Jimin pleaded, looking back up at the man. At Yoongi. “I don’t know what’s happening or what caused it. He’s a neutral. I saw the test results myself. He seemed a little out of it when I met up with him after work, but he’s had days before where he’s been like that, though never near this bad. And then when that lady started screaming, then I felt him flinch and then he just started panicking!”

Yoongi nodded along.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Jungkook. And I’m Jimin.”

“Okay, good. Thank you for telling me, Jimin,” Yoongi reassured, knowing that he needed to comfort Jimin as well before things got out of hand and he had two subdrop cases on his hands. “Is it alright if I touch Jungkook?”

Jimin quickly nodded.

“Okay, good. Thank you.”

Yoongi reached out to take both of Jungkook’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs along the top.

“Jungkook, I know you can hear me. I’m going to need you to listen to my voice, and only my voice. Can you squeeze my hands?” Yoongi asked.

It took a few seconds, but Jungkook was able to lightly squeeze the older man’s hands.

“Good. You’re doing so good,” Yoongi praised. “My name is Yoongi. I’m going to help you, okay? Can you squeeze my hands again if you understand?”

A few seconds later, Jungkook repeated his earlier action.

“That’s great, Jungkook,” Yoongi continued. “Now we’re going to try and get a hold on your breathing. I’m going to count for you, and we’re going to breathe in for four, hold for seven, and then breathe out for eight. Do you think you can do that?”

Jungkook squeezed Yoongi’s hands without prompting.

“Great. You’re doing so great, Jungkook,” Yoongi reassured. “Now, here we go.”

Yoongi talked Jungkook through a few rounds of breathing, never stopping running his thumbs over the tops of Jungkook’s hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jimin’s sharp eyes on him, but he kept his focus on Jungkook for now.

A few minutes later, Jungkook had a better hold on his breathing, though his chest still felt tight.

“You’re doing amazing, Jungkook,” Yoongi praised after Jungkook was able to suck in a full breath without help. He then turned to Jimin. “Can you pull the cord for the next stop? My care center is right across the street, and I think it’d be best if we took him there and off the bus. And I can take him to my designated room to continue to help, or if you’d prefer, we can get another certified dom to help him.”

Jimin nodded, reaching his hand up to pull the cord for the next stop. Yoongi then turned back to Jungkook.

“Does that sound okay, Jungkook? I want to make sure you’re still comfortable. If at any point anything I do isn’t okay, then I need you to let me know. You won’t hurt my feelings and I won’t get upset,” Yoongi said softly.

Jungkook started to pull one of his hands out of Yoongi’s hold, and Yoongi’s heart dropped, thinking he’d already screwed up by holding the younger man’s hands. But Jungkook lifted his hand and pointed at Yoongi.

After a moment, Yoongi realized what Jungkook meant.

“You want me?”

Jungkook squeezed his hand that was still in Yoongi’s grip before slipping his other hand back into the dom’s hold.

“Okay, that’s great, Jungkook,” Yoongi said, relieved. “Now I’m going to tell you a bit about what’s going to happen when we get there, okay? Just so you know what to expect, and so does Jimin here. He’s been such an amazing friend, wanting to make sure that you're safe, hasn’t he?”

Squeeze.

Yoongi smiled. At least they weren’t having any trouble communicating even though it seemed like Jungkook was nonverbal in a drop. It wasn’t his first nonverbal sub, but every one was different.

“First, we’re going to get you checked in. That shouldn’t take long, and if Jimin could help out with the forms while I take you back to my room, then we’ll be all set.” Yoongi looked over at Jimin who nodded. Turning back to Jungkook, Yoongi continued,” Then we’re going to get you settled in my room. I have the softest blanket with your name written all over it.”

Jungkook perked up a bit. A soft and fluffy blanket sounded great right about now. Finally coming back into his body after the panic attack, Jungkook realized he was shivering.

Yoongi smiled at the reaction to the mention of the blanket. His room was completely covered in soft things for this exact reason.

“Once we get you all nice and warm, we’ll get you a snack. How does hot chocolate and a cookie sound? Our kitchen makes the best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever tasted,” Yoongi gushed.

Jungkook squeezed his hands, and as if in agreement, his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t had any lunch.

“Does he have any allergies that I should be aware of?” Yoongi asked, turning to Jimin, who shook his head.

“Okay, good. Then after that, we’ll get our cuddle on and see if we can bring you back up. Does that all sound okay, Jungkook?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook squeezed again, this time a little harder. Everything Yoongi described sounded amazing.

The bus started to slow down and Yoongi looked up.

“Perfect timing. Here’s our stop. Can you stand up for me, Jungkook? I’ll hold your hand the entire time,” Yoongi reassured.

With the help of Jimin, Jungkook was able to get to his feet. Moving them seemed daunting, but with a squeeze from Yoongi and Jimin at his other side, they helped him to the exit.

Luckily, the bus stop was right in front of the care center.

“Hi, Yoongi! Who’s this?” the receptionist at the front desk greeted them once they entered. Once he got a good look at Jungkook, his expression turned to one of worry.

“Hi, Namjoon. This is Jungkook and Jimin,” Yoongi replied, introducing the other two men. “Jungkook here is in a stage four drop, and I’m going to take him back to my room while Jimin fills out his paperwork.”

“Oh my! Of course!” Namjoon quickly turned back to his desk and shuffled around to find the right papers.

“I’ll come get you when he’s back up, okay?” Yoongi asked Jimin, knowing the other man would probably be worrying until he could see that Jungkook was alright. Jimin nodded in understanding. “Do you have a dom you can call while you wait? It’s been a stressful afternoon, and I want to make sure you’re going to be okay, too.”

“Yeah, I can call my boyfriend. I’ll need to let him know where we are anyways since he’ll be expecting me at home,” Jimin replied.

“Okay, good. You’ve done a great job getting help for your friend, Jimin. He’s safe now, so you can relax and know that you’ve done the right thing,” Yoongi praised.

Jimin’s cheeks turned pink at the praise, and he smiled shyly in thanks.

“Now let’s go get you that blanket,” Yoongi smiled and turned to Jungkook.

Jungkook was aware of what was happening, but it was like he was seeing it through a heavy fog. He knew Yoongi brought him back to a room and settled him onto the bed in the center of the room, but he wouldn’t be able to tell you what the room looked like or even the color of the walls.

Then, he registered the warmth surrounding his entire body. No longer having Yoongi’s hands to hold on to (he may have whined when Yoongi let go of them to grab the blanket, though he’d never admit it), Jungkook reached his hands out, but they ran into the softest material he’d ever felt. His fingers quickly gripped onto it, wanting to feel as much of the soft material as he could. He even lifted it up to run it over his cheeks a few times.

The fog lifted just the tiniest bit now that he was warm and knew that he was safe with Yoongi. Jungkook didn’t remember everything the dom had said on the bus, but he knew Yoongi had told him he was good, which made him feel warm inside.

“Can you open your mouth for me? I got your hot chocolate and a fresh chocolate chip cookie for you,” Jungkook managed to hear through the fog. Oh yeah! Yoongi had promised him a cookie! He quickly opened his mouth, feeling like a baby bird.

A warm cup was brought to his mouth and slowly tipped forward. Jungkook hungrily swallowed it down. Maybe he was just super hungry, but it was the best hot chocolate he’d ever tasted. Now he was warming up from the inside and out.

After taking a few sips of the warm drink, the cup was pulled away, and Jungkook let out another small whine. He didn’t have time to be embarrassed, as Yoongi told him to open his mouth again. Jungkook quickly complied, hoping for more hot chocolate. Instead, a small bite of cookie was placed on his lips. Jungkook quickly took it and ate it. Yoongi was right; this really was the best chocolate chip cookie ever.

After he swallowed, Jungkook didn’t wait for the instruction to open his mouth again and did it himself, not caring if he got another bite of cookie or a drink of the hot chocolate; either would be amazing.

Yoongi continued feeding Jungkook until the hot chocolate and cookie were gone. Jungkook was sad when he finished, but his stomach was no longer yelling at him, and he felt warm inside and out. The fog lifted a little more.

Strong arms wrapped around Jungkook after another moment and pulled him back against the fluffiest pillows he’d ever felt. Jungkook never wanted to leave this room. His bed in his own apartment was like a prison cell compared to this one.

Yoongi pulled Jungkook closer to his body, and Jungkook laid his head on the dom’s chest. He registered that the man was talking by the rumbling in his chest, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying. Surrounded by warmth, with food in his stomach, and a dom watching over him, the fog no longer seemed bad and Jungkook felt like he was floating. He let himself drift for a bit, knowing Yoongi would take care of him.

What could’ve been minutes or hours, Jungkook felt the fog start to lift, and his limbs no longer felt so heavy.

“Are you coming back to me, Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice rumbled from beside him. “You’ve been doing so well, such a good boy.”

Jungkook preened at the words. He never knew he wanted, no needed, to be called a good boy until now. He nodded, remembering that Yoongi had asked him a question.

“Good boy,” Yoongi repeated. “Since you’re starting to come back up, we’re going to do a couple of exercises, okay?”

Jungkook nodded again, not really sure what to expect, but he knew that he’d do anything to be called a good boy again.

Yoongi reached down and pulled the blanket up a little so that Jungkook’s feet were sticking out.

“Can you wiggle your toes for me?” Yoongi requested.

It seemed like forever since Jungkook felt like he’d had control over his limbs, so it took a few seconds, but he was able to move his toes back and forth.

“Good boy. Now can you move both your feet?”

Jungkook complied, moving both in circles.

“You’re doing such a good job,” Yoongi continued. “Now, can you wiggle your legs for me?”

Jungkook followed the request and shook his legs. He was starting to gain more feeling back in his limbs, and it felt good.

Yoongi continued on with his requests, moving from his fingers, to arms, all the way up to his head. Jungkook listened every time and moved as he was asked.

“You did great, Jungkook,” Yoongi praised. “Now, do you think you’ll be able to tell me how you’re feeling?”

Jungkook thought for a moment. He remembered how thick his tongue had felt in his mouth earlier and how difficult it was to force his jaw to move. Jungkook stretched his jaw a little, noticing that he was able to move with ease now.

“I’m still feeling a little floaty, but I feel a lot better,” Jungkook spoke for the first time since he’d left for the bus stop with Jimin.

“That’s totally normal,” Yoongi replied.

“What exactly happened to me? I’ve never felt like that before?” Jungkook asked.

“You were in a sub drop,” Yoongi spoke, continuing quickly once he noticed Jungkook opening his mouth to argue. “I know, Jimin told me you were a neutral, but I think that’s not the case. It’s not entirely unheard of for neutrals to go into sub drop, but it’s extremely rare, and never to that effect. I honestly think that your original test results were wrong and that it might be a good idea to get retested. We can do it here if you’d like.”

Jungkook was in shock. He’d spent his entire adult life thinking he was a neutral. How had he survived without having scenes? And how was his test wrong? It was never wrong!

“I know it’s a shock, but the test can be wrong. It doesn’t happen that often, but it does happen. Sometimes, people are just late bloomers and the test doesn’t catch it,” Yoongi answered Jungkook’s thoughts unknowingly. “Would you like us to do a quick blood test here? While you wait, I can bring Jimin back here. I know he’s been super worried about you.”

At the mention of his friend, Jungkook perked up. Jimin must’ve been so worried!

“Okay, let’s do the test,” Jungkook consented.

“Great. I’ll go get the nurse to come and draw your blood and grab Jimin on my way back,” Yoongi said.

The dom then began to pull away from Jungkook, which is when the younger man noticed that they had been cuddling this entire time they talked, and Jungkook blushed. When he had started to come back to himself, he had never felt more comfortable, safe, and warm in his life, and it was all because he was cuddling up to Yoongi’s chest.

Jungkook watched the dom leave, pulling the blanket back around himself. It was still super warm, and he loved the clean detergent smell.

A few moments later, a nurse knocked on the door. She was quick in her work, drawing the blood and leaving soon after. Jungkook was nervous. He didn’t know what he was hoping the outcome would be, if he was honest with himself.

Not long after the nurse shut the door behind her, it opened again and Jimin poked his head into the room.

“Jungkook!” Jimin cried, not wasting any time in running across the room and throwing himself on top of Jungkook. “You’re okay! I was so worried! Yoongi told me what happened. I’m so sorry that I didn’t see what was happening and couldn’t be more help!”

Jungkook pulled his friend into a hug before wrapping the blanket into a cocoon around the two of them.

“You did nothing wrong,” Jungkook reassured. “How could you have known that I was in a sub drop if we thought I was a neutral? And you did help! You let Yoongi help me.”

Jimin squeezed the younger man tighter.

“I never want that to happen again.” Jungkook could hear the pout in Jimin’s voice, even though he couldn’t see the older man’s face as it was buried in his shoulder.

“If you are a sub, we are going to find you a dom. I don’t care if it’s Hobi who needs to help you out, you’re never going through that again,” Jimin demanded, offering up his own boyfriend and dom in the process.

“If I am a sub,” Jungkook started slowly, “I think I wouldn’t mind seeing Yoongi as a dom, if he’ll have me.”

Jungkook felt heat rise to his cheeks at the admission. Granted, he’d never had any experience with a dom in a scene before, but Jungkook liked the way that Yoongi had made him feel. And if he’d been able to see the signs of a sub drop and pull Jungkook out of it in a safe manner, he had to be a good dom during a scene, right?

“Ooo, someone has a crush,” Jimin lightly teased.

“I do not,” Jungkook tried to deny, but he knew Jimin didn’t believe him for a second. He didn’t believe himself.

The two friends continued to cuddle together under the warmth of the blanket until another knock sounded at the door.

“We have your test results back, Jungkook,” Yoongi spoke softly as he stepped into the room holding a folder. He held it out to Jungkook once he got closer to the pair, and the two sat up as Jungkook reached for the folder.

“Are you ready?” Jimin asked once Jungkook had the folder in his hands. Jimin could see that the younger man’s hands were shaking slightly. “You know I love you no matter what, right? You’re my Jungkookie, and that’s never going to change.”

Jungkook looked up at Jimin and nodded, tears forming in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall right now.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook opened the folder.

In big block letters across the top was the word Submissive. On the second row, after the words ‘Submissive Ranking’, there was the number eight.

The rest of the page went into detail about what the information meant, including the ranking and what his options were, but Jungkook didn’t read them. His eyes focused on his status and ranking, still in shock.

How had he survived this long as an eight? He should’ve needed scenes at least a couple times a week!

Numb, Jungkook handed the folder over to Jimin, who gasped in shock.

“An eight?” Jimin asked, dumbfounded. He was a six himself, and he couldn’t go more than a week without a scene, and yet here Jungkook was, an eight, and he’d never had a scene before.

At Jungkook’s nod of approval, Jimin handed the folder over to Yoongi, who was just as shocked.

He then set the folder aside and sat down beside the two boys and wrapped his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder.

“First, I want to say how brave you’ve been today,” Yoongi started. “You’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster, and you’ve handled it like a champ. Second, I think you should make an appointment with a doctor as soon as you can, just to make sure you have no bad side effects from lack of scenes or that there’s nothing else going on.”

At Jungkook’s nod, Yoongi continued, “Third, as a professional care dom, I’m going to recommend you make an appointment with a dom as soon as possible, unless you already know somebody.”

Jungkook shook his head this time.

“Okay, that’s okay. Thank you for telling me,” Yoongi reassured. “If you’d like to continue your care here, we can make you an appointment on the way out. It doesn’t even have to be with me; you can look through our directory and we can find a great dom for you.”

Jungkook quickly shook his head. He didn’t want another dom; he wanted Yoongi.

“You.”

“I’d love to have you as a submissive,” Yoongi replied, trying to hide his smile. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would’ve been heartbroken if the boy had chosen someone else. He’d only known Jungkook for a very short period of time, but Yoongi knew that he would be a great submissive, and it didn’t hurt that he was super cute. Yoongi would especially love if he got to know the sub outside of scenes as well. Something was telling him that this sub would become an important part of his life.

“Okay, let’s go make that appointment! Hobi’s waiting for us in the lobby to take us home!” Jimin said excitedly.

The three made their way back to the front desk. This time, Jungkook was more aware, and tried to remember how to get back to Yoongi’s room. Hopefully he’d be seeing it again really soon.

An appointment with Yoongi was made for two days later, and Jungkook couldn’t wait. Namjoon promised to email Jungkook with all the paperwork that he would need to fill out before he came.

“I’ll see you in two days, but if you start to feel like you did earlier, please call. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, someone will answer and get you forwarded to my cell,” Yoongi said.

“I promise, I’ll call if I need to,” Jungkook agreed. “See you in two days?”

“See you in two days.”

Jimin then practically dragged Jungkook out of the care center, rambling on about how Jungkook was going to spend the night at his apartment and how they were going to cuddle the entire night. That sounded like a good plan to Jungkook, and he didn’t argue.

Before the door slammed shut behind them, Jungkook turned around to get one more peek at Yoongi. The dom waved goodbye, and Jungkook’s cheeks pinked at being caught. He quickly raised his hand to wave back. Two days couldn’t pass by soon enough.

As Jimin continued to list off the things that they were going to do that night, Jungkook realized that maybe his day wasn’t so crappy after all.

Me? Writing a completely new fic instead of updating my WIP? More likely than you think? I hope this is actually good. I had this idea after reading another fic, and just loved the idea and had to write it. Let me know what you think!

And if you're reading my Untitled Vampire AU, I am actually in the process of doing a slight rewrite of the parts currently published, and then I want to write the rest of the story before I actually post any more parts, so that way when I post again, you all don't have to wait months until another part; I can just post them back to back.

Let me know what you think of this! And follow me on twitter (@/yoongismandu) or check me out on ao3 (@/newtmasofficial). Both are linked in my masterlist.

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starlightshadowsworld · 2 years

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@strangevol Your question just reminded me that I may have... Completly forgot about Zane... In this AU.

So I thought I'd answer that here with the rest of the Zane stuff 👍

Sooo Zane isn't actually part of the childhood friends squad. He met and befriended Atticus during there time at Dual Academy, didn't know each other before that. Which also extends to the group and Syrus.

(Side note: I'm kinda indifferent to Syrus soo he's not really apart of this AU, sorry to any Syrus fans. I just don't have much to say about him or care to fit him into this. He's just kinda there, he's friends with Jaden and that's really it.)

Zane is a sort of mentor to the others, keeps an eye on Alexis and by proxy her friends as a kind of promise to Atticus. Because yes he still goes missing.

After Atticus returns he become closer to the others, getting dragged to family events and even starts to consider the group as friends.

Forced socialisition = friendship 😂 apparently

Becoming the reluctant dad figure of the group as in he gives them lectures, is stricter than Aster and checks every so often that there still alive.

In fact Zane gets on the best with minus Atticus is Aster and will later realise... Through a lot of midnight talks with the others will realise that they both have feelings for each other.

Though Aster doesn't officially join Dual Academy till Jaden's in his second year and despite having the choice to go into the 3rd year he transfers into the 2nd.

Because Ra dammit Jaden someone needs to keep an eye on you. Also yes this is slow burn... Like very slow burn it is almost painful how long it takes. Like both act like a married couple and don't even see it.

Also means Zane doesn't go batshit insane and start electrocution himself from losing a dual with Aster. Both are fiercely competitive but always ensure proper dualing etiquette and respect.

Especially Zane he's a real stickler for the rules and politeness.

Season 3 is just Aster being like damnit Chazz I left you in charge for 5 minutes... Zane grab your coat the kids have gone missing, Bastion you stay here and wait. And no we aren't done talking about this, Zane grab my coat as well. What were they thinking?! Oh right they weren't... I swear once I get my hands on them...

And Zane is just silently grabbing there things, worrying about the others but determined to get them free... And than watch Aster verbally tear them apart... Should bring marshmallows 2 incase they get hungry.

They get transported in and he's just following Aster as he goes on his tirade, helping of course.

Girlboss and malewife, there I said it. Like Zanes flying the helicopter that Asters gonna jump out of.

Zane is also the voice of reason most of the time and sometimes he just gets bored of socialising and wanders off to the lighthouse without telling anyone.

Zane also joins the pro leagues and he and Aster have a scoreboard over how many times they've beaten others or each other.

#Seto adopts Jaden #Zane truesdale #Jaden yuki #Aster phoenix #Aster x Zane #Yugioh #Yugioh gx #proshipping

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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This is so utterly stupid but I have a few HC’s about Muslim Dabi(again obv this isn’t canon I just think it’s funny)

-Dabi would def be the type of Muslim dude who claims to be super religious cuz he never eats pork and “goes to the mosque to pray”(which is actually just code for hitting a blunt in the back of the parking lot w Hawks and Shigaraki💀), but yet smokes^^ and still has hella sex with like every other girl who bats her lashes at him from across the dining hall

-he also is a big cat lover, he claims since the Prophet Muhammad had cats of his own it’s sunnah to keep one

-on Eid namaz he’s the most dripped out one at the session, I’m talking black kurta dress, nice ass watch, slicked back hair...but funny enough, no one has actually seen him in line for the prayers themselves

-if he were back at home with the rest of the Todoroki’s, he’d most definitely be THE MOST spoiled one. Fuyumi would get on his ass for not cleaning the dishes, but he’d wave her off and tell her it’s training for her to be a better housewife for her future husband(cue a soapy sponge thrown at his head)

-Snitches.Constantly. Bro like this dude catches Shoto on his phone when he’s supposed to be doing a dua? Boom, instant callout followed by a long ass lecture about how he’s straying away from his religion and how he’s going to hell just because he spent one measly moment on his device instead of praising da lord

-Hes also always telling fuyumi to cover up her sleeves that come just a bittt before her wrists, claiming that she’s showing too much skin(especially when Hawks is over, that fucker’s got his eyes on every single one of his family members). But she’s quick to point out his secret tattoos, piercings, and hair dyes. He just scoffs and pulls the “women were created lesser than men so it’s okay for me to act a fool but not for you” card🙄stg I can’t stand him

-Since he’s the closest to Natsu, he’s always giving Eid money to him the most. The dude will slouch against his favorite brothers’ door, watching him play 2K. “What do you want?” Natsu asks with no real malice, not taking his eyes off the changing screen, furiously clicking away on his controller. “Mom says you gotta iron your clothes, Fuyumi’s doing her own so she can’t do yours as well. Oh, and Eid Mubarak by the way.” Natsu pauses him game and stands to stretch his arms above his head, groaning at the tendons popping in place on his back. “Yeah man, you too-what’s that?” He points to a fat parcel in Touya’s hand. The white-haired boy grins and chucks the bulging package at him, which Natsu catches easily. His eyes widen when he tears open the cream-colored paper envelope and reveals dozens of bills exceeding the usual 5-10$ family limit. “Yo, what-how-thanks Touya!” He sputters, throwing the package on his bed and throwing an arm around his brothers’ back in a man-hug. Touya rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a smile at Natsu’s excitement,(something he’s always wanting to be the source of) pounding his back to let go before he asphyxiates. He lets go and Touya smirks before heading towards the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’d thank Sho-turd as well while you’re singing my praise.” Natsu stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the withdrawing slender figure. “Why?”. Touya’s voice is distant as he moves to close and lock his door. “‘Cuz it’s his money after all.”

-The two brothers are always waking up at Sehri the earliest in Ramadhan, just so they can scarf down a majority of the food in the fridge and go to sleep without having to interact with the rest of their family at sunrise. And in the case that their family DOES wake up in time to see them chomping down food made for a WHOLE FAMILY and not just two boys, Touya is quick to grab his keys and jacket and cackle that him and Natsu are going to iHop to eat some more. Natsu ofc is quick to follow pursuit, throwing an apologetic grin towards his parents and other siblings.

-When they’re at the mosque and Enji has somehow bullied him enough to sit the hell down and actually ATTEND the lectures for once, Touya still has one up his sleeve. Planned out strategically, he always simpers to Rei that he wants to donate to the mosque, causing her eyes to water and a handful of cash thrown his way, her voice wobbly as she praises her son for actually taking the foundations of his religion seriously. Unbeknownst to her however, this just means that he’ll take a little bit more than he gives. Hawks will be standing at the front of the hall, bowing his head and using his silver tongue to graciously thank the many men and women who come forth to drop their allowance into the money basket. When he sees his best man approaching, he has to stop the smug grin from reaching his ears, instead slanting his brows and holding the basket out to the now black-haired thief. “Glad to see you’re taking eternal damnation seriously, for once,” Keigo flashes his perky whites and Dabi drops Rei’s money into the donation basket, dipping his hand a little lower for a second. “Glad to see you’re still standing here like some busboy peasant, as usual,” he fires back, the two boys catching each other’s eyes and stifling their cackles as the patched hand withdraws, a copious amount of bills in his hand, more than what he put in.

-100% steals shoes. Usually you hear about older men doing this, but age aint nothin’ but a number to Dabi, baby. “Nice kicks,” he nods to a boy Natsu’s age, noting the blue and black minimalist patterns adorning the shoes. The boy recognizes Dabi as one of the most revered figures at the mosque (and the most featured by adults. Who’d want their kid hanging out with the eldest Todoroki as an influence?) and bobs his head excitedly, spewing out the manufacture and release dates of the shoes. Dabi looks at the fanboy amusedly, continuing to lean against the shoe rack as more people crowd around and start to push the boy inside. “See you later Dabi!” The eccentric kid calls out as he’s pushed into the hall by grumbling uncles. The ravenette snickers fo himself, “Yeah, but you won’t be seeing these shoes anytime soon.”

-A notorious playboy in the community. Uncles glare at him, unable to scold him outright for his shenanigans due to his father’s close presence, and aunties steer their children away from him at dinner parties. Speaking of, Dabi’s at a dinner right now. He’s lighting up a joint in amongst 3 mesmerized girls sitting on the floor in front of him and 2 jealous dudes his age in a locked room, away from all the screaming little kids. “Wow Dabi, doesn’t it burn?” The youngest of the three girls asks him with imploring eyes. He smiles a charming smile down at her and he thinks he sees the other two swoon. “Nah, sweetheart, you get used to it after a little while. Don’t be like me though, keep yourself pure and clean,” he shoots a wink at them and they giggle, faces turning red. The other two boys sitting at the far end of the bed scowl at his successful flirting, but Dabi doesn’t care for any of them, honestly, they’re just target practice. Right as he inhaled the fumes of another puff, a little body throws itself at the door, banging its fists on the wood. “It’s time for food!” They all jump at the intrusion and chuckle as the intruder runs away, containing to scream about food being served. The group gets up to leave and exits through the door, but Dabi takes his time. He wasn’t done with his joint, and he has to waft the smell away anyways when he leaves. He’s opening a window to let out some air when he heads a soft shuffle from behind him. “Shows over guys, go eat-“ but when he turns around, the oldest girl of the three stands before him, fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor. “Um, Dabi? I know you said not to try it out by ourselves so...I was wondering if you could-if you could teach me how...?” She looks at the half-used roll in his hand, and he looks from the blunt to her face. He looks behind her. A closed door. Perfect. Taking a step forwards, he relishes in how she takes a hesitant step back, the breath in her throat catching but she still doesn’t back down. She looks to him like he’s a god, and he feels like one right now. And so he steps closer until she’s backed against the wall, his lids lowered to her wide ones, and he placed a hand next to her head. “Didnt your mom ever tell you not to take things from strangers?” He ghosts by the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “She never told me the strangers would be this hot,” and he has to laugh a bit at her tenacity. He pulls away and flops back on the bed, signaling for her to join him. “Well come one then, I’m hungry, better hurry up before I change my mind.” And 5 shotguns later, Dabi barely wipes off her bright pink lipstick from his face and straightens his kurta along with his hair before bounding down the steps, eager for food. At his command, she comes down a minute after him as to not cause any suspicion, but it doesn’t stop Rei from shooting him a knowing glare from the living room as he piles his plate with food. He shoves a veggie roll in his mouth as he turns to join the boys in the dining area, but his path is blocked by a large woman. “I know you’re up to no good. The children told me what funny smell was coming from the room upstairs, and I know you’re to blame, Touya Todoroki. I respect your mother a lot so I won’t make a scene here-“ he interrupts her, mouth half full with a roll, “-I mean, you already kinda are,-“ but she continues her tirade. “-I don’t think you’re a good influence on these kids, especially your siblings. What self respecting family would be okay with their son acting like a hooligan, having piercings, smelling like weed?” He smirks and swallows before swerving around her. “I don’t know Aunty, why don’t you ask your daughter? She didn’t seem to mind my, ah, influence.”

-When they were all younger, there was a time where End*avor wanted the boys the toughen up a bit and stop messing around so much. He brought the family up to the mountains in a nice cabin, purposefully choosing an area with farms nearby. It was around the time of Eid-e-Adha, so naturally goats and sheep’s were going to be sacrificed for the family feast. Touya already knew what was going on, so Enji left it up to him, a scrawny preteen boy to take over the initiation. Fuyumi wanted to come to the farm too, but Touya glared at her and told her to stay home because “girls are too emotional for this.”(he really did think that, but above all he held a secret soft spot for his only younger sister). Natsu and Touya both started heading down to the field to pick out a goat, and ofc little Shoto wanted to come along to. He begged and begged for his older brothers to bring him along and to not leave him at home for once, and with a sly glance to Natsu, Touya relented. He leaned down to Shoto’s eye-level and asked with serious eyes, “You sure?”. Shoto nodded eagerly, standing straight up as to look more solemn and mature. Natsu held back a snicker and grabbed Shoto by the collar as they dragged him out to the pasture. Oh, the little boy was in heaven among the bleating sheep and fluffy coats. “Go ahead, pick one out!” Touya said eagerly, nodding to the clueless toddler to choose a sacrificial sheep. And so the heterochromatic child pointed to one, looking to his big brothers for assurance, to which they gave an excited nod. Shoto yelped with glee and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking with the soon-to-be-mutton chops, completely oblivious to its grim fate and creating a bond with the animal. So when it was finally sunset and the time came to start preparing for the feast, Touya walked over leisurely to Shoto, pushed the grubby hand away from the animal’s collar, and started pulling the creature towards the chopping block. “W-what’re you doing?” Shoto asked uncertainty. “Well, we gotta eat, right? Thanks for picking out such a fat sheep, ‘wonder how it’s gonna taste,”. The eldest grinned with malice at his youngest brother, who started to sniffle and ball his fists. “You’re lying! Leave it alone!” He cried out. “Nope, m’not lying, ask Natsu.” Natsu turns to Shoto and shrugs his shoulders without any real regret. “You’re the one who wanted to come along, right? Think of how proud dad will be of his favorite-he finally sacrificed his first sheep!”

-the first time he was ever asked to lead the namaz, Keigo and Tomura kept kicking the back of his legs so he would fall over while trying to recite the prayers, and in turn he’d immediately whip around in the middle of the whole damn hall and shoot fire at the two howling boys. Needless to say, he was never asked to read again

(one would think since Dabi knows sooo much about being a gOoD mUsLim and how to follow the rules he’d take some of that advice HIMSELF)

#dabi #dabi headcanons #touya #touya headcanons #muslim mha #mha headcanons #touya todoroki #mha crack #bnha #mha #bnha dabi #mha dabi #mha toya #bnha touya

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

Of Lacking Spectacle(s)-Vergil/Reader

Summary: Vergil is a lot of things. Vergil is the Dark Slayer, The Alpha and The Omega, and the eldest son of Sparda. Vergil is also….in need of glasses?

Tags/Warnings: Suggestive Ending, Gender-Neutral Reader, Dante Read The Lord Of The Flies, Inspired By Vergil’s Buddy Holly Glasses Mod

Read It On AO3

Thank you @drusoona for sending me the pictures of Vergil that inspired this. The title is a reference to Gus Dapperton’s song Of Lacking Spectacle.

-Rodeo

(Picture Credits: @drusoona)

Vergil was always so precise and capable, sensing demons from distances away and predicting attacks with pinpoint accuracy.

He was intense, his eyes purely focused on the task ahead of himself. A man of pure drive and prowess. And he was your man.

It came gradually, something he tried to ignore. A few sentences of blurred lines would quickly flicker back to clarity. A small pain that flashed behind his eyes after reading in a room too dark.

It didn’t look obvious to anyone. Even to his ever-doting beloved. He was the son of Sparda, a demon that surpassed Death multiple times. There was no way he could have failing vision. Impossible, he would scoff to himself as he rubbed his eyes.

This statement soon turned from ignorance to denial of a very real problem Vergil avoided showing. His always narrowed stare hid it quite well.

An anthill turned into a mountain he could no longer stamp down. And his beloved had already watched it build up for some time, waiting for the stubborn devil to say something about it.

Which he didn’t.

So when you were cooking some mac and cheese from a recipe you found from a friend who knew a friend who knew a friend who asked her son for the recipe, you decided to strike up the question.

“Vergil.”

“That is my name, yes,” Vergil said from the couch, enraptured in a new book you bought him. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Are you having vision problems?”

“Of course not.” Hand on your hip, you pointed your rue-covered spatula at him.

“Then why is your nose literally in that book?” Vergil used to always be found with his book at arms-length as he would silently recite the words.

He stilled. He quickly readjusted himself and coughed.

Jackpot.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me in front of my macaroni.” You threaten, stirring the pot. He sighs.

“My vision is just fine.” Vergil insists, squinting at the blurred words.

“Vergil, I think you have vision problems.”

“That’s foolishness.”

“Why so?”

“My father was a powerful demon, bad vision should not run in our family-”

“Didn’t your dad wear a monocle?”

His mouth dries and his eyes widen in realization. Oh god it was genetic. You have won the tirade and you puff your chest out.

“How about I take you to the eye doctor? I can call later and set up an appointment.” Vergil has closed the book and chosen instead to look at you.

The macaroni is boiling, a u-shaped pasta you are rather fond of. Your apron is speckled with flour and you twiddle the spoon in your hand.

“Come on, it’ll be super quick. Just read some letters off a wall.” You say as you add burrata into the cheese blend. Vergil always liked that kind of cheese.

When you went grocery shopping, he really thought you wouldn’t notice him taking more than three samples of it when no one was looking before walking off like a successful sample thief.

Upon the sound of a bag of his favorite cheese opening, Vergil got up. You smile. You go to offer him a bit before quickly snatching it away from his hand. He tuts at you.

“You can have some if you agree.”

“Agree to what?” You sigh.

“Eye doctor.”

“No need. I am fine.”

You turn to stir the pot of delicious pasta before going back to lecturing this stubborn devil.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been squinting more and having headaches.” You state. Vergil scolds himself, thinking he was much more hidden about his new problem.

He is quiet as he stares off into the pot of macaroni.

“Please? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You put your other hand on his cheek. He looks at you finally, ice-blue glaciers warming at your loving and concerned expression.

God, his mate was so soft. He pulls your non-occupied hand to his other cheek-

And snatches the bit of burrata out of your fingers with his mouth. You make an offended noise at his trickery.

“Very well.” He muses.

You call up a local eye doctor after a hearty bowl of mac and cheese.

Taking Vergil to the doctor was like taking a cat to the vet. He sat in the waiting room with his arms crossed and eyes intensely out-alphaing everyone in his general proximity.

When they finally call your names, the ice was broken and people finally felt safe to breathe in his absence.

The eye doctor guides Vergil to the examination room. Vergil does not like it already. Why would you do this to him?

He waits at the door, waiting for you to come in with him.

“Sir, this is more of a personal test.” You shrug and blow him a kiss as he is ushered into the room

“How long has it been since you’ve had an eye test?” The doctor asks, Vergil taking a seat with a strange contraption before him.

“I have never had an eye test.” Vergil declares. The doctor laughs and swings the phoropter down. Vergil flinches slightly.

“Whoa now. Just set your chin here and look into the eye holes. This isn’t some medieval torture device.” He growls at the humiliation before doing so.

A series of lenses swiping through and the repeating question “which one looks clearer” later, Vergil is liberated from the examination room. He is greeted to you sitting and waiting for him.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” You ask. Vergil nods. You turn to the doctor.

“So how is his vision?” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Well, the letter Z was on the board and I asked him what he saw and he said triangle.” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Your husband is in dire need of glasses.” Vergil raises an eyebrow at that statement.

Your husband, he likes that. You don’t even correct him.

Luckily, this clinic also sold frames and Vergil is able to pick out a few while you do the paperwork.

You remember Vergil has no taste and quickly go to help him.

“No, no, well maybe, no, ew.” You respond as Vergil swaps various frames about.

“My love, I simply need the lenses. These materials mean nothing.” He argues as you deny the tenth pair of frames.

“Well, you’re very handsome and I’d like you to get a nice pair that matches.” You say. You go to make a smug face at him when you realize he has finally walked away to pick out his own.

You immediately drop the frames you were holding when Vergil places a certain pair of thick black-colored glasses upon his nose.

“We’ll take them.”

Several weeks later, Vergil is bestowed his new reading glasses. He finds his problem vanishes quickly and he can now read at a decent distance away. You seem to greatly appreciate them. Strange. On jobs, he usually takes them off and stores them in the little case he was given.

He thought of it as weakness. If his own body was failing to maintain 20/20 vision, he should be ashamed. In the demon world, any bit of weakness meant imminent death.

Yet, he told himself he wasn’t in Hell anymore. He was having breakfast with his beloved and he was safe. And he was privileged to be allowed for his body to take a break and age as it should have, his vision waning as a normal man would have at his age.

You kiss him goodbye for another day of work and you push his glasses up as they tip slightly down. His nose does the little scrunch you love so much. So much, you kiss him on the bridge of the nose. He purrs and promptly cuts a portal to work.

He walks into Devil May Cry to work with his brother. Dante is upstairs, the sounds of a shower happening.

Vergil takes to the paperwork his brother has ditched doing once more, typing on a clunky keyboard. You had insisted to pay extra for blue-light protection and he finds it is so much easier to see the computer screen.

Finally, the water is shut off. His idiot brother is done wasting work hours. Well, when is he not?

Vergil continues looking through yellowed documents as Dante passes by, smelling like strawberry soap marketed for children.

Dante walks forward but then puts himself in reverse to see Vergil with glasses on again.

“Yes?” Vergil grits his teeth.

“Those are glasses.” Dante starts.

“Yes, yes they are.”

Dante snorts and points at him.

“Buddy Holly looking ass bitch.” Vergil stops and glares at his brother.

“I don’t even know who that is.”

Dante wheezes at he keeps looking at Vergil.

“Of course you don’t, you bag of bones! You look like a college RA.”

“Dante, get to work-”

“What are you going to do? Tell the dean on me? Is that why you were gone a couple weeks ago?”

“I had an appointment-”

“I hAd aN aPpOiNtMeNt.” Dante mocks.

“That’s rich coming from someone without insurance coverage-”

His spectacles are snatched from his face. Dante puts them on.

“How do you see with these on? Damn, you’re legally blind.”

“That’s why they’re mine-hand them over!”

“You sound like Piggy from Lord of the Flies. My specs! My specs!” Dante mocks in a terrible English accent.

Vergil growls in anger.

When Vergil comes home with his glasses off, you wonder why. The blue devil comes behind you while you make some soup, hands on your waist and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

He’s quiet and in a way that is not his usual silence. He seems to have something on his mind. This time, you choose not to push it and let him be.

It isn’t until you’re both in bed, the lamp on as Vergil goes to take out a new novel. He hesitates when he reaches for his black glasses.

“My love?”

“Yes, Vergil?”

“Who’s Buddy Holly?”

Weird question but okay.

You search up the name on your phone and show him a picture. He puts on his glasses.

“Why would Dante think I look like that?” He asks himself with a frown. Upon realization, you put your hand on your mouth and fight back a laugh.

“Did Dante say that?” Vergil rolls his eyes.

“Of course he did, amongst other things.”

“Well, I think you look very nice. Like a very sexy college professor.” Vergil smugly looks at your bedroom eyes. The novel is long abandoned on the table.

Before he can pounce on you, he goes to take off his spectacles. You snatch them and place them back on his face.

“Keep them on this time.” You bite your bottom lip teasingly.

Vergil purrs.

He might get used to this.

[More Photos Of Vergil’s Mod-Credited To @drusoona]

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda #vergil imagines #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry imagine #dmc vergil #vergil #fluff #devil may cry #devil may cry vergil #gender neutral reader #rodeo used butcherknives' recipe for this fic #rodeo is lactose intolerant and a bite of mac and cheese will vibe check her straight to hell #drusoona's pictures

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panharmonium · 4 years

Photo

you know what?

no. absolutely not.

i already did part 1 of this post here. i’m back again with part 2, because unfortunately the awfulness factor doesn’t stop with arthur, and as much as i adore hunith generally, this entire sequence is a MESS.

and yes, i am aware that pretty much nobody else thinks so. every time i see this scene referenced in fandom, it is always framed as a fun, cutesy, sing-songy moment of “oooo, hunith ships merthur!” literally every time.

which, you know, like i always say about everything fandom-related - that’s fine. everybody is going to enjoy things differently; you do you, and keep on having fun! but here on my own blog, in my own space, i am gonna do me, and in this case ‘me’ involves yelling about how much i can’t stand that particular read, and how angry the end of 1.10 makes me.

disclaimer, to help folks curate their own fandom experiences: i am going to be Very Cranky for the rest of this post. if you love this particular scene in the way i just mentioned, you will probably want to scroll on by, because this piece of meta most likely won’t be your jam. as always, these are my personal thoughts and nobody is obligated to share them, so please do not hesitate to simply skip this post if we are on different wavelengths - instead, keep enjoying fandom in whatever way is most fun for you!

fair warning now given, off i go on a long, frustrated tirade.

i already wrote about the first half of this scene, where arthur decides that the appropriate thing to do at this particular moment is to give merlin a scolding about the evils of sorcery, despite the fact that the only reason arthur is even alive to deliver this lecture in the first place is because merlin’s ‘sorcerer’ best friend just DIED saving arthur’s life. but sure, you know what, let’s use said best friend’s funeral to chastise merlin about how “dangerous” sorcerers are. let’s just make that completely dickheaded decision.

and, moving on to the second half of this scene - here’s the thing. hunith overhears this entire conversation. she overhears arthur telling merlin off about sorcery, in front of the burning corpse of merlin’s best friend, who is, as far as arthur knows, the ‘sorcerer’ who died saving arthur’s life.

and yet, for some inexplicable reason, hunith still cannot get off the arthur pendragon train for two damn seconds.

she has known arthur for less than a week. by contrast, she has known will for his entire life. but the instant arthur walks away, hunith sidles up next to merlin and says, “you’d better be going” - like. okay, my god, can you try to hustle him away from his best friend’s in-progress funeral any faster????? how about we maybe give him a second? the pyre hasn’t even burnt down yet, and merlin hasn’t had a single second to himself since this sequence started. he’s had to stand there and listen to arthur insult the dude who everyone is supposed to be memorializing, and then hunith - who overheard the entire thing - zips right over and tries to chivvy merlin on his way. you’d better be going.

HELLO?! the pyre is still roaring. how about, instead of hassling merlin and hustling him offstage, everybody just sits down and waits for a minute. how about they all just leave merlin alone for three everloving seconds.

honestly, just - every time i think about this scene i get angrier.

i love hunith, and i know she’s well-intentioned. but everything she gives merlin in this scene is the exact opposite of what he needs. he doesn’t need to be hurried off the village green like there’s some reason he can’t stay there for the entirety of his friend’s funeral. he doesn’t need to be pushed into going back to camelot when he is clearly struggling with the idea of leaving ealdor again. and he absolutely does not need to be told how much someone else “needs” him right now, when he himself is the one who is having a fucking crisis and who needs someone to take care of him.

i cannot emphasize that last point enough. it is just - beyond upsetting to me that hunith literally watches arthur shitting on merlin’s dead best friend (and, by proxy, merlin himself, since merlin is the actual sorcerer) and she still somehow thinks the right thing to do is walk over and start telling merlin how great arthur is and how arthur “needs” him and how merlin “belongs at arthur’s side.”

i can’t stand that. it makes me so angry. it’s not right. it’s not fair. it’s damaging. it’s the same shitty messaging that destroys merlin’s life in later seasons, this idea that he exists for someone else’s sake, the complete disregard for what he himself might want at any given moment, for what he himself might need, for the reservations he might have about this plan that other people have formulated for his life.

he is UNCOMFORTABLE when she says these things to him! he doesn’t look at her; he shifts his gaze to arthur and the camelot squad with this grim, unconvinced expression on his face, and then he averts his eyes from her.

everything hunith tells merlin in this scene is the exact opposite of what he needs to hear. he does not need someone to tell him how badly his services are “needed” by a man who hates the person merlin truly is, not when the only friend who ever accepted merlin’s true self has just been killed. he does not need to be told that arthur, who is alive solely because will is dead and who only seconds ago expressed exactly zero gratitude for that sacrifice, is the person to whom merlin owes his undying loyalty. he does not need to be shuffled off to camelot as quickly as possible, as if it would be better for him to just rush forward and forget what happened here, as if what happened here didn’t matter.

because what happened here did matter, whether hunith and arthur find it convenient to acknowledge or not. i have to lay this out again, because what happened to merlin in ealdor is so much more important than anybody ever seems to realize - and i do understand that, i really do (because yes, it was just one episode for us) - but we have to look at it from merlin’s perspective, not the audience’s.

will wasn’t ‘one episode’ for merlin.

i can’t say this enough times. i cannot say this loudly enough.

merlin, at the beginning of this show, has only ever had ONE FRIEND.

most of us can’t even imagine something like that.

but try. TRY.

merlin has only ever had one friend. he’s only ever had one friend to love him. he only had one friend for the first two decades of his life. he’s only been in camelot for a couple of months; he’s only known these camelot people for a couple of months, and they don’t know his real self anyhow. and now his ONLY FRIEND, the person he’s known all his life, the only friend he ever had who knew him for who he truly was, was just violently cut down before his very eyes, whilst saving a guy who can legally have merlin murdered for just existing. and even though merlin and will spend the entirety of 1.10 having a painful, complicated argument, will still uses his last moments on earth to tell the biggest fucking whopper of his life, in order to shield merlin from harm, taking all of the danger and infamy and condemnation upon himself. he dies with a lie on his lips. he dies with merlin’s hand in his hair.

and all the while, merlin knows that this would not have happened if he had just been willing to use his magic in the first place, instead of letting his fear of discovery prompt him into allowing his neighbors to offer themselves up for the slaughter in his place.

the avalanching double-whammy of grief and guilt that merlin is suddenly slammed with at the end of this episode is almost incomprehensible in scale.

i’ve talked about this before, but again, i think it’s something we don’t generally remember: losing will is the first time merlin has ever experienced personal bereavement. and he doesn’t get to start out with a warm-up; he goes straight to the big leagues. this is not some trifling thing. this is a total implosion of merlin’s world as he knows it.

when we think about the mark this episode leaves on merlin’s life, i don’t think most of us consider the magnitude of this event deeply enough. losing will in this way is not some one-off thing that merlin just...gets over. this is the most earth-shattering thing that has ever happened to him, at this point in time. it is still one of the worst things that has ever happened to him, period, even years later. the guilt never goes away.

and the thing that’s unique about this particular trauma is that merlin has to manage it alone. there are other tragedies in his life where we witness him receiving support/comfort from others - freya, lancelot, balinor (though of course there are aspects to these miseries that merlin has to keep secret from other people, as well) - but with will, merlin has to do everything on his own. he can’t get one single moment of peace at will’s funeral. his own mother, the only person who knows what really happened, can’t help him without making everything about arthur. and merlin can’t tell anyone else what happened, not the truth of it, because doing so would squander the gift he’s been given - will’s lie is still protecting him, years later, from arthur and morgana both.

merlin, at the end of 1.10, is forced to navigate this grief completely alone, in the silent secrecy of his own heart. arthur is actively making it worse. hunith is out here singing arthur’s praises. and will is just like - he’s suddenly not part of the conversation anymore. he doesn’t even register on anyone’s radar.

it truly is...incredible, for me, to watch hunith overhear arthur being legitimately terrible to both merlin and the guy who just died saving merlin AND arthur’s lives, and then to see her come over and start talking about how merlin belongs at arthur’s side, how much merlin needs to be there for him, how they’re two sides of the same coin. meanwhile, the guy who literally just lied his life away to protect merlin’s secret and who NEVER made merlin feel like he had to hide who he was and who never had any problem with magic in the first place and never made merlin feel unsafe and never treated merlin like he was less of a human being just for existing -

- he’s just burning to ash there, and hunith doesn’t even acknowledge that, despite the fact that merlin is so visibly, intently, single-mindedly focused on that funeral pyre, and so clearly in distress and in pain and NEEDING somebody. all she can talk about is merlin’s responsibility to arthur.

the dissonance here is baffling. hunith has known will forever. she met arthur less than a week ago. she barely knows him, and what she does know is that he thinks magic-users are dangerous/evil. she saw him being a dick to her kid. she knows her son is having the worst day of his life. and she still doesn’t offer a single comforting word in reference to the person who just died protecting merlin’s secret, instead choosing to wax poetic about a man whose bigotry is what merlin needed protecting from in the first place.

that...is a hot mess. the merlin-hunith-will dynamic is one of the few things in this show that reflects less-than-stellarly on hunith’s character, however much i love her. and even though it all stems from an overwhelming desire to keep her son safe, it doesn’t make her choices any less damaging. she sends merlin away specifically because she finds out that will knows about his secret. she spends 1.10 analyzing and encouraging and dissecting merlin’s relationship with arthur, when merlin’s relationship with will is the one that desperately needs attention. she’s proven wrong about will’s trustworthiness in the most stunning, powerful way possible, and then she never even acknowledges him, instead choosing to laud the dude who literally forces merlin to live in fear of execution.

she’s merlin’s mother. she’s the only person in his life who knows anything about what will actually meant to him. she is his only possible resource as he tries to weather a kind of devastation that defies description.

and she, like arthur, just barrels right on ahead and makes everything about someone else.

the cinematography choices in this scene matter. whenever arthur or hunith tries to talk to merlin, the camera is placed on the opposite side of the fire from them, meaning the flames are always in the foreground of the frame. they are something we are required to see and look past before we can get to anything else in the scene. and in terms of directorial/acting decisions - merlin doesn’t take his eyes off the pyre until the end of his conversation with hunith. not once while talking to arthur does he look away from it.

the funeral pyre is always in the foreground of the shot, because it’s in the forefront of merlin’s mind. that is where his focus is right now. that is what is taking up all of his attention. that is what is edging into the frame, eating up our entire field of view. that is what he needs help with.

but he doesn’t get any such support. the entire sequence ends up revolving around arthur. will’s entire funeral is about arthur fucking pendragon. arthur inserts himself so he can talk to merlin about how evil magic is, and then hunith inserts herself so she can talk to merlin about how great arthur is. nobody ever stops to think that maybe merlin doesn’t want to talk to anybody right this second. merlin’s entire ‘farewell’ to the only true friend he ever had in his life is completely swallowed up by the prince of camelot, and if that isn’t a metaphor for the rest of merlin’s life, then i don’t know what is.

i know nobody needs to hear this, because very few people are invested in this kid at the same level of embarrassing detail as me, but here it is, anyway.

yes, will is prickly. he’s hard to get on with. he’s angry. he’s bitter and snappy and uncharitable, sometimes.

but you know what? he has every reason to be like that.

this kid has nobody. his own best friend’s mother - who has known him all his life - doesn’t trust him and doesn’t respect him. she is too afraid for her own son’s safety to give will any credit. she sends merlin away to camelot, the most violently anti-magic place in the world, because apparently, will knowing about merlin’s secret would be even more dangerous than uther pendragon’s genocidal reign.

think about how that would feel. to hear something like that about yourself. to be somebody who is already so goddamn alone in the world, and to have your only friend vanish without so much as a ‘see you later,’ and then to be made to feel, however indirectly, like this is somehow your fault, like you’re the liability, like you’re the untrustworthy element here. as if you, somehow, are more dangerous than a king who literally pays to have sorcerers trafficked to him in cages.

will has every right to be upset, all the time. he has every reason to be angry, and bitter, and hurt, all the time. to be thought so poorly of - to be held in such low esteem - when he hasn’t done anything wrong, when he hasn’t ever done anything to earn that kind of mistrust - and to have that same misplaced suspicion used to justify separating him from the only person in the world who gives a damn about him - if it were me, i would be constantly on the verge of screaming, all the time.

will has always been on merlin’s side, and he has never done anything to endanger him, and in the end he gives up everything to make sure merlin can stay safe and hidden and unhunted. he shouldn’t have needed to prove his goodness, his constancy, his worth; not when he’s already kept merlin’s secret for who knows how many years, but even after he does do so, it doesn’t even matter. arthur acknowledges him only to disparage sorcery. hunith passes him over completely in favor of praising arthur, with no acknowledgment of the misjudgment she made.

i have said before that merlin tends to befriend people who have nobody, people who’ve been left behind by the rest of the world, people who’ve been made to feel that they aren’t worthy of love. and will, merlin’s oldest friend, was the first of those many characters, and it is so heartbreaking to me that in this instance, the same kind of disinterested and careless attitude towards his worth that dogged him all his life is perpetuated and affirmed after his death. ‘people are used to ignoring him,’ merlin tells arthur, and merlin is right - even when will is dead and burning, arthur only sees sorcery. hunith, who we would expect to be more sympathetic, only sees arthur.

merlin is the only one who knows better. merlin has always known better, and he loves will so much, but he is the only one, apparently, and honestly, after will dies? nobody else even tries to understand.

to sum up:

hunith and arthur, for all that i love them, are both way out of line at the end of this episode.

the legacy of this experience, for merlin, is that he spends the rest of his life processing this particular trauma alone. and that is why i always, always have to keep will and ealdor in the back of my mind when i write for merlin in any capacity - because this event isn’t some simple stumbling block for him; it changes him forever. it teaches him what he can and can’t expect from the people around him, and it solidifies how irrelevant his own needs are when viewed in comparison with arthur’s, even to people who barely even KNOW arthur; people who are supposed to put merlin first over everything. it teaches merlin to bury his sorrow, and to wrestle with personal suffering in secret, because if things aren’t ultimately about arthur, then they aren’t important enough to be granted any significant amount of time for merlin to deal with. merlin’s own grief, even at his best friend’s funeral, takes too long to resolve. arthur walks away from the pyre, and it’s time for merlin to leave, too. you’d better be going.

bottom line: i don’t care if other people think this whole ‘ooo, everybody wants merlin to be with arthur’ thing is wonderful or beautiful or dreamily romantic. it isn’t. it’s ugly, and it’s cruel, and it stripped merlin of his present identity and his future potential, one stolen moment at a time.

#and that's what i have to say about that #so.#in case you all weren't already aware #will is a goddamn hero #and merlin misses him every day #the once and future slowburn #meta #no kings no masters

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baby-blossoms · 4 years

Text

Butterfly

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic, but he’s kind of an ass in this one.)

Summary/Request: Hi lovely, can you write a DeanxReader where reader is a lot younger than Dean, but they are in love and Sam sees that she has a bunch of hickeys from Dean and he makes fun of her for it and for how much younger she is and he goes a little too far and the Reader gets upset and then Dean walks in and he gets mad at Sam and it ends V FLUFFY (Sorry if anything is too specific I just saw from another post that you were okay with more specific requests)

Word Count: 1969

Warnings: Blasphemy (using the lord's name in vain), cussing, Sam is a bit of an ass in this one, mentions of anxiety about unrequited love, VERY fluffy with Dean

You yawned and stretched, having just woken up from a very deep sleep. Turning to your side, Dean was next to you, still wrapped up in an apparently nice dream. He had a small content smile dancing across his lips, and you couldn’t help but fall in love with him all over again. Every little moment with him reminded you why you fell for him so hard and so fast. The man was not only a legend among hunters but also very well known for surfing from girl to girl. You would’ve never imagined that you would be the person that made Dean Winchester stop in his tracks. You hadn’t even actively pursued him. Dean claimed that he knew from the moment he saw you that he was gonna fall in love with you.

“You turned me into a damn teddy bear.”

He would always complain to you.

You would just smile and give him a soft hum in affirmation. He was still a little rough around the edges so to say. He didn’t hesitate to tear anyone to pieces if they threatened you or Sam, but you got to see a whole different side to Dean when you were alone. Along with Sam. Sam liked you, he really did, he just found it odd, along with a few others, that Dean had fallen in love with you as you were younger than Sam. There was altogether quite a few years separating you and Dean, but you weren’t anywhere near a child, so you personally didn’t see any problem in it. You and Dean were two consenting adults that loved each other, and you couldn’t comprehend why some people just couldn’t accept that.

You stared at Dean for a few more minutes, practically radiating love toward him, before you finally decided to force yourself out of bed. Yawning a few more times, you shuffled your way toward the bunker’s kitchen and hoped to god that Sam had already made coffee. Much to your enthusiasm, Sam had indeed made a pot of coffee, and you happily poured yourself and Dean a cup. You stood in the kitchen, just taking in the delectable smell of your coffee. It always smelled better than it tasted, but damn if that coffee didn’t taste like a little cup of heaven.

“Hey there, Pongo.”

You turned to find Sam leaning against the wall opposite to you, smirking like a middle schooler who just made a sex joke. You raised an eyebrow. Sam’s smile faded, apparently expecting you to react positively to his ‘clever’ joke.

“It’s the- you know… The dog in 101 Dalmatians. Haven’t you seen that movie, or is it too old for you?”

You couldn’t force back a heavy eye-roll at that point.

“Oh of course I haven’t seen that classic Disney movie, Sam. It’s not like kids nowadays are watching it, too. Pongo was a boy, by the way, Perdita is the girl, it would’ve been more fitting.”

Sam laughed, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Sorry I haven’t watched the movie recently, I forgot it was practically a few weeks ago you were watching cartoons and singing along to Disney movies.”

You bit back a scathing remark, getting more irritated with Sam by the minute. You wished you had covered the love bites Dean had left down your neck and across your collarbones.

“Jesus, Sam,” you murmured, “could you give it a rest for one day?”

Sam chuckled once more, then turned to continue whatever task he had stopped seemingly purely to poke fun at you.

You loved Sam a hell of a lot, but it got to you quickly when he constantly mocked you for being so young. Especially when he brought Dean into the picture. You could see how Dean dating someone younger than him could come across as a bit odd to Sam at first, but after so many months, you were ready for him to leave you alone in that regard. No longer quite as at peace as you were moments ago, you simply finished off your coffee and took Dean his own.

Entering the room the two of you shared, you sat next to Dean on the bed. He still slept deeply, murmuring your name a few times in his sleep, much to your delight. Finally, you decided to actually wake him up before his coffee got cold. Dean was no faster to get up than you were. He smiled tiredly at you when you finally managed to wake him, and delivered a soft kiss to your cheek. He gently took his coffee from you and didn’t bother to savor the flavor. He practically chugged it down. He set down the mug and stretched his more than likely sore muscles with a dramatic groan of effort. You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest, kissing every inch of your face he could manage to as you squirmed in his grip.

“Good morning, baby.”

He whispered. You almost melted. His morning voice was like pure ambrosia to you. You smiled and relaxed into his arms, snaking your own around him. He was warm, full of love, and all of it was yours. Dean Winchester loved you with everything in him, and God it felt good.

“I love you, Dean.”

He chuckled softly, catching your lips in another soft kiss before he slowly pulled away and looked at you fully.

“I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

No matter how many times he told you, your heart still fluttered wildly like a caged butterfly. You hummed in content, resting your cheek on his bare chest, and listening to his heartbeat. The slow steady rhythm of Dean’s heart lulled you back into a light sleep, leading you into sweet dreams of him.

---

You woke up disappointed to say the least. You were no longer laying on Dean, and he was nowhere to be seen. Wandering out into the halls of the bunker, you looked around for Dean for a little while before finding your way into the library. Sam sat in a red chair next to a small bookshelf, books piled around him. He was hunched over a thick ancient looking book, his brows creased in concentration.

“Hey, Sammy!”

You called happily. He took a moment to break his focus from the book, probably wanting to finish whatever page or paragraph he was on.

“What’s up?” he asked.

He definitely seemed to want to get back to reading, but being Sam, he was probably trying not to be rude. You stood there for a moment awkwardly, not particularly keen on mentioning Dean in fear of him immediately starting a tirade of jokes that you wouldn’t find amusing. You didn’t really have any other reason to be bothering him though. What came out was a sad excuse for small talk.

“How’s the book?”

Sam looked between you and the book in confusion for a minute, then replying slowly,

“I mean… It’s good. No Pulitzer or anything. Did you need it for something or…?”

You shook your head quickly,

“No, I was just…”

Sam cut you off, a light bulb virtually popping up over his head.

“You’re just looking for Dean, aren’t you?”

You laughed at your own awkwardness and nodded your head in affirmation. Your smile faded when Sam continued,

“Didn’t they teach you how to ask questions directly in middle school? I can’t believe you don’t remember- it being, what? Two years ago?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, really funny, Sam. Seriously, do you know where Dean is?”

Sam grinned at you widely, responding without hesitation,

“Have you checked the nearest high schools? Middle Schools? Hell, he might be robbing another cradle for all we know, Y/n.”

Your frustration was building quickly, and so were the tears in your eyes that you refused to let fall.

“What is your problem, Sam? Can’t you tell these jokes aren’t funny anymore? You’re being immature!”

You responded, your voice shaking lightly.

“You can’t lecture me about being immature, Y/n. I mean, you practically just hit puberty.”

He replied. You could feel your face getting red, and you were practically sweating from the anger boiling inside of you.

“That’s disgusting, Sam!”

Sam chuckled,

“Almost as disgusting as thinking of you two dating when Dean was 18. He’d have to kiss your mom to get the message to you!”

Before you had the chance to respond, Dean’s voice was roaring behind you.

“Why don’t you learn when to shut the hell up, Sam?”

You turned to Dean in surprise, wondering how much he had heard. He set down a takeout bag on one of the tables and gestured for you to come toward him.

“What’s disgusting is harassing Y/n with the same shit every day. The jokes were funny when we were younger, but now you’re just making yourself look like an ass.” Dean glared at Sam as you made your way toward him. “Here's your goddamn rabbit food.” He harshly took the bag off the table and launched it toward Sam, then gently took your hand and lead you back to your room.

Dean didn’t say a word until he slammed the door shut behind the two of you. You stared at anything but him, worried that this would damage your relationship. You were always scared Sam’s jokes would get to Dean too, and he’d finally start seeing things the way Sam did.

“Baby, look at me.”

You forced yourself to look Dean in the eyes. Terrified of the thought that he might not love you as much as you did him. The thought that he might not love you enough to put up with moments like these was almost drowning you in doubt and anxiety.

“Sam’s just being a dick because he hasn’t been laid in months. There’s nothing wrong with how old we are. We’re both adults and Sam’s opinion doesn’t mean shit. He’s probably got his panties in a twist that he’s not the one who gets to wake up to your smile every morning.”

You smiled tenderly at Dean, your heart easing up at his words. Dean set down the takeout bag and advanced toward you. He tilted your head up, kissing you passionately. You felt yourself relax fully into him, and smile against his lips. When he finally broke away, he smiled excitedly at you and picked up the takeout bag once more.

“I got us burgers and y/f pie!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the excitement in his voice. He was always so happy at the aspect of making you happy. How could you ever doubt his love? You both made your way to the bed, and Dean handed you a slightly greasy styrofoam box that contained one of the best bacon cheeseburgers you’d ever tasted. You both ate happily in silence.

Halfway through your y/f pie, you felt Dean’s stare. You looked over to him to find him smiling warmly at you. He hadn’t even started eating his pie.

“What’s wrong?”

You asked after swallowing down a mouthful of your pie. Dean laughed and shook his head, replying,

“I was just wondering how you look so god damn beautiful no matter what you’re doing.”

Dean really had a talent for making your heart melt. You smiled at him, putting the last of your pie off to the side.

“You really are turning into a teddy bear.”

You replied. Dean laughed once more, reaching out and pulling you into his arms. You laughed with him, and kissed him.

“I love you, Dean.”

You whispered. Closing your eyes, you rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I love you more than anything, Y/n.”

Your heart fluttered like a caged butterfly.

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allthingsfangirl101 · 4 years

Text

Too Much–Mitch Rapp

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4*

Warnings: language

Being a female trainer who only trains men, I'm often underestimated. And by often, I mean by every new trainee that Hurley brings in.

All the men see is a skinny girl in a sports bra and tight leggings. Okay, maybe I dress a certain way to mess with their heads. I figured that if they could fight me in a bra and spanks, they can fight anyone in any situation.

They usually don't notice it after about a month of me putting them on their asses. Hard. Then they start to focus more on how to not look like a wimp while fighting me than on how to get in my pants.

Every guy has done that. Except Mitch Rapp. He looked at me once on his first day and didn't seem fazed. I just shrugged, not really caring. Curious, but not enough to pry.

When Hurley gave me his file, I immediately understood why Rapp wasn't acting like the other guys. He lost his fiancé in a terrorist attack. I shook off any feelings of sympathy as I closed his file and walked away.

My first interaction with him was that night, hours after I read his file. I walked past the gym but stopped when I saw the lights were on. I checked the clock on the wall and sighed when I realized the gym had closed an hour ago.

I walked in and was about to yell at whoever was in the gym but stopped when I saw Mitch Rapp in the corner. His shoulders were tense and his hips didn't move as he hit the punching bag.

"If you don't loosen up, you're going to hurt yourself."

He tensed up even more and glared at me from over his shoulder as I walked towards him. "Look, lady, I don't know who the hell you are or what makes you think you can give me corrections, but fuck off."

"I think I'm your trainer," I smirked at him. My smirk grew as his glare darkened.

"More like a bitch," he shot back.

"Good one," I scoffed. I rolled my eyes as he turned back to the punching bag and went right back to punching it with too much tightness in his shoulders.

"Seriously," I sighed as I walked over to him. "If you don't loosen up your shoulders, start to move your hips and reposition your fists, you are going to destroy any muscles, bones, and cartilage you have left."

He quickly turned around, instantly clenching his fists as he walked towards me until he was standing in front of me. "I don't care who the hell you are, princess. But what I do know is that I've trained with guys who would eat you for breakfast. So, clearly, I don't need your advice. Instead, why don't you turn around, scurry your cute little ass out of here and go get your nails done or some other girly shit?"

When he pointed at the door as he finished his misogynistic tirade, I grabbed his arm, twisting his wrist. Before he could counteract, I pulled him into me so I was under his arm and used my hip to toss him over my shoulder. I sat back up with an angry smirk as he landed on the mat, hard.

"Egotistical piece of shit," I spat at him. I stepped over him, leaving the gym, as he tried to catch his breath.

* * * * *

Ever since that lovely encounter, Rapp has kept his distance from me and been training with Hurley instead. I was currently sitting at the kitchen bar, creating a file on a potential target when someone walked in.

"Hi, Y/N," Hurley said in the voice that was always followed by him asking for a favor.

"What do you want, Hurley?" I asked, not looking up from my file.

I heard him sigh as he sat on the stool next to me. "I need you to train the new kid, Rapp."

I let out a short laugh making him look at me with a disappointed sigh. I finally looked up from my file to see he was serious.

"No," I said simply. I turned back to my file but Hurley instantly took it out of my hands, closed it and put it to the side. "Before you lecture me about how this is my job, I already told you no."

"I know we already talked about this, but come on Y/N," he sighed. "I need you to help me out."

"Why the hell would I train him? He doesn't take me seriously. He thinks he's above me. Hell, he thinks he's above everyone here," I said, restating what we talked about the morning after my first encounter with Rapp. "The new guy doesn't even like me, Hurley. And he doesn't listen to corrections. How do I know that? Because when I tried to give him a good and reasonable correction, he told me to. . . What did he say again? Oh yeah. Fuck off."

"That's why I need you to train him," he annunciated.

"Why?" I sighed.

"Because," Hurley sighed. "You're always my go-to when our trainees are. . ."

"Egotistical hotheads?" I cut him off. He just nodded, sending me a knowing smirk.

"Please?"

"Wow," I laughed. "You must be desperate if you're begging."

"I'm not begging," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. It was my turn to send him a knowing smirk to which he responded with clearing his throat.

"As much as I love to push a guy well past his breaking point, Rapp isn't willing to change. Or take any advice from me. He could be on the floor dying and would rather bleed out than let me save him."

"That's not true," Hurley rolled his eyes.

"Still," I shrugged. "I'm not doing it."

"Y/N," he sighed. "You're my best fighter. Plus, we need to teach him how to control his anger and you are the way to do it."

"And if it doesn't work and he is a complete lunatic?" I sighed, slightly softening my Resting Bitch Face. "What if he goes too far? Which he will."

"Relax," he chuckled. "I'll be there the whole time. I'll stop it before it goes south."

"Gee thanks. How reassuring," I scoffed as I grabbed my file from in front of Hurley and slid off the stool.

"I would owe you," he said, making me stop. I turned around, folding my arms across my chest.

"A week off?"

"Sure," he nodded.

"With a vacation that you pay for?" I pushed.

"Okay," he shrugged.

I scrunched my nose and pursed my lips as I hesitated. "Fine," I sighed. "But if he pisses me off, which I am 100% positive he will, I'm going to kick his ass. Then yours."

* * * * *

I waited in the gym, getting annoyed with every minute that passed. I looked at the clock and realized he was forty-five minutes late. With a frustrated grunt, I turned around and started to leave the gym.

"Where the hell are you going?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I looked up, bringing back my Resting Bitch Face as I instantly crossed my arms over my chest.

"You're late."

"Who cares?" He scoffed as he walked towards me. When he stopped in front of me, my fist instantly connected with his face. He took a few steps back, holding his bleeding nose.

"What the hell is your problem?" He yelled.

"My problem is you," I said simply. "I thought that was pretty obvious."

I looked over my shoulder when I heard someone clear their throat. I sighed when I saw Hurley watching me with a disappointed look on his face. I rolled my eyes as I turned my attention back to Rapp who was wiping the blood from his nose.

Rapp stood up slightly straighter as he rolled his shoulders and scoffed, "Are we training or not?"

"Attack me."

I forced myself to hold back my smirk as Rapp looked at me like I had three heads. "You're serious?" He asked with a slight laugh as he glanced over my shoulder at Hurley.

"Attack me," I repeated slower.

He rolled his shoulders again before charging me. I stepped aside at the last minute, grabbing his arm as he got closer. I instinctively stepped in front of him, my hold still on his arm as I turned and used my shoulder and hip to toss him over my body. I smirked down at him when he landed on his back a few feet in front of me.

"You're going to have to try harder if you want to take me down, kid."

He grunted as he stood up and returned to his too-tight stance. After trying and failing a few more times to take me down, he was able to wrap his arms around me. I sighed, letting him have his moment as he pulled me into his chest.

"I can practically feel you smirking." I rolled my eyes as I positioned my feet, one next to and one directly behind his.

"Yeah, well. You know what they say. . ."

Before he could tell me what they say, I elbowed him in the stomach and easily tossed him over my shoulder.

"What do they say?" I taunted as I looked down at him.

"That you're a bitch," he said as he caught his breath.

"That's not new information," I sighed as I took a few steps back and got ready to go again.

* * * * *

We had been sparing for almost an hour and he had still failed to take me down. Rapp looked around at the gathering crowd, his anger building.

"Ignore them," I said gesturing around us. "They just want to watch you try and. . ."

Before I could finish, Mitch sprinted towards me, picked me up and roughly threw me onto the mat. I gasped for air, a loud crack echoing through the gym. The room spun as I felt a sharp pain in my ribs and the back of my head.

"What the hell?!" I heard someone yell. I could faintly hear footsteps running towards me. I turned my head, the pain increasing, and watched as some guys grabbed Rapp and led him to the edge of the mat.

"Y/N? Can you hear me?" My vision was blurry, but I could just barely make out Hurley leaning over me. "Y/N?"

"I can't. . . I can't breathe," I gasped out.

"Okay," Hurley said gently and quickly. "It's okay. You're going to be fine. It'll go away, but until it does I need you to take a few slow deep breaths."

I felt him grab my hands and put them above my head, instantly making it easier for me to breathe.

"Rapp," Hurley said, his eyes darkening as he looked up. "What the hell is wrong with you? You were supposed to train with her, not kill her."

"All I did was. . ." I heard Rapp stutter.

"All you did was body slam a girl half your size," Hurley cut him off.

"Look, I didn't mean. . . I was just. . ." I semi-consciously noticed Rapp suddenly not sounding as threatening as he has been.

"Shut up," Hurley spat out as he turned his attention back to me. "Y/N? What hurts?"

"My ribs," I whispered as my head spun. He nodded, encouraging me to continue. "And. . . And the room won't stop spinning. There is this loud ringing in my ear and. . . My hair is wet."

Hurley furrowed his eyebrows at my last statement. I felt him reach down, touch the back of my head and pull his hand back. "Shit," he mumbled as he saw the fresh blood on his fingers. He looked around and pointed at something across the room. "Grab that. We need to get her to the infirmary. Now."

I went in and out of consciousness as I felt several pairs of hands gently lift me and place me back down. I could barely make out the shape of four guys as they carried me out of the gym.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hurley spat at someone.

"Coming with you?" Rapp said like he was unsure.

"I think you've done enough."

#Mitch Rapp #mitch rapp imagine #mitch rapp x reader #American Assassin #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine

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quietlyimplode · 4 years

Text

Whumptober2020 - Day 15 - Into the Unknown.

Day 1 - Waking Up Restrained // Day 2 - Kidnapped // Day 3 - Manhandled // Day 4 - Caged// Day 5 - Rescue // Day 6 - No More // Day 7 - Support // Day 8 - Isolation // Day 9 - Take Me Instead // Day 10 - Blood Loss/Trail of Blood // Day 11 - Psych 101 // Day 12 - Broken Down // Day 13 - Oxygen Mask // Day 14 - Alternative Prompt - Comfort // Day 15 - Into The Unknown

Natasha’s POV on therapy, and her first therapy session.

Therapy not a foreign concept, having received it before in the early stages of her journey into Shield but the unknowns of voluntarily going, is making her wary. It’s weaknesses that she can’t abide by.

If her handlers saw her now, she’s be six feet under or in prisoned for re-education; mind wiped, start again. Sometimes it’s a consideration and feels almost preferable to working through what she has to.

——-

Clint convinces her to go. After finding her passed out in a bolt hole in Alphabet city, bleeding all over her sheets and having visions of her team mates telling her, her worst fears, her worst imaginations, he’s not wrong in saying that something has to give. Cognitively, she knows this.

The whole day she’s on edge. Avoiding Clint. Screw him. This is his fault.

She can work through her own damn triggers.

Clint’s found his old therapist, Tony’s hired her.

She’s coming to the tower at 4.

Natasha spends the whole morning in the gym, ribs be damned, bruising and cuts make the session more painful but almost cathartic to work on. She can only hide in here so long.

She goes to her room and tries to read.

Heads to the kitchen. Sees Steve talking with Clint. Leaves.

Heads back to the gym. Maybe a run will help.

Clint and Steve find her in the Gym, panting her way through her third mile. Clint has the concerned look on his face, one of ‘what happened’ and ‘how can I help?’. She gets off the treadmill, pushes past both of them and leaves. Goes back to her room and showers.

Restlessly, she tries to read again. Stuffs around on her phone, looks at the time. Tony did say four right?

She heads down to check with him, the only one she can stand being around, the only one who’s not hovering, walking on eggshells and being a general pain in the ass.

She opts for a different tact when she gets there.

“How does this work?”

Tony looks up, surprised.

“What do you mean?” Natasha takes a deep breath. She hates this so much.

“I mean how does this work? I need…” she takes a pause and thinks what she’s actually asking; “a therapist and you just happen to get one that Clint knows and trusts, that will come to the tower? What did you do?”

Tony side eyes her, “I made some calls, paid some salaries. It’ll be fine.” He smiles, Natasha stops listening, waits til he finishes talking, rolls her eyes and stalks out. Stays just outside the room remembers why she went to Tony in the first place, walks back in again and waits til he turns around.

“God you’re like a ninja.”

“You just don’t pay attention.” She snaps.

“My hyper vigilance works differently to yours.” He retorts.

She pauses.

“When does she get here?”

“I don’t know, Nat, soon? I said 4, so I assume she’ll be here at 4.” She glances at the clock 3.50. Feels her breathing quicken, chest heavy. Nerves are now at an all time high. Leaving quickly she heads for the only space with air, the roof.

Clint’s already up there, she turns to leave but he spots her, “Nat, wait.” He calls.

She’s having difficulty getting her breath under control, feels more of a heaving, she needs to sit, buckles first.

Clint's running over and she holds up a hand. A warning, don’t talk; don’t touch.

She gets back to her feet. Looks at him in the eyes, the fucking eyes of worry. Makes a decision then and there.

“I’m not going.” She says.

“Tasha..”

“No. You don’t get to decide this for me. I went with it, saw some merit in it; but you know as well as I do; this is not how we work on things. This is not how we work through things. Send me on another mission, get back on the horse, who cares? So I have another trigger - who on this team doesn’t? Bruce is triggered by being fucking angry, and he doesn’t have to go? Why should I?”

He lets her finish her tirade.

“You promised.” He says in Russian for emphasis.

“I’m not going.” She replies in kind.

Staring at each other they’re interrupted by Tony swaggering towards them.

“Nat?” He calls out.

“She’s here.” Clint says.

Natasha is pissed. Traitor.

“I’m not going.” She informs Tony.

“Nat,” Clint tries.

Tony doesn’t even pause before heading into a lecture, it makes Natasha think that he’s been thinking about it all day.

“Natasha, the Doctor is waiting, you agreed. Give it ten minutes - five even, if you don’t like what she’s got to say you can leave.”

Clint's nodding.

Natasha scowls. Pissed that this all feels so targeted.

“Come on. If you don’t go, you have to hang out with me and Clint. And you know the whole time, we’re all going to be thinking that you should have just ripped the bandaid off and gone. Plus, if not today; then I’ll ask her to come back tomorrow; or the next day; or the one after. You get me? We aren’t letting this go. You need someone, that’s not; well, us.”

Well fuck.

She doesn’t want to be around them. She doesn’t want to be around anybody now. She feels like she’s them down already and feels betrayed. They’re supposed to have her back.

And then.

What if it doesn’t work, and she’s beyond saving? What if she lets them down?

She watches as Clint walks towards the door, holds it open.

“Come on.” He says, “put on an alarm and suck it up.”

She shoots Clint a look that she hopes conveys, fuck you and the high horse you rolled in on, and rolls her eyes. Follows Clint through the door. Tony is behind them. She counts her steps trying to alleviate panic.

They all but frog-march her to the office. Stand next to her.

All the feelings in the world are telling her to run. Leave. Never come back. Screw them; she doesn’t need them.

But.

She promised.

Taking the step inside she’s met with the kindly looking therapist that Clint told her about.

“Hello,” the woman says.

“Hello,” says Natasha.

The woman introduces herself, explains a bit on how she works. Natasha meets her with silence.

She is standing in front of the door, shakes her head when the therapist offers her a seat.

“So, do you have any questions?”

Can I leave? She thinks.

“What happens now.. Today?” She clarifies.

“Usually I’d ask why you’re here but your bandages and bruises tell me stories I feel you’re not ready to tell yet. So maybe we’ll start with strategies.” She pauses. Thinks.

“What do you know of grounding?”

“Some.” They’ve used it before, techniques that help pull you from flashbacks. Works but often hit and miss.

“Grounding helps us when we are experiencing big emotions, when reality doesn’t feel real or you just can’t get that breath under control. It helps us refocus on what’s happening in the present moment. You can use grounding techniques to help create space from distressing feelings in nearly any situation.” She pauses. “We’re going to be more targeted in our use of these. I get the feeling that you’re a woman of few words. How do you feel about just answering me with single words?”

Natasha feels positive about it.

Nods.

The therapist continues. “Ok, great. If you were to use a technique would it be mental, physical or soothing? Before you answer, a mental technique might be doubling numbers or thinking in categories, a physical technique might be putting your hands in water or a smell or touching something nearby; lastly the soothing techniques are those like teaching yourself to use words of affirmation or listing your favourite things or planning an activity.”

Natasha thinks.

Definitely not the last one. Likes the idea of mental games but physical is the one she lands on. Tactile prompt is what she’s always used, it’s harder to fake and doesn’t rely on her brain to function, easier for those around her to help her tune into. Doesn’t say this out loud. Replies.

“Physical.”

The therapist smiles. “Ok, great. So I’m going to suggest some ideas; maybe tell me one that you think might work for you, or that you’d feel comfortable letting someone know what to do when a flashback comes or your body or brain doesn’t feel like your own. Is this making sense?”

Natasha nods again.

“Ok, so hands in water noticing the change in temperature and the flow, or touching or picking up something around you, using your breath - breathing deeply, holding a piece of ice, a scent - like perfume or something that’s familiar, maybe moving your body, or listening to what’s going on around you, feeling your body, and then there’s the 5/4/3/2/1 method of 5 things you see, 4 things you touch and so on.”

She pauses. Waits. Expects a response.

Natasha looks at her feet, realises she’s still standing. Wants to sit. Pulls the chair out so the back is against the wall and curls inside.

“Hearing and touch.” She says. “harder to fake.” She elaborates.

The therapist nods.

“Ok, good. Good to know. Hearing is easy but sometimes needs another to tune us into it. Is there someone that can help you with that? That you’d feel comfortable with disclosing this?”

Natasha nods. Thinks of Clint. Knows instinctively that all she’s learnt from him, he’s learnt from this woman.

“Ok, if they’re not around then I want you try and acknowledge when you’re on the cusp of panic - put on music you know, like, know the words or tune to. Can you think of anything that would fit this?”

Natasha nods again.

“Ok; touch. Do you have any issue with people touching you, when you’re in panicked states?” Feels personal. But not wrong. Natasha looks up, sharply. Makes eye contact.

“Then this is going to be a bit different, prompt your body to tune into whatever it’s touching, sitting on, holding; take note of the temperature , the colour - anything you can think of. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” Natasha says.

“Ok. So here, if you’re ever feeling or looking unsafe here I’m going to prompt you. Like practice, right? I might say something like the air conditioning is on or that I am talking to you. What I will also tell you is that sometimes you need to let the thoughts come.”

Pauses. Continues.

“Have you ever stopped trying to think about something and the more you try to stop it, the more the thought becomes repetitive til you can’t stop thinking about it? I’m going to remind you to let the thoughts come; but let them go too. Let it flow through you. Lastly I might tell you you’re safe. But as safety is a concept of the mind I might not always tell you that. What I’ll say now is that your words, your thoughts are safe here in the room, with me. So if you ever feel like talking through something that’s happened or going to happen or anything from the past, this is somewhere where you can do that. I’ll let you know that Mr. Stark has placed me on retainer so you call I come, easy right?”

Natasha rolls her eyes and the therapist gives her an easy smile.

“So, here’s where I tell you let’s give this a try. If it works it works, if it doesn’t that’s ok too, we just try something different. Just remember when you’re working through it, and things are ok keep working. If you feel yourself struggle - take a break. If you’re having a tough time; frustrated or overwhelmed with yourself, remove yourself from the situation. Our goal is to protect yourself and stay safe,” she smiles.

Natasha gets up.

“Natasha, would you like us to touch base daily or every second day?

Ahh the illusion of choice. The therapist is lucky that she seems competent, Natasha knows why Clint had referred her, the intelligence in her words and being able to read her is skilful.

“Second day,” she responds. What the hell, Tony’s right, what has she got to lose?

She side steps to the door, but the therapist isn’t finished yet,

“Last thing, do you have any questions?” Huh.

She doesn’t think so.. Hand on the doorknob she shakes her head.

“Ok, thanks for coming today. It’s lovely to meet you.” Natasha turns to acknowledge the woman. Gives a small smile

——-

#whumptober2020 #day 15 #into the unknown #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #tony stark #hawkeye #marvel fic #natasha goes to therapy #long fic #yay halfway

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manggojooz · 4 years

Text

Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 5)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: ~3,200

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: none

previous part: Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

Taglist: @a-hopelessly-imaginative-girl @dollwithluv @sweetcheeksdna

A folder flies past your shoulder. Sejoon flinches beside you. Other than closing your eyes for a brief moment, there was no other reaction from you.

With hands behind your back, you continue to stand as still as a statue while Director Lee went on with her tirade.

“Have you no idea of the gravity of the situation? Can you not tell that in a single moment everything can be lost?”, she shouts as she slams her palms onto the table. She suddenly pipes down but still glared a hole through your face, “Say something”, she commanded.

“I was not aware that it was not approved by the company. I should have checked with Sejoon. This is my fault”, you explained although you felt that it was unjust. Why is Jungkook not in this room being yelled at right now? You wouldn’t have known to second guess him, right? But you knew it was futile to reason or fight. This is not a fight you could win anyway.

“You are lucky it hasn’t blown up but this is the last chance I am giving to you”, Director Lee raises one eyebrow and does not mince any of her words.

Once out of the room, you stormed off. You heard Sejoon calling you but the anger that took over you just wanted to take you somewhere alone.

---

“.. so she kinda... sorta... got blasted by Director Lee...”, Sejoon was rambling on about the incident and nagging at Jungkook to please inform him before Jungkook goes around doing something like this again.

Jungkook momentarily felt bad that you had to take the fall for his little escapade. But his mind quickly turns to another thought – he has not yet heard a word from Director Lee and he wonders why.

“Hyung, is there any Disney movie showing now?”, he asks nonchalantly as he stares out of the moving vehicle heading towards their salon. Yoongi who was sitting across from Jungkook had been discreetly paying attention to the conversation while staring at something on his phone.

“Hmmm don’t think so... why?”, Sejoon replies equally nonchalantly, used to answering his random question.

“Or any movies suitable for someone who likes fairytales?”, Jungkook presses on but with the bulk of his attention focusing on the contents on his phone.

“I will check, but why?”, Sejoon suddenly turns his head towards the back seat where Jungkook was, and questioned suspiciously.

“Can you get two tickets for tonight?”, Jungkook replied.

“Again?! Are you planning to meet Yeonjoo again... didn’t I just tell you what-”, Sejoon raised his volume, quickly turning back to facing the road.

“It’s not like that, Hyunggg!”, Jungkook exclaimed and Yoongi glanced at him briefly.

---

Yuri comes running up to you from behind the bench. You were sitting rather still on the bench, still fuming over the discriminatory treatment you received earlier.

“Hey Y/N!”, Yuri shouted, “they are leaving soon! Let's go.”

You sulked even further. Had you known he was of this character you would have never picked him as your bias, the anger was just synergising within you.

“Ya Y/N!”, Yuri lands a strong slap on your shoulder and yet you did not even so much as flinch. Yuri grew a little concerned. “What’s going on? Did Director Lee say something again?”, it was like second nature to notice the tiny emotional changes in each other between Yuri and you. “It’s only the beginning and this fake dating ploy does not look like it is going to end well”, Yuri sighed.

You stood up without a word and Yuri just trudges along with you silently towards the carpark.

“Where were you guys, let’s go, we are running late”, Sejoon nagged when he saw the two of you sauntering over although he did that while avoiding looking at you.

You weren’t too attentive to the surroundings, something which you really ought not to do as one of the bodyguards. Just as you were about to board the first black van in sight, someone blocks the door.

You looked up to see Jungkook was the one blocking your way.

“What now?”, you spat, rather hostile.

He senses your mood but carelessly said, “What’s with the tone?”

“What’s wrong with my tone?”, you weren’t letting up either, “I thought you guys are running late? Move.”

“About last night...”, he suddenly jumped into the topic, “it’s not really something I really need to apologise for... I mean I just...”

Rolling your eyes would not have been enough of a reaction to his assertion.

“As if you know how to apologise”, you replied sarcastically, “you don’t have to bother.”

Jungkook was getting annoyed as well and he scoffs, “For someone who ought to be thankful that I am even playing along in this stupid plot you sure have some attitude.”

You could hardly believe your ears. What exactly does he think you ought to be thankful for?

The laughter that came out from you was dry, “Thankful? Yeah, I sure am very thankful to you for everything. So why bother stopping me to explain anything? Move along will you?”, you were almost raising your voice but used all your might to hold it in.

“Ya-”, Jungkook was riled up now too, his voice was hard as steel but not loud.

There was one thing to be thankful for though – Yoongi appearing in the next moment and cutting off the conversation promptly.

“What’s going on? Get in the car, both of you... we need to go”, with that Yoongi gently tried to shove you into the black van, your eyes still glaring at Jungkook while he countered with his own dagger stares.

You somewhat rudely shrugged off Yoongi’s hold and headed towards the second car instead. This time Jungkook properly yells at you, “Ya!”, but Yoongi manages to push his dongsaeng inside the vehicle.

---

The boys were scheduled for an endorsement photo shoot that afternoon for a well-known jewellery maker. The boutique had set up a temporary photo shoot set in one of its exhibition rooms and made it resemble a rustic old atelier.

"There’s no waiting room here... either you guys can wait in the car or just go to the café next door”, Sejoon instructed while furiously typing on his phone.

Neither Yuri nor you moved a single step. Sejoon glances at you before whispering in a hushed tone, “Actually... Director Lee will be coming over too in a while so...”

You glared at Sejoon a little, thinking “so what if she was coming over?”, still miffed at the treatment you received this morning.

Yuri tugged at your elbow lightly, “I could really use a latte now”, she said.

---

The room was sombre when Jungkook entered. He wondered if this had anything to do with last night. He instinctively started to put together a defence in his mind, deciding if he should start by clarifying that he is just friends with Yeonjoo or launch into a semi-lecture about how idols should be allowed to hang out with each other too.

Only when Jungkook was sitting down did he notice the other man in the room, he was donning a sharp black suit, a handkerchief neatly folded popping out from his chest pocket. He stood up rather belatedly and Jungkook had to stop himself from sitting onto the couch and bounce back into a standing position to bow to the older man.

The man shook his hand firmly and introduced himself as the Managing Director of the jewellery brand.

Turns out the brand had wanted Jungkook to take an additional set of photos with you so as to market their newly launched sterling silver couple bracelet sets.

Jungkook was visibly stern, Sejoon sensed that he was annoyed and it could not have escaped the shrewd Director Lee.

“How long has it even been since...”, Jungkook muttered under his breath. Fortunately, the Managing Director did not catch what he said and looked at him queerly. This cued Director Lee to quickly let out a chuckle before asking Sejoon to take the Managing Director out to settle some administrative things about the contract.

Once the door was shut, Director Lee’s steely face returns.

“Let’s cut to the chase. This is a luxury brand we intend to work with. The company has already decided on this and I cannot overturn that over such a small issue. It’s just one set of additional photos today and that’s it. What are you grumbling about?”, she said sternly.

“I mean it hasn’t even been that long since the news broke and now we are already doing endorsements as a couple? I can’t imagine what might happen if this carries on...”, although he does not show it much, he was still pretty afraid of Director Lee, in fact any one would be.

“She’s not part of the endorsement... just think of her as an accessory in the photo shoot”, Director Lee spat.

Jungkook’s expression did not budge.

“How about this...”, the older woman murmured in a lower tone.

---

By the time Jungkook was heading out to the shop front again, there was a smirk he could not wipe off his face, as if he had just concluded a wonderful deal.

“Hi, I’m here to pick a set of bracelets for the photo shoot”, he said cautiously to the lady attending to him.

“Sure, which set would you like to get?”, she asked him in return as she took out a velvety platform holding four sets of sterling silver couple bracelets, “We can engrave your names on the back of bracelet”, she commented further.

“Hmm... Could you engrave other things instead?”, he enquired.

“Yes sure, what would you like to have engraved on it?”, the woman was professional and cordial to say the least.

“This, I want this set”, he finally picks out the most basic-looking platinum bracelet.

The girl gingerly places the two bracelets on a tray and hands Jungkook a piece of paper asking him to write down what he would like them to carve onto the crafted metal.

Jungkook picks up a pen from the counter and scribbled something onto the paper before handing it back. She took a glance on the paper, looked befuddled for a split second and then smiles knowingly as though she had figured out the meaning to what was written down.

“Ah is this a special day?”, she asked.

“You can say that it is something special...”, he said cryptically, which made the whole statement a lot more attractive that it should have been, his reserved demeanour causing the sales attendant to inexplicably swoon at him.

---

The buzzer on the table vibrated abruptly, as it should. Yuri shoots up to collect the drinks at the counter while you continued to plough through your messages on your phone.

Sejoon had just returned your handphone that morning. You thought your life would finally start returning back to what it used to be like. You thought.

The phone was not buzzing any less than the buzzer that called for Yuri to pick up the coffee. Messages endlessly flowed in, some claimed to be reporters, some claimed to be fans, some outrightly threatened you. You were not one to flinch in the face of threats as evident from the job you are currently doing but the sheer amount of influx of the threats will spark fear in anyone.

You were obviously tensed, you picked up the phone that started buzzing from a call, this time choosing to just turn off the device altogether. As you finally felt a breather from the digital craziness, you suddenly sense someone looking at you.

You looked up immediately, there was no one between you and the full-length glass window you sat opposite from. Is there someone outside then? You squinted to get a clearer view of the pavement, there was also no one in sight. A few cars were parked along the kerb, people were walking to and fro across the road.

Yuri returns to her seat across you, and as she sat down you tilted your head to continue your passive investigation. She turns to look behind her and out the window.

“What are you looking at so intently?”, she asked turning back to sip on her latte, sighing at the satisfaction of her first caffeine dose today.

“Felt like someone was watching us... do you see anyone suspicious?”, you replied, your eyes still peeled to the surroundings outside the café.

Yuri turns her head to look out again.

“Not sensing much to be honest... maybe you are becoming more sensitive after receiving all those messages”, Yuri’s tone was serious and concerned.

You finally looked at her, “Maybe...”, you mumbled.

Yuri's phone had simultaneously been receiving an abnormal amount of calls and texts. Although she did not say anything, you knew it was probably analogous to what you were receiving. You felt sorry but you know she would say it was never your fault to begin with.

Just at that moment, Sejoon suddenly bursts through the door and shouted at the both of you. It was a good thing the café had only a few other patrons during this early hour.

“Why are neither of you picking up your phones?! Then what do you get handphones for?!”, he shouted as he rushed to the side of the table.

Surprisingly unfazed, Yuri just asked Sejoon why he was in such a rush to look for them. “It’s hard for me to pick up calls nowadays”, she does not really go further and she was stone-faced.

“Then you should start practicing picking up your phone again...”, after a brief pause, Sejoon seemed to realise something as he watches Yuri’s phone vibrating on the table, “... I will speak to the directors and get you guys new phones for work. Anyway, Y/N, we need you to be part of the photo shoot today.”

The sudden change in topic took a matter of seconds before it registered in your minds and both Yuri and you exclaimed, “Why?”

---

As you sat facing the mirror surrounded by lights, you regretted agreeing to this. You should have made a bigger fuss, sat on the floor and wail or something.

But ever since this ridiculous arrangement came into place you felt lost.

A pair of movie tickets sat on the dressing table, conspicuously laid out and you try to recall again what exactly made you agree to do this photo shoot.

Was it because Sejoon told you that they will avoid taking any photos of your face? Was it because they said it will only take an hour? Was it because they promised to pay you a portion from the profits? Or was it because Sejoon suddenly passed to you two tickets saying it is from Jungkook and he is sorry he made you go through a scolding for what he did last night.

You let out a deep sigh just as Yoongi was walking past the dressing table to head to the washroom. He looked at you in surprise, very briefly. You flashed an awkward smile trying to dissipate the tension. He does not return the smile but stared into your reflection in the mirror. After a brief pause, he finally looked away and walked off.

“What the...”, you muttered under your breath.

---

It took a little more than an hour to get you ready for the photo shoot. The staff paid little attention to your make up given that you were not going to be the focus anyway.

Unsure whether it is because of the perception derived from your occupation, somehow the outfit given to you was just a fashionable jumpsuit – as if they weren’t sure whether you would fit into the slew of dresses they prepared or perhaps they just didn’t think they would suit you.

“Is she ready?”, a woman walks in in a rush, asking another young man who was busy dashing around.

“Yes, she’s over there”, he blurted quickly.

She identifies you without a hiccup and introduced herself as the assistant director. Everything happened so quickly you did not even catch her name as she said it.

“Alright? So if you are all done, head out to the set, I'm gonna go get the props ready. They just finished engraving it I think”, she rambled on.

You had no idea what she was talking about and thank goodness for the busy young man who somehow appeared at your side and ushered you somewhere.

---

The set was beautiful, making use of part of the décor of the boutique itself and giving off a classy but antique vibe.

It seemed like the boys had finished with their part of the photo shoot. Taehyung was hanging around the set with Jungkook, the two of them working hard on taking a selfie together.

The angle of the camera must have captured you because both of them abruptly turned to peer at you. Taehyung pats Jungkook lightly on his shoulders before awkwardly making his exit, although he did give you a tiny smile as he walked past you.

Everything about the current situation was foreign to you. The set-up, your own get-up, the equipment surrounding the set and your photo shoot partner as well.

It does not help that the last conversation both of you had did not end amicably and you recalled how you spitefully talked to him. Despite all that, you were surprised he got you movie tickets and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, he just isn’t that great at expressing himself.

“Thanks for the tickets... didn’t expect you to actually apologise-”, you uttered softly trying to dissipate the tension.

“It’s not an apology”, Jungkook’s response was curt, “It's just so that I won’t feel so bad that you got into trouble for helping me.” He was clearly still mad at how you spoke to him earlier.

Just as you were about to say something in return, the assistant director walks out holding a ribbon clad, dark velvet box.

“Alright guys, let’s start with the shoot, are the cameras up?”, she shouted around, “Y/N, you lucky girl... Jungkook personally picked this out for you”, she directed her attention to you as she sets the fancy box down.

Jungkook was taken aside by his stylist to touch up his hair. You glanced at him wondering if this was an endorsement he could not have rejected, it does not seem like he is willingly doing this from the way he is behaving.

You carefully opened the velvet box, not daring to cause even a little scratch on the cover and picks up the smaller one of the pair of bracelets lying inside. Just as you were about to try it on, the assistant director pointed to it and marvelled, “He even got it engraved, it must mean something special to you”, her tone full of kind envy.

You tilted the bracelet in your hand so that you could see the engraving on the underside.

“5.2”, those were the only carvings etched into the cold hard silver. You thought you had no expectation, so it was inexplicable why you still felt a pain impress itself into your chest. And then, a bolt of light flashes into your eyes.

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thehomierobbstark · 4 years

Text

Kissing Strangers II: Communication

Shame [Prelude] // Kissing Strangers [Part I] // In The Cut [Side Story]

A/N: Annndd we’re back yall!! I know I disappeared for a long while this time, but I’ve been writing and strategizing in the background and I’m hoping I can publish at least some of the things I’ve been working on very soon. Forever thankful for your patience. Forever grateful for your support. Always humbled by the fact you guys allow me to do my thing offline and come back when I need to. Y’all are unreal, and the love is very very real, and I don’t think I can ever put into words how much all of you honestly mean to me ❤️❤️❤️. Anyway. Back to this story. A tiny insight into just one of the things I’ve been struggling with and trying to overcome this year, so I decided to put it into a fic and share it with yall. As always, thank you for the support and I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings: Minimal Erik appearance, this is mostly x reader based. We on some Softgirl shit this chapter ya’ll. There is a POV change at the very end, hopefully it doesn’t read too confusing.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!! x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

Sidenote: No tags this round until I can get a few more pieces out but all new stories will be linked in my bio!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…You know I still don’t see what the problem is, Y/N.”

You throw your head back, silently groaning to keep your friend on the other side of the line from hearing you.

You knew you should have called Simone instead.

“Um, hello??? Did you forget you had me on speaker phone, bitch? Don’t be grumbling under your breath at me goddammit, you know I’m right! And don’t you dare call Simone ass either after we hang up. I love her, but she’ll have you overthinking and seeing problems that aren’t really there. You know how them Scorpios be.”

You mumble a defeated ‘fine, OK’ at her and grab your phone, relocating yourself over to your vanity table to continue your conversation while you do your hair.

Reaching up, you tug the t-shirt wrapped around your head free as your damp curls fall over your face, turning around to drape the wet shirt over the back of your chair.

Tying the front of your hair up in a bun, you grab your spray bottle and one of your brushes and start to spray and detangle your hair, the leftover conditioner in it from the shower helping to make the process easier.

As you gently smooth your brush through your curls and fall into your hair routine, you start to ponder on your current predicament, allowing your friends wise words to penetrate your mind.

Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Don’t get silent on me now, Y/N. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

You take a deep breath, trying to filter your thoughts and make some sense of them.

“I don’t know, Kay. I don’t really know how to explain it. I just feel like he’s not…interested.” You shrug your shoulders even though you know she can’t see it, not really knowing any other way to explain yourself.

“Okay. And what makes you say that?”

You inhale, taking a small scoop of leave-in conditioner and working it through a section of hair while you think.

“I dunno. I feel like when we do talk, its great, and there’s a connection there. But sometimes there’s these long periods of absence with no communication, and when that happens I feel like I’m always the last one whose reached out, you know?”

Raking your fingers through your curls one last time, you watch your coils shrink up in the mirror, the tights spirals coming to life after their first layer of moisture.

Unclipping another section in the back, you scoop some more product into your hands, repeating the process.

“Okay, I can feel where you’re coming from. But let me ask you this: what do you mean by long periods of absence?”

Your hands pause in your hair, and you bite your lip, knowing your next words are gonna make you sound like a complete dumbass.

“Uhh…”

“Yeah?” Kay prompts you to continue.

“Umm.. like… two or three days… sometimes?” Your voice gets really small and high pitched at the end, knowing you were being a little ridiculous.

“…Girl.”

You add some additional info, hoping maybe it will help your case.

“Sometimes it’ll even be a whole week tho, too!”

“Y/N.”

“…yes, Kay.”

“You know Erik is in the military, right?”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at the reminder of a fact you knew and thought about often yourself, especially when it came to this issue.

“Yes, I know that Kay.”

“Okay, then you also know that he probably has a lot on his plate and he’s most likely constantly busy all the time.”

You kiss your teeth, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair again, more-so in a frustratedly-busy way than in a hair-care way.

“Yes Kay, I know that. But come on now. Let’s not act like people aren’t constantly on their phones all the time nowadays. Not to push the tiresome ‘millennial narrative’, but who goes days without checking their phone anymore? It’s not like that nigga is out fighting a war, he’s doing combat training.”

You can hear the undertone of complaint and whining in your voice, and you absolutely hated it. Here you were, a Communications major and Black Women’s Studies minor, and you were getting bothered some dude you kissed once, (okay, twice) wasn’t talking to you enough.

You had yourself fucked up.

You hear chuckling on the other end of the phone and your internal rage subdues itself for a moment, irritation taking its place.

“Damn, Y/N. You must really like this guy.”

You cross your arms, slouching down in your chair while you pout, having too much pride to grace her with a response. She continues, already knowing the look on your face.

“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you get so worked up over someone. He must really be something special.”

You grab your phone, holding it to your face and practically yelling into it.

“HELLO!! Did you not just hear what I said? I just told you this nigga is borderline ignoring me and you just called him ‘special’!”

More laughter takes over on her end again and you toss your phone back on the table, finishing your section and unclipping the last one in the back, muttering under your breath about Erik being a special piece of shit.

Once Kay finally recovers from your mini tirade, she speaks once again, full of a wisdom and knowledge you knew your stubborn ass needed to hear, even if you didn’t want to at the moment.

“He’s not ignoring you Y/N, and you know that. The only reason you feel like this is because you have strong feelings and you’re not sure if they’re being reciprocated or not, and the long distance certainly doesn’t help. Have you told him how you’ve been feeling?”

You sit there and delay a moment, nestling a little more into your stubbornness because of the fact that her words just punched a hole right into the wall of insecurity you’d been maintaining over the years.

She waits for your response, already knowing the answer.

“….No.”

Her voice softens. “Okay, but how do you expect for him to know how you’re feeling if you don’t tell him? You’re letting yourself overthink and go through all of these emotions by yourself, meanwhile he’s half a world away thinking that everything is fine. If you don’t clue him in to what it is you’re going through, he won’t be able to help.”

Finishing with the bottom half of your hair, you wipe your hands off on the damp t-shirt and unwrap the rest of the hair on the top of your head. You frown at her last statement, not liking the way it made you feel.

“I don’t know if he should even have to help me with any of this though, Kay. I mean, these are my issues. I’m the one whose clearly having trouble with this, it’s not fair for me to ask him to help me figure my shit out.”

She makes a hum of acknowledgement while you continue expressing yourself.

“I mean, how would I feel if some dude came to me with a mountain full of problems expecting me to fix them? I’d fucking laugh in his face and walk away. I can’t ask that of him.” The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you had a lot of unresolved issues you were still healing from. What kind of person would you be if you involved yourself with someone else, knowing that?

“Okay. I can see where you would think that, but you’re thinking about it in the wrong way. You think that if you open up to him and tell him what you’re feeling, that it’s the same as asking him to fix your problems. But you’re not like that, Y/N. In fact, you’ve never been like that.”

You think a moment about what it is she’s saying, trying to decide whether or not you agree.

“I mean, think about it, Y/N. When have you ever asked someone for help? I mean genuinely stopped and reached out to someone else, or even told them when you’re having trouble with something? You don’t, hun. You’ve always dug your heels into the dirt and rolled up your sleeves to get it done by yourself because you don’t trust that someone else can really be there for you the way you need them to be. No matter how many people you have in your corner ready to fight for you.”

You think about all the lectures and scoldings you’d gotten from friends and family over the years because of the times you’d soldiered at something alone rather than take the help that was offered to you. You’d felt that if you always needed someone else to help you get through something, then what did that say about your own strength and ability to take care of yourself? You’d rather die struggling than ever give someone else the power to say that you wouldn’t be anything without them.

“Look, Y/N/N. I know this is really hard. And I know this is something you don’t like to talk about, but if you like this guy as much as I think you do, you’re gonna have to learn how to let go and trust that you and Erik are building a relationship where you can truly depend on each other. That includes communicating your feelings even when you’re not sure how the other person will receive them.

It’s gonna be scary as hell, I won’t lie. But you gotta know deep down inside that love can’t exist in the same place that doubt lives. You gotta trust the process.”

You’d stopped doing your hair completely now, sitting back and twirling a finger around one of your strands while Kay talked.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand exactly what she was saying. Kay definitely had the bulk of experience between the two of you when it came to romantic relationships, and the thing you’d come to really admire about her throughout the years of your friendship was her ability to always put herself back out there once again with an open heart and mind, no matter how badly the last relationship may have ended.

Your own inability to deal with your emotional vulnerability was something you were far too aware of, and you’d seen it affect your personal relationships time and time again, your current situation with Erik just being the most recent example.

It was rare for you to catch feelings for someone, and to be honest, the fact that you and Erik had made it this far into whatever it was you guys were doing had you shaken to your core. Every moment and interaction with him was completely new for you, and your uncertainty with navigating this new ‘thing’ was starting to show with your recent anxieties about the situation.

You really wanted to believe that Erik was feeling you, because it was too late to deny your feelings for him. But there was a tiny little voice in the back of your head always saying something to keep you guessing, making you doubt whether or not what the both of you had was even real.

It was time for you to make a decision.

“Y/N? Y/N? You still there?”

You blink yourself back to the present, clearing your throat and picking up the phone, taking it off speaker phone and holding it to your ear.

“Yeah, I’m still hear, Kay.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds far away, still deep in thought as you reflect on the mental hurdles your mind was trying to overcome so you could figure out how to move past the fear holding your heart hostage.

“Well okay, girl. I don’t want to hold you up, but I want you to think about what I said some more, OK?”

You chuckle a little, nodding your head as you answer your friend.

“Okay, Kay. I will. I promise.” You add on the last two words, knowing that if you said them, she would believe you. You always kept your promises.

“Good. I expect a full report tomorrow morning when I call you before work!” She laughs too, halfway serious. “…And Y/N?”

“Yeah, Kay?”

You can hear her quiet back down a little, the soft tenderness of her voice seeping back into her words once more as she spoke.

“Do me a favor please and try to call him, okay? Just, try and talk to him, at least once. That way when you hear his voice and listen to what he says, you’ll know whether or not what you feel is real.”

Your breath gets heavy and your heart skips a beat, almost feeling it in your throat. Call him? You hadn’t thought of that. Come to think of it, you’d never called him.

Other than the last time you saw him in person, pretty much all your communication had been through text except for the occasional video message.

“Can you do that, Y/N?” Your best friends compassionate voice speaks in your ear, and you swallow thickly, nodding your head.

“Yeah, I can do that I think.”

“You promise?”

Damn. Should’ve never said that shit.

You roll your eyes, stifling a deep breath. “Yeah yeah, I promise.”

“Good!” You can practically feel her cheesy ass grin through the phone, already knowing it was plastered on her face triumphantly from giving you the challenge.

“Love youuu,” she sings out over the phone, and you kiss your teeth, groaning.

“Love your annoying ass too. Now get off my phone, wasting all my damn minutes.”

“Bitch, now you know damn well you ain’t got no one else to talk to to be kicking me off like this.”

“GOOD-BYE KAY.”

After a few more rounds of back and forth and finally hanging up (but not before agreeing to call her back in the morning with allll the details), you walk over to your nightstand and plug your phone in, returning to the vanity to finish your hair.

After slathering your strands in a second coat of hair cream and deciding against using a gel this week, you glance at the clock, noting that the night was still young and you had time to cook and clean the kitchen like you’d planned. Tying your hair up in a high pineapple, you slip on some fuzzy socks and head to the kitchen, stomach grumbling hungrily.

~~~

A couple hours later you plop down onto your bed, completely exhausted and ready to relax. Pulling your bowl of shrimp scampi over to you, you spike a shrimp with your fork, popping it into your mouth while you flip through the channels to find something to watch.

Your eyes glance down to the time on the cable box, seeing that it was only about 7:30.

It should be about 10:30 where Erik is, now.

The thought had crossed your mind before you could even stop it, and you close your eyes, willing yourself to get control over your thoughts.

You promised Kay you would call him.

Goddammit. You slam the remote down on the bed, it making a soft thud against the comforter, and you sit up, placing your bowl onto your nightstand and picking up your phone, unplugging it.

You twirl it around in your hand a few times, trying one last time to try and find a way to talk yourself out of it.

But of course, the one time you actually want the nagging little voice in the back of your mind to say something, she’s as quiet as a mouse.

Before you can second guess it, you quickly open your phone and tap the screen until you reach Erik’s contact, finger hovering over the call button.

It’s time to make a decision, Y/N.

Fuck it.

Taking a deep breath, you press the phone icon, pressing the phone to your ear as you wait for the call to connect.

When it starts to ring, you tense a little, bringing your knees to your chest as you wrap your arm around them, feeling your nerves start to creep up on you.

By the third ring, you wonder if maybe you caught him at a bad time, remembering what he’d said to you once about having a strict bed ti-

“Hello?”

You pause, your mouth agape as your eyes widen, your words getting stuck in your throat.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

You open and close your mouth, not sure what to say.

“Babygirl?”

You finally get the breath back in your lungs, and you speak.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. Sorry, I just, I didn’t know what to say. I…I’ve never called you before.” You give a weak chuckle, your fingers winding themselves tightly around the hem of your shirt.

“I know. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” You can hear the worry in his voice, and you could kick yourself for accidentally making him panic like this.

“Yeah I’m okay, Erik. I’m okay.”

“Okay, good.” You hear his voice calm a little, followed by a whoosh of breath. “What’s up then, baby?”

You feel your insides warm at the pet name, your cheeks twitching at the corners into a small smile.

“Nothing, I um…”

You fist your free hand into a loose fist, twiddling your fingers against one another as you struggle to get the words out.

Just say it.

Closing your eyes, you try again, clearing your throat.

“I uh… I miss you.”

~~~~~

Three thousand miles away at the Natick, MA US Navy Department, Erik stands outside the Naval Operations building, the rough sound of two M1161 Growlers noisily passing by in the background.

It had been a tough week, much like the past four that he’d been struggling to get through without losing a part of himself in some way. He knew you always went to bed early for work, so he’d been putting off talking to you for another few days until he had time that he could set aside and devote to just you.

But here you were, on his line, calling him out of the blue. And the sound of your voice was the sweetest thing he’d heard all deployment.

His cheeks ache at your confession, much like his heart, and he bites his lip to keep from smiling like a lovestruck teen.

“I miss you too, babygirl. More than you even know.”

#okay it's 1 in the morning and i have work tomorrow but i WILL put this in my bio tomorrow okay lol #thehomiefics #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger x black!reader #black panther #bp #black panther fanfiction #black panther fandom

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1stunseeliefaelass · 4 years

Text

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 2: An Unlikely Meeting

Barrcus decided to go over the plan with Morgen again, but only after Mina took the girls out to go play for a moment. After all these little ladies didn't need to know what may happen. That and keeping secrets is rarely a child's strong suit, let own for two of em. Morgen looked to Barrcus as he shut the door behind them again.

With that he began, "So you start taking the trail, make sure you make your rounds around countryside. Be sure everyone sees you, even the bandits. We need to make sure that this is as public as possible."

From there, he detailed the route as one that was often raided by bandits. He further explained that he knew what time they'd strike, due to his future seeing capabilities.

"Why send me on such a route if you know what's coming?" Morgen questioned him.

"Because the Horsemen will be coming along that same route. Specifically around the time you get attacked. They should protect you when finding the carriage."

Morgen's eyes widened, "The Horsemen?! But why would they help me? Why are they even coming here?"

"I may have slipped in details of the book in a few rumors. A carefully spun web I assure you." Barrcus reassured her.

"Why do this? It could put you at risk if Uther finds out what you've done." Morgen frantically explained.

"Please, I've been in the castle this whole time. My spiders however, have not been. Besides, the only way for Uther to find out is if someone in our group told him. As far as the Council knows, it was just a bunch of rumors. Rumors that they need to check."

Morgen thought a moment before nodding, "Very well, I'll trust your judgment Barrcus. Just please, promise me you'll be careful."

"Hmhm, if everything goes as planned tonight, I will be." Barrcus stated with a smile before fading into the shadow.

Morgen then readied herself for the trip ahead. It was just another sort of ride she often took by carriage. To greet the people and make sure they were alright. Course the captain would need some convincing about the path, but she and Mina managed it. The only problem, was Mina couldn't convince the girls to stay there. Morgen believed they'd be safest at the castle, but with the girls' continued insisting and begging she caved. Bringing a thin sword of hers that melded into a mage staff. Course she'd also have to ask Vortigern about bringing them along. Which may lead to a lecture or two as far as she was concerned. With that she entered the throne room, a bit nervous but doing her best to hide it.

"My liege, I came to bid you goodbye before my latest ride out into the country. And I needed to ask something of Uncle Vortigern before I left." Morgen declared as calmly as possible.

"What is it?" Uther inquired of her.

"The girls are insisting I bring them along. I tried telling them no but they can beg way too well these days. I wanted to know your opinion on it first though Uncle. See what you thought of the idea."

Vortigern observed her briefly, and upon seeing her sword staff, "Is this going to be dangerous?"

"The route is a risky one yes. But I wouldn't let anything happen to them and you know it." Morgen replied nervously.

"What time are you going to be back?" Vortigern bade her.

"I shall return before the party, and I'm sure the girls will be tired after I'm back. So they'll likely go to bed all the faster." Morgen stated calmly.

Vortigern sighed, "If you can ensure their safety, I'll allow it."

Morgen gave him a hug, "I'll let them know. Don't worry I'll make sure nothing harms them."

Vortigern reciprocated the hug, "Stay safe, and keep an eye out for bandits."

"Of course Uncle, thank you." Morgen replied before going on her way.

Vortigern let her go and then glanced over at his brother. Uther was barely hiding his jealousy at that moment. "You know if you'd quit with your tirades around her, maybe she'd trust you more."

Uther doesn't return the look, "One must show strength, not weakness."

"Strange how everyone has a different point of view on what weakness is." Vortigern states before inquiring, "So is there anything else I need to know about?"

"No, it's just a Masque, this party I mean. Nothing to worry about." Uther mumbled out whilst staring blankly at Vortigern.

Vortigern feels a twinge of terror at the cold blankness of Uther's gaze before coughing, "Ahem well, I think I should be getting ready for the party."

"Yes that would be a...good idea." Uther muttered out simply before walking off in the opposite direction of his brother.

Vortigern couldn't help but wonder why Uther seemed so, distant this time. Especially so after Morgen hugged him. It was only a hug after all. Surely it was nothing to be concerned with. At least he could only hope so.

Meanwhile Morgen and Mina were enjoying the open road with Anna and Elaine along for the ride. Morgen enjoyed their little game of I Spy whilst waving to the village folk and stopping occasionally to help anyone in need. Wanting to be a good example to the girls after all, and to be a kind person overall. She kept noticing the same group of horse riders following their carriage overtime. Realizing they may likely be the bandits Barrcus had informed her of seeing in his future sight. Eventually her concerns would become realized, as the bandits waited until a particular stretch of wooded road to attack the carriage. Meanwhile the two Horsemen had FINALLY made it to the veil to open a portal through it.

"Took ya long enough." Strife noted in exasperation.

Death only growled at him in response.

"How long do you think you can keep it open?"

Growling again Death shouted, "NOT LONG!"

Once Despair, Dust, Mayhem, and Strife were all through the portal Death created, Death had to be pulled through himself by his younger brother. Strife watched him a bit concerned as he worked to catch his breath.

"Need a minute?"

"Yeah....that would be...appreciative right now..." Death expressed between deep breaths. Strife placed a hand on his shoulder still, and Death only shrugged him off with an, "I'm well. Let's just keep moving."

Strife shook his head before saying, "Alright whatever."

From there the two continued riding on. Soon finding a secluded road without pavement, and with seemingly no travelers on it. Strife however noted his elder brother's paranoid gaze searching the woods surrounding them.

Finally after a long enough silence he groaned, "Ugh....dude."

"Hmm?"

"Stop it!" Strife demanded.

"Why?" Death inquired cocking his head at him.

"You're freaking me out!" Strife urged him.

Death remained simple with his questions, "How exactly is this freaking you out?"

"I dunno you're making me paranoid. What with all that looking around like something's gonna happen. It's like you're expecting a fight."

"Seriously?" Death asked once again in a simple tone before continuing with, "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Stop acting paranoid! Seriously man when you're paranoid I am. We all get paranoid whenever you do. As you only get like that when you're absolutely sure something's gonna happen."

"If you don't keep quiet, something will." Death growled lowly in a threatening tone before calming enough to explain softly, "Just look at the ground, and you'll see why."

"What am I looking for?"

"Just look." Death implored quietly.

Strife did so rolling his eyes, only to find horse tracks around them. None of which came from Despair or Mayhem, "Bandits."

"Yes, that's why I've been looking around. Now shush so I can listen for them." Death whispered to him.

Strife nods at that, "Right.", then begins to palming Mercy at his waist.

Before long they began hearing a cockney accented man saying something rather interesting, "Well well well, looks like we've got ourselves a Princess here. Wonder what we can do with that? Bet he'd probably pay a pretty penny for ya."

A female voice spoke up with an irish sounding accent, "Do your worst gentlemen, you won't get passed me."

"Oh, so she's got some fight in her, wonder what else she's got." The man snidely stated with a smirk.

Course Death and Strife have come to witness this, and Death has chosen to comment on it, "So what seems to be the matter here?"

"None of your business fellow traveler."

Strife however retorted, "Seems to be, you're in our way."

"We'll move this alongside, you don't need to worry about this."

"Right don't worry about it eh? Brother?" Death bade.

"Way ahead of ya bro." Strife remarked, drawing Mercy with lightning speed.

"We gonna have a problem here?" The man asked both brothers.

"I guess we will." Death mumbled before he and Strife descended upon the bandits.

Death unhooked Harvester from his belt, leaped off Despair, then began cutting bandits down. Strife pulled out Redemption in the meantime. Then whilst taking some bandits out with Mercy, used Redemption to take out the main one's kneecaps.

As the man attempts to crawl away, Death came up to him, "Oh no you don't."

After being picked up by his collar, the man begged of Death, "Wh-who....w-what are you?"

Strife shook his head, "Just some good samaritans passing by. What about you though? You gonna be a body? Like my brother other here wants to see? Or you gonna apologize to this young lady, and be someone living?"

"I'm sorry! Eh please call off your dogs!" The man begged looking at the woman.

"They are not of mine or the King's. Who am I to order them what to do?" She says a bit coldly.

"You may be one of the few people I actually like. Huh." Strife mused aloud.

"Well what do you think?"

"Hmm I dunno, has he had enough?" Strife checked with both Death and the woman.

"Like I said, I have no orders to give you. As you are not servants to me. Therefore I leave it to you good sirs." The lady states matter-of-factly.

"Well I guess the other person I would need to ask is you. So what do you think brother? Let him walk, or kill him?" Death tendered almost menacingly.

"Hmm....1....2...." Strife began.

The man, realizing what was happening, tried to scurry away. Failing miserably to do so as Strife counted down further towards ten.

"7.....8.....9 10!" Strife shouted before firing off at the man, killing him.

Once the man lay dead, Death could hear what sounded like little girls crying. He also heard another woman speaking softly, likely trying to calm them.

Sighing he muttered under his breath, "Shit.", then looking to Strife, "Brother would be so kind as to check on who's crying?"

"Right." Strife responded before heading up to the carriage door. Quietly knocking he called out softly, "Hello, anybody in there?"

A scottish accented woman responded, "Aye stranger, meself and two little lassies 'ere."

"Alright.", then after grabbing some chocolate from a side pocket on his belt, "Have you been good for the nice lady in there?"

The woman calls out to him, "Forgive em sir, they're still quite scared ye see. Being as young as they are. But they are nodding and I'll confirm they've been good and quiet in 'ere with me."

"Ok think they are deserving of a candy bar?"

"Oh of course. I'm sure it'd go a long way in helping calm them down too. Bless ye sir, both of ya out there." The woman replied to him.

He hands it over through the door and is surprised by the two little ones hugging his arm as they take the candy.

He's left stuck there for a moment and looks at Death, "Uh bro, need a little help here."

Death only shook his head, "It's best you leave my brother alone. Lest you hurt yourselves by accident."

Course he heard one of them reply with a sniffle, "We're being careful mister."

"Ok then, brother?"

"Yeah I'll keep my uh....'toys' locked up real tight." Strife remarked.

The woman from inside finally opened the carriage and Strife found himself being hugged by both little girls once they were out. Now they just clung to his legs.

"For crying out loud."

"Heheh, had to expect that one coming." Death stated snidely.

Strife looks up, trying to resist the urge to pat both their heads. Meanwhile Death inquired of the short and stout red head that left the carriage with the girls,

"Are you alright miss?"

"Oh I'm fine, I'm mainly worried about me mistresses. Her especially." The red head stated going up to the Princess.

"Oh Mina, please I'm fine. Not even a scratch on me." She replied calmly.

"That's only because they needed you alive. What use is a corpse in a ransom? She had every right to worry for you." Death retorted.

"Well I may not seem like much sir, but I indeed can hold my own." The woman proclaimed.

"Morgen, you don't know much in offensive spells. And ye've not wielded a proper blade in...." Mina began.

"I am more than capable of handling a few bandits. Not that I don't appreciate the aid we received, but still." Morgen insisted.

"May I take a look at your staff?" Death inquired of her.

Morgen cocked her head but allowed him to see it. After a bit of observance he noted that there wasn't much in terms of power for this staff. An indication of the wielder's power level. He also was surprised by the thin blade on the inside of the staff.

Course the thinness of the blade was also amusing to him, "In case you were caught off guard?"

"I was a knight some time ago. Sadly my order was....retired, so to speak." Morgen informed him.

"Hmm....may I ask, why are the four of you out on these roads? You'd think you'd be safer in a castle." Death questioned her.

"I'll not lie about you being correct on that last part. But we're out here because I like to check on the people every now and then. Make sure they are well and all."

The girls then piped up in unison whilst finally releasing Strife, who'd begun losing circulation in his legs, "And we just wanted to come with her."

Death glanced their way then back to Morgen, he did this a few times, as if searching for something then finally posed another question, "Are these yours?"

"Oh no. They're my Cousins." Morgen explained.

"Oh. Well then that's a bit interesting." Death noted before looking at Strife.

"Well you know how Fae are. Who knows they could be her seventeenth cousins." Strife remarked as he rubbed at his leg muscles.

"I assure you, they are my Uncle's only children." Morgen insisted.

"Seriously? I thought you Fae got down and dirty every single day of the week." Strife said confused.

"First off, stereotypes. And second off, that's more like your Satyr friend." Death retorted.

Morgen cocked her head at that, "And this friend is...who exactly?"

Both brothers replied, "Puck."

"I'd be concerned normally by such an answer. But he's been on his best behavior today at the castle. Wouldn't be surprised if Uther invited him to the party after the self portrait he painted." Morgen explained simply.

Strife's eyes widened, "Huh. Well then, nine times outta ten he's gonna be playing. May as well go say hi to him."

"Actually you may have more time to converse than you think. Considering that you did aid us. I'm sure the King and my Uncle would be glad to reward you in some way." Morgen replied.

"Well we were just interested in getting to the party that's it." Death simply stated to her.

"Will Mina here be attending?" Strife asked attempting to flirt that direction.

Mina however answered for Morgen this time, "First off lad I'm a maid. I won't be doing much beyond working the kitchens. Secondly, I do have someone in my life thank ye very much."

After the cold rejection Strife mumbled out, "Must be a lucky bastard.", then as a spider began crawling up his back...., "EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

As Mina began snickering, Death just looked at him confused and annoyed, "Serves you right casanova."

Meanwhile the spider somehow was unharmed and crawled up Mina's body before settling on her shoulder. From there it gave her a sweet little nuzzle. Death then suddenly took notice of it and inquired cautiously, "Is that you're pet?"

"Hmm? Oh no. This one is controlled by the man in me life." Mina replies stroking the spider. And Death is surprised again by the spider suddenly getting all giddy.

"Ooooooook then." Strife remarked slowly backing away in concern.

Death looked down at the ground in front of the carriage, noticing tracks of horses heading away from it. That and the cut harnesses on the ground indicated quite clearly what had happened.

"Well.....the horses have gone wild. We can use our steeds to pull the carriage along, if you wish." Death explained to Morgen.

"That'd be a help. Thank you. I wish we could find the horses, but that may not be a fruitful search. Especially not with the amount of time left before the Masque." Morgen contemplates.

"Oh so you're heading there now?" Death questioned.

"Yes, I am the Princess after all. I should probably be there to get ready." Morgen replied a bit snidely.

"Uhmm...you mind giving us some assistance? Me and my brother here would like the attend." Death told her as Strife continued to stare at the spider on Mina's shoulder.

"Of course. As I told you before, Uther and my Uncle would be happy to reward you I'm sure." Morgen stated.

"Great, sounds cool. Uhm I'll be in the carriage. D...Argh!", Strife began before Death elbowed him, "Ahem, my brother will be outside. He doesn't really like cramped spaces that much."

"It's not the space it's the company, for the most part." Death said.

"Perhaps you'll permit me to ride out with you, for directions and all?" Morgen inquired.

Strife then realized something and asked, "You're royalty, you didn't drive this yourself did ya?"

Morgen's eyes widened, as she clearly began remembering something, and she then started looking around frantically, "Oh dear, I hope he's alright."

Death cocked his head simply, "Who?"

"The captain of the guard was our driver. I heard screaming when the horses took off, maybe they dragged him along!" Morgen exclaims in minor panic.

"He's indeed with the horses." Death expressed just as simply before telling Strife, "Brother, let's hooks the horses up and get these ladies over to the castle as soon as possible."

"What about the captain guy?"

"The horses will eventually slow down, allowing him to get his footing again." Death replied before working with Strife to hook up their own steeds.

Despair sat perfectly still and gave no fuss as Death hooked him on, Mayhem however was a different story. Attempting to kick Strife in the head, and biting at Death. Only stopping when getting kicked himself by Despair. The two horses then shared an annoyed growl between them. Course during all this, a certain rodent was getting slightly shoved about. Only revealing himself by accident with a scared whimper after the two steeds growled. Death of course heard it all the same.

"FUZZBALL?!"

Fuzzball shook inside the saddlebag he was hiding in, scared even more now. Course he only really began to shake when Death angrily threw open the bag he was in.

"What are you doing HERE?!" Death demanded of the rodent.

Fuzzball whimpered even more and shrunk down in his fear, course Strife couldn't stand it anymore and grabbed Death's shoulder, "Bro chill out dude."

Death growled before grabbing Fuzzball with one hand, he could feel just how badly the little ball of fur was shivering now. "Do you know how dangerous this mission could actually be?!"

Fuzzball covered his ears with his little paws terrified, whilst the two girls were now huddling against Mina again.

Strife gripped his shoulder tighter, "Dude look around for a moment."

Death looked around for a moment at last and recognized the girls were currently scared of him now. As was poor Fuzzball. Grumbling quietly, he marched up to the girls and bent down to their level. From there he handed over Fuzzball, "Do you think you can keep an eye on this one for me?"

The girls looked at him from behind Mina's skirt, and Anna asked him, "How come you yelled at him?"

"Cause he's not supposed to be here." Death told her gently.

Elaine then spoke up, "Is it because you have a dangerous job?"

"Well.....to say the least." Death replied.

"We get it, Daddy always leaves us with Cousin Morgen when he's going somewhere scary." Anna stated as she swayed around like most kids her age do.

"My job is far more...horrific. Let's just say it would give you nightmares. And Fuzzball here is...way too fluffy for my work."

The girls then take Fuzzball and begin cuddling him. With that Mina takes them inside but points out, "So I imagine with these steeds we'd be traveling very fast then eh Horsemen?"

Death froze at that and looked over at the horses, realizing too late that he forgot to cloak them in any glamour spells. As best he could, he came up with the following excuse, "Uh.....we use this camouflage to scare off any bandits...heheh..."

"Really now? And how is that supposed to work if they attack ye anyways?" Mina probed.

"Well it's supposed to be a deterrent. Would you attack the Horsemen?" Death insisted to her.

"I get that part, but how could it be a deterrent when it failed as such? Given that the thieves attacked anyway." Mina explained.

"Heheh....it's because I'm not wearing Death's mask. It's far scarier." Death smugly stated.

"You mean far edgier?" Strife corrected him even more smugly.

Death turned his way with a death glare, "Riiiiiiiiight."

"If everyone is quite finished, shall we finally head out?" Morgen requested.

"Yes let's." Death stated before putting a glamour spell on the horses whilst pretending to do the opposite and muttered, "Since it didn't work this time."

Morgen looked at him curiously as Strife hopped into the carriage with the ladies. Morgen then got into the driver's seat. Or rather attempted to before Death lent her a hand, "Here, let me help."

"Ah thank you." Morgen replied before taking his hand.

Death couldn't help but note how....powdery her hand felt. Sure it was soft as any royal's would be, but he hadn't expected powder. Usually a royal would use hand lotion or something, not that. It actually reminded him of the feeling of porcelain the more he thought about it.

Finally after rubbing his fingers together in confusion he asked her, "Uhm...what's that on your hands?"

"Hmm? Oh the powder you mean? Oh just some makeup powder. Why?" Morgen inquired.

"You'd expect lotion."

"Ah yes, well.....I have my reasons sir." Morgen explained simply whilst the spider on Mina had migrated to watch the two of them. When Morgen mentioned the powder, it seemed to try and get closer to her. It looked as though it was trying to search for something. Course it's stealth failed as it crawled up her body, causing Morgen to jolt a bit. She glanced at the spider only to find it looking all adorable at her. She patted the thing gently and watched as it ended up with a bit of powder on its head.

#Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Darksiders OCs #Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited #Death #Strife #Despair #Mayhem

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prolestariwrites · 4 years

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Time To Go [5]: Things Have Gone So Horribly Wrong At This Point

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 5/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 5: Things Have Gone So Horribly Wrong At This Point, in which Nero meets a former President, Dante and Vergil race, and Nico’s van gets a makeover.

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The van screeches to a stop in an empty parking lot. One street lamp flickers in the corner; otherwise, it's quiet—there are no lights, no cars, no people. It is the perfect spot for them to regroup and figure out their next move.

Dante opens the side of the van and climbs out as Vergil and Nero do the same. Reaching inside, Dante grabs the demon by the front of his coat, ignoring Trish's protest, and sets him down, the demon's legs dangling over the side of the van. Planting his foot up on the edge, Dante says, "Start talkin'."

The demon looks up, shaking slightly. "I don't—"

"Listen, shit head," Dante sighs. "It's one in the morning, I got this kid up my ass, I've had to look at my brother's ugly mug all night, and a cat stole my pizza. I'm pissed, tired, hungry, and I want to go home. So fucking talk."

"I don't know anything!" the demon cries.

Trish leans her forearm on the side of the door. "I thought you said you were good at this."

"I thought you said he'd know something."

Next to Dante, Vergil huffs. "You might try asking an actual question."

"Okay, everyone back off!" Dante snaps, holding up his hands.

"Move." Nero pushes him out of the way, stepping up in front of the demon. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Abe Lincoln," the demon replies.

Nero nods. "Okay, Abe. There's a girl missing. Her name is Kyrie. One of you demon assholes took her, and I want to know who. If I like what you have to say, you get to live another day. If I don't, you get a bullet in your head, just like your namesake. Understand?"

It is hard to tell what exactly the demon's expression is with his human suit so mangled, but Dante assumes it hits somewhere between annoyance and disgust. "Fucking humans," he says. "What makes you think I know anything? You all look the same to me."

Nero takes out his revolver and pushes it against the demon's head. "You have five seconds."

"He's not kidding," Vergil says. "He shot me earlier."

Dante snorts, but notes how Nero's fingers flex and coil around the grip of the gun. If they aren't careful, he'll blow the informant away before they get any information. "All right, kid," he says. "Let's give him a chance to answer."

"You're crazy!" the demon snaps. "All of you are crazy!" It looks up at Trish hissing, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Just answer their questions," she says tiredly.

"Time's up," Nero says.

The demon puts his hands up. Half the suit falls off and hits the ground, and Dante wrinkles his nose in disgust as it splatters on his boots. "Okay! Okay! What's her name? I don't know, maybe I heard something—"

"Kyrie," Nero replies coolly.

The demon nods. "Okay. I mean, maybe? Lots of demons take humans for food or power or just for fun. I don't know their specific names though."

"She's from Fortuna," Dante offers.

"Fortuna? I don't fuck with Fortuna." The demon gives a weird hissing sound that could be laughter. "Anyone that has any sense stays the hell away from there."

"That's funny, I kill plenty of demons there," Nero says.

The demon looks at him scornfully. "Newbies," it replies.

Dante heaves a sigh. "Listen, Abe, you got something for us or what?"

The demon looks around nervously. "No! I don't know. I ain't heard nothing about taking people from Fortuna, and I ain't heard the name Kyrie. Don't kill me!"

The three men exchange a glance. "He's telling the truth," Trish says. "He wouldn't lie, would you, sweet?"

"No, ma'am," the demon answers.

Dante narrows his eyes at Trish but she offers only a cool smile. "I'd really, really appreciate you not killing this one. It took me a long time to find a worthwhile informant."

Nero makes an angry noise in his throat, but he lowers the gun. "If I find out you lied to me, I'm going to come back here and rip your heart out myself." Then he steps away and walks around the van, climbing into the driver's side and slamming the door shut.

Dante swallows uncomfortably. He looks at Vergil and says, "Got any other ideas?"

Vergil shoots him a look but doesn't answer. Dante nods and says to Trish, "Thanks for trying anyway. I guess we'll head back and figure out our next step."

"No problem." Trish hops out of the van and tugs the demon with her. "Give me a call if you need anything else." She walks away, dragging it behind her, until they disappear into the night.

Dante heaves a huge sigh. "What a damn mess."

"We should go back to Fortuna," Vergil says. "Start looking there. I'm still not convinced she didn't leave on her own."

"Don't push that with the kid," Dante growls. "He's feeling bad enough."

"Let's go." Vergil steps into the back of the van, leaving Dante to kick the tire in frustration.

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They are halfway back to Fortuna and in the middle of nowhere when something inside the van makes a loud popping sound. Smoke starts pouring out from under the hood, and with a series of curses Nero pulls over to the side of the road. The van sputters as it rolls to a stop, and all three men climb out and step around to the front hood.

The only light on the road comes from the van's headlights. There is not a sound, not even animals in the distance, and they had not passed another vehicle for at least an hour. Nero rubs the back of his head as Dante checks his phone, which has no signal bars above the time that reads 2:28 am.

"Now what?" Vergil asks.

"Guess we walk." Dante heads to the van and opens the side door. He climbs in and grabs an empty bag, rummaging around for anything they might need. He finds a flashlight, a smattering of knives, and a candy bar, the rest of it just being Nico's junk that he can't make heads or tails of anyway. He munches as he returns to the others, who are still staring at the smoking van. "You guys coming or what?"

Nero slams his fist on the hood of the van, leaving a small dent. "This is bullshit!" he shouts. "We came all this way, and for nothing! We're no closer to finding Kyrie and now the van—" He lets go a yell and punches it again, and again. His demon arm activates, the blue light looking eerie in the dark, and with a final growl Nero rips off the entire hood and tosses it towards the wooded area off the side of the highway.

It skids across the ground with a metallic, grinding sound until it comes to a stop. Dante swallows the rest of the candy bar as Vergil glances at him. He gives a shrug, and Vergil nods. They stand shoulder to shoulder and watch as Nero continues his tirade for another minute or so, the van left with holes and dents in the metal, and the windshield now sporting a nasty crack that runs diagonally through the glass.

Nero plants his hands on the side of the van, leaning his head down as he takes heaving breaths. His shoulders shake as he tries to get a hold of himself, and Dante clears his throat. "You good now, kid?"

"No, I'm not good," Nero hisses. "What are we gonna do now? She's still gone and…" Metal screeches as his demon hand bends the frame under his grip. "This is just like Fortuna. I was too weak to protect her then, and now she's been taken all over again. I'm supposed to keep her safe but this shit just keeps happening, because of me."

Dante wads up his trash and shoves it in his pocket. "Ah come on, you don't know that—"

Nero whirls on him, the edges of his eyes glowing, the devil inside him kept at bay with the barest threads of sanity. "It's because of me, and you, and him—" Nero points at Vergil, who tenses in response, "—and Sparda—I wish I wasn't a part of this fucking family!"

Dante can feel his own demon powers rallying inside in response, but he tempers it easily even as he sets his jaw. "Fighting me ain't gonna get you anywhere," he warns.

"It'll make me feel a hell of a lot better."

"Nero," Vergil says in a warning tone.

Dante can't help but stiffen a bit. He has no idea what to say at this point, if there is anything that can be said to calm the kid down. But he knows for sure whatever lecture Vergil has planned is going to end with them all bloody, so he sighs and shakes his head, bracing himself for it.

To his surprise, Vergil simply says, "Come on. It's getting late."

Nero blinks in surprise when Vergil turns and starts walking up the road, his strides purposeful. He glances at Dante who gives the kid a smile and a shrug, slinging the bag over his shoulder and following. He smiles at the stunned silence behind him, only broken when Nero shouts, "Where are you going?"

Dante turns and walks backward, squinting at bit at Nero's silhouette illuminated by the headlights. "Gotta be something up the road," he calls back. "Best to keep moving."

He stares at the back of Vergil's head as they continue on, and a half minute later the headlights go out. Dante can hear Nero's footsteps hurrying up behind them, and again he smiles to himself. He picks up the pace a bit, a renewed energy letting him pass Vergil, who makes a noise behind him. "Don't walk in front of me," Vergil mutters. He moves a bit faster to catch up with Dante, making sure to walk just fast enough to stay a half step ahead.

Dante picks up his pace in answer. "Too slow, old man."

Vergil starts walking so quickly he is nearly jogging, and Dante begins trotting along to pull ahead. "What are you doing?" Nero calls behind them, but neither brother answers. Their speed increases incrementally until they are both moving at a quick jog, when Dante gives Vergil a shove.

"Watch it!" he snaps.

"Watch you eat my dust," Dante laughs.

He sprints forward, running as fast as he can. "That doesn't even make sense!" Vergil yells behind him, and a moment later he appears by his side, the two racing down the highway in the dark.

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The little office of the rundown motel is crowded with all three Spardas inside. There is just the front counter in front of a wall with dangling keys, the attendant looking up at them in a surprised half-daze, as they squeeze into the waiting room. Nero looks around at the stained green carpet and the calendar on the wall that is three years late, his skin itching just being in here. "Van broke down about thirty miles back," Dante says. "You got a phone we can use for a tow?"

The attendant leans over to turn the volume down on the little television set on the counter. "Only tow around here is Richie, but he won't answer this late. You'll need to wait until morning."

Nero huffs and pushes his way through the other two. "We're in a hurry."

The guy squints his eyes up at him. "You fellas in the circus or something?"

Dante gives a loud laugh. "Something. Since we gotta wait, you got a room? Three of them."

"Yeah." He pulls out a book and starts to write. "It'll be ninety dollars, plus tax."

Vergil and Dante exchange a look. "All you, brother," Vergil says.

"I ain't got it." He nods to Nero. "You can cover, right?"

"Not after I had to pay that woman and then buy you pizza," Nero mutters. "I only have another thirty on me."

Dante leans on the counter. "What can we get for thirty?"

The attendance swallows. "One room for the three of you. Checkout is at ten."

Nero grumbles under his breath, pushing past Vergil to go outside. After chasing down the two idiots they had spotted the neon Vacancy sign, heading over from the highway. It is nearly three in the morning now, and Nero can feel tiredness in his muscles and joints between the driving, the fight, and then the run. A shower and a couple of hours of sleep actually had sounded good, even in a fleabag place like this, but he still itches to get back to Fortuna and look for more clues.

The room is as bad as he had feared. Two double beds are inside, the mattresses lumpy and the blankets looking unwashed. Dante immediately flops on one, his frame taking up the entire space as he crosses his legs and props his hands behind his head. "Not so bad," he says as Nero and Vergil exchange a glance.

"It's awful," Vergil says.

Nero reluctantly agrees, watching as Vergil steps through the room tentatively. He turns and looks at Nero and says, "I'm not sharing the bed."

"Don't bother," Nero snaps. "I'm not gonna sleep anyway."

He strides through the room to the bathroom. The tile is cracked and dirty and the shower looks like it hasn't ever been cleaned, and he doesn't even want to look as he closes the toilet and sits down on the lid. In the next room he can hear Dante flip the television on as Vergil gripes about the inch of dust on the bedside table. Guilt fills his stomach as he thinks about the way he destroyed the van and railed against them both. Nero heaves a sigh, dropping his head down. Despite his tantrum, they had stayed with him and hadn't given him any grief about the van. That has to mean something.

"Hey kid!" Dante pounds on the door, startling him. "There's a vending machine, you want something?"

Nero chuckles. "Sure," he replies.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #vergil sparda #nero sparda #nerokiri #dmc nero #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc trish #fan fiction #time to go #my fic

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365daysofsasuhina · 4 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Thirty-Nine: File Folder ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

When his alarm sounds, blaring from the speaker of his phone, Sasuke gives a groan and rolls over. A hand fishes around for the device, managing (after several fumbles) to silence the damn thing.

Once his room is quiet again, he sighs and sinks back atop the mattress.

...it’s Tuesday. He has work today.

Ugh.

An arm slung over his eyes, he shifts it up to his brow, staring at his ceiling. Most of the room is dark save for a soft glow that peeks out from a tiny gap above his window’s blinds. The entire space looks blue. Mind oddly blank, he takes a minute or two to let his brain catch up, and then heaves himself up out of bed with a grunt.

Footsteps take him to the shower, which quickly fills with hot water. To this day, he doesn’t know how Itachi manages those cold ones. He’d sooner cut off his left hand. Whatever benefits the elder brother claims they have are not worth it. Within seven minutes he’s back out, toweling off and getting dressed. Lacing up his shoes, he abandons the apartment bedroom and heads instead into the belly of the flat. Breakfast is two hard boiled eggs and toast, all washed down with a cup of coffee. While he indulges in meals out fairly often, today just feels like a morning in kind of day.

Finally checking his phone, he notes the small nine-plus on his messages. Seems he was pretty popular after heading to bed last -

...oh.

Opening his messages, he can’t help a flinch. They’re all (but one) from Sakura. The extra is from his brother, reminding him of a meeting they have this afternoon with a client. The rest he builds up courage for before opening.

It’s a long tirade that bounces between anger, woe-is-me, accusations, pleads for pity...a typical Sakura exchange. Seems her being fired yesterday didn’t go over well...and she is, as he predicted, blaming him. Claiming it’s all an elaborate hoax to get her out of his hair.

...well, she’s half right. His father’s decision to remove her was a good segue into him telling her he really isn’t interested anymore. But it wasn’t him who suggested or thought up the move. That was entirely on Fugaku, but...good luck convincing her of that with her mind already made up for his guilt.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he decides to try and head off a reply now.

Sakura, it wasn’t my decision, it was my father’s. I was just as surprised as you were. But you’re right - I think this is as good a sign as any that we need to get some distance. Whatever that was between us...it’s been over for a while now. I have to get to work. For now, we both have some adjusting to do. Good luck.

Maybe a bit blunter than he meant it to sound, but...he’s rather sick of her attitude, anyway.

And all of this reminds him of what, instead, is waiting for him at work.

In the interim as Fugaku finds his younger son a new permanent secretary, Sasuke’s been assigned a temporary one: a girl from their billing department is filling in until a new hire is found. She’s only been there since yesterday, and admittedly Sasuke didn’t see much of her - she spent a great deal of time being walked through the process by Itachi’s assistant. Thankfully Sasuke’s day had been pretty light, and he hadn’t really needed her for anything.

...there’s just one problem.

She’s really cute.

And Fugaku had given him a lecture about office romances when he’d broken the news about Sakura’s being let go, citing his fallout with her as a small but real part of her being fired. But Sakura, to be fair, hadn’t really been much of anything except a casual, once-in-a-blue moon sort of deal. Her ‘distraction’ had been minimal at best, and it was far more her behavior that got her sacked. Sasuke’s attitude toward her making her sour had just been a chip off the iceberg.

Now she’s out of the picture, and Hinata - the girl from billing - will be there two weeks tops, according to his father. Then back to billing she’ll go, several floors down. And Sasuke’s new help, as Fugaku warned, will be someone he won’t be too keen on sleeping with, in hopes of curbing his tendency to make the office...tense.

Which, in his mind, isn’t wholly fair. Sakura was the one who made it such a big deal...and it was the only time it happened. It wasn’t like he had a list ten people long he’s messed around with! The way Fugaku spoke made it sound like a bad habit…

But now he’s got this to deal with. Hinata. Unlike Sakura, she’s been charming, sweet, and far more polite. As much as he hated to admit it...he was a bit smitten almost immediately. And he did not want to prove his father right. So, he’d holed himself up in his office, watching through the windows as she got mini lessons from the other secretary.

So...what to do. She won’t be in the department forever - and Fugaku had, even if he hadn’t been wholly serious, suggested that being that removed would make any possible relations more...excusable. Should things go south, they wouldn’t be forced into close quarters like he and Sakura had been.

But his pride also tells him it’s a dumb idea if only because he knows his father will give him shit about it.

Scowling to himself, Sasuke glances at his phone - he’d better get going, or he’s going to be late.

He can’t avoid her forever.

Thankfully it’s a short drive to the proper building, and then an elevator ride to the right floor. It’s already bustling - any day a new client comes to have talks, it’s all the executive department can talk about. Itachi’s already agreed to brief him on it - it’s rather last minute, arranged over the weekend and only confirmed yesterday morning.

...to his honest surprise, she’s already there.

Back to him, she’s fishing through a file cabinet by her desk. The top drawer is just a little too tall for her, stood on her tiptoes to peer into it. She’s got a pencil skirt, a dark purple in color that matches the jacket she has on. Dark leggings run all the way down to her shoes, which have just a hint of heel (and yet still not enough to see what she’s looking for). While it had been down yesterday, her hair is caught up in a neat bun this morning.

To his own aggravation, he finds himself subtly giving her backside a glance. He can’t really help himself - that skirt is just -

“Aha!”

Startled from his staring, Sasuke makes to appear as though he’s just approaching, watching as Hinata fetches a file folder before closing the drawer and smiling. “Find what you you were looking for?”

It’s her turn to jump a bit, not expecting him to be so close. “O-oh! Mr. - um...Sasuke! You got a flag from your brother asking you to look over some, um...some forms that pertain to your meeting this afternoon. I believe these are the c-correct ones.”

Head tilting in interest, he accepts the file and skims through it. “Seem to be. I’ll double check with him just to be sure. Thanks for digging them out.”

“Of course!”

Shutting the folder, he looks back up to her. “...seems you’re settling in okay. Anything giving you grief yet?”

“Not so far, no...a-any questions I’ve had, your brother’s assistant has been able to help me with! I think I have the hang of the b-basics. I’ve been trying not to bother her too much...I want to try to get the r-rest on my own. Unless, um...unless something pressing comes up, of course. I don’t want to waste any of your time -”

“It’s fine. It’s pretty rare anything has less than a day’s turnaround. And if they do, you’ll know, and she can help you.”

A light shade of flustered pink alights her cheeks, and he inwardly curses. “Ah...all right. Well, um...I’ll let you get to it! Your brother wanted you to l-look over those forms sometime before this afternoon, so...I don’t want to distract you.”

“All right - I’ll page you if anything else comes up.”

“Got it!”

Taking the file with him, he closes the door to his office and sets it on his desk, standing for a moment with a heavy sigh.

...this isn’t going well. It isn’t going well at all. Why did it have to be her out of anyone in billing? She’s so damn distracting! And not in bad ways, he just...really doesn’t need this right now. Any other time…

A hand reaches and eases at the tension in his brow. Well...best he start going over the paperwork. He rarely has to do much in meetings like this - mostly just pay attention and help make sure nothing is awry - another pair of eyes and ears. But Itachi seems a bit more serious about this one than usual, so...best he put in the effort.

And maybe it’ll help get other things off his mind...

.oOo.

(This is a sequel to day 262!) The sequel no one saw coming xD I know continuing this one - especially almost 100 days later - is SUPER random, but I couldn't NOT do something office related with a prompt like 'file folder' lol - and I like this concept anyway =w= Poor Sasuke. He goes from a not-great hookup with one secretary (and getting in trouble for it) to having one even CUTER and more appealing show up! He just can't catch a break! Well...maybe once she goes back to billing, he can give this a shot. Otherwise, his pride (and his dad xD) won't stand for it. Anywho, I'm still UBER behind, like...17? 18 days? I can't math, but uh...a lot. idk if I'll really have time to do much catching up before the end of the year, but obviously at least SOME of it will spill over into 2020. Whoops? Can't really be helped though, life has just been too much to keep up here like I wanted, but...I won't get too much into that. This was Dec 5's prompt, and uh...well, it's 3am, so it's technically the 23 here, so...yeah, I'm very behind :'D But I'll finish up whenever I can - just wanted to reiterate that, aha~ But for now, it's late, as always...I need to sleep. Thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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