#god... the way he would go in instant panic mode guys...

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.” 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[dragonnnerdd]

jokes on you, maybe I DO want to see a booksized yap session about romeo

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE Makes Romeo Minecraft Story Mode Bible /j

You have NO IDEA how fast I pulled up my writing app when I got this ask.

OKAY, SO I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS STUPID LIL RED BRITISH MINECRAFT GOD MAN

EVER SINCE I WATCHED SOME MCSM S2 VIDEOS WITH HIM, I'VE BEEN OBSESSED.

✨OVERANALYSIS TIME✨

The particular scenes that makes everyone around me so irritated because I won't shut up about them are the last fight scenes of S2 Ep5

First, let's start with the talk Romeo has with Jesse (I'm using M!Jesse for this because he's the one I always want to pick)

Romeo and Jesse talking about how Jesse's life sucks is actually really funny but also a punch to the gut. Like, imagine you finally get to open up to someone about how you wish people would ask what YOU want, and not just what THEY want, and the “someone” in question is a guy who is three seconds away from going “SIKE, I'M MAKING A NEW WORLD, BYEEEEE!”

And on the topic of that scene, *ahem*

THE MUSIC! THE MUSIC! GOD, THAT BACKGROUND MUSIC ADDS SO MUCH EMOTION. FROM THE SOFT MUSIC WHERE YOU THINK, “OH, THIS IS GONNA BE ROMEO'S REDEMPTION ARC,” TO THE PAUSE IN THE MUSIC WHEN HE SAYS “I'LL BE SURE TO REMEMBER THAT FOR NEXT TIME (I'm paraphrasing, can't fully remember since I'm writing this at 4:00 AM),” TO THE BUILDUP WHEN HE IS TALKING ABOUT THE NEW WORLD, AND THEN THE DRUMS WHEN THE BEDROCKING PROCESS STARTS!

I REALLY RECOMMEND PEOPLE WATCH THAT SCENE OR LOOK UP THE SOUNDTRACK FOR MCSM S2 EP5 (it's the one called Bedrocked or Bedrocking or something) AND YOU'LL SEE WHAT I MEAN

THEN THE FACT THAT ONE OF THE WRITERS EVEN SAID THAT ROMEO PARALLELS WITH PETRA MAKES ME WANT TO EAT CEMENT.

DUDE JUST WANTED A FRIEND, HE WANTED EVERYONE TO BE TOGETHER, BUT HE SNAPPED AND EVENTUALLY WENT INTO THE THOUGHT PROCESS OF, “OH, I'LL JUST MAKE EVERYONE MY FRIENDS!”

AND THE WAY HIS PERSONALITY CHANGES WITH NO WARNING IS SO GOOD, MAN! THE UNPREDICTABILITY OF A VILLAIN IS ALWAYS SO AWESOME TO SEE! LIKE, ONE MINUTE HE SAYS “You've ruined the therapeutic setting of my zombie mines (paraphrasing again),” to pitting Jesse against one of his own best friends (either Jack or Petra, depending on the choice)

AND HE GENUINELY BELIEVES WHAT HE IS DOING IS GOOD, AND I LOVE THESE LITTLE BITS OF REALISTIC THOUGHT PROCESSES PUT INTO THESE CHARACTERS 

AND WHEN HE IS DISGUISED AS THE SNOWMAN DUDE AND VOS, MAN, DID THIS DUDE PUT IN A LOT OF DEDICATION OR WHAT

Think about it for a moment. He played the part of a fearful man who just saw the world after many years while also acting as himself but in snowman form, he had to act extremely weak as Vos, AND he let himself be hit by a snowball and be thrown into water, where he either was pretending to be drowning, or he ACTUALLY HAD WATER IN HIS LUNGS AND HE STILL CAN'T DIE SO HE HAD TO SWALLOW A BUNCH OF WATER AND COULD BARELY BREATHE FOR THE ACT

Romeo sucked, but gotta give him credit, he was COMMITTED to the act

AND THE WAY THE WHOLE ATMOSPHERE CHANGES NO MATTER WHERE HE IS

THINK ABOUT IT

When he shows up in Beacontown as the Prismarine Colossus, the whole mood goes from happy to, “Oop, we’re all dead.”

When he reveals that he was actually the Admin disguised as Vos--the entire mood changes from a bit hopeful to “OH, DANG.”

When he appears in the Sunshine Institute, the whole mood changes from intense to terrifying.

Every time he appears disguised as Jesse, everyone instantly is either backing away, or frozen in place. 

EVEN AT THE END OF EPISODE 4, THAT SCENE WHERE IT SHOWS BEACONTOWN IN THE DISTANCE AND IT IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, THE MOOD GOES FROM “A SMALL SHRED OF HOPE,” TO HORRIFIED. You know a villain is good when not just the characters, but also the player feels instant panic.

AND THE FINAL FIGHT BETWEEN HIM AND JESSE

THE ANIMATION. THAT ANIMATION IS BEAUTIFUL, MAN. Something that always comes to mind when I think of Romeo, is the animation during the battle when he is disguised as Petra/Jack. The effects are so FREAKING GOOD. 

And when he went into the form of Fred, I like to think he either felt like he was in Fred's situation, that for a short moment, he felt horrified that he had the ability to put this fear into Fred, or that he went into Fred's form as a subconscious way of protecting himself because Fred could've been a source of comfort for Romeo (forget you, canon, they were happy once)

And I can't forget the moment his powers are taken away

First of all, I have little images I think sum up what happened pretty well

Yeah

That's pretty much what happened

But a better way of saying it is, I can imagine what he went through was feeling like you just wokie up after a REALLY long nap and realized you're a whole different person, and everything around you is different, but you realize that all the change is BECAUSE of you, and the memories hit you like a piano to the face.

Best way I can describe it

You can even somewhat tell that he's like, “oh, dang, I did all that,” just from his expression, his body language, the whole vibe of “oops, I suck,” DUDE THE ANIMATORS DID SO WELL

And in ALL THE DIFFERENT ENDINGS WITH ROMEO, HE IS SO WELL-WRITTEN IN ALL OF THEM

If you choose to bring Radar and left Romeo in the Terminal Space, HE STILL SAVES THE MAIN CHARACTERS EVEN THOUGH HE WAS LEFT TO DIE. HE WANTS TO DO ONE LAST GOOD THING, AND THAT'S THE SAME THING FOR IF YOU BRING RADER AND SAVE ROMEO. MOJANG, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR THIS HORRIBLE MAN

AND THEN IF YOU ACTUALLY CAN SAVE HIM, BUT HE DOESN'T SACRIFICE HIMSELF, HE INSTANTLY IS SAD. BESTIE WANTED TO DIE, BUT HE ALSO WANTS TO REDEEM HIMSELF, AND HE ACKNOWLEDGES THE LIVES HE RUINED, AND HE WANTS TO HELP THEM, AND IF XARA IS ALIVE, HE WANTS TO TRY TO RECONCILE WITH HER AND HE IS WILLING TO TRY TO BE NORMAL AND EVEN IF XARA KILLING HIM IS A POSSIBILITY HE STILL IS WILLING TO TAKE THAT CHANCE

BUT IF XARA IS DEAD, HE KNOWS HE WILL NEVER MAKE UP FOR IT AND HE DOESN'T WANT HER MEMORY TO BE IN VAIN AND DEAR GOD WHY IS THIS MINECRAFT MAN IS SO TRAGIC NOW, I'M SUPPOSED TO HATE HIM FOR HIS PAST ACTIONS MAN

Anyway, point is, Romeo is a very well-written character, and his actions in the past were, let's face it, HORRIFYING BEYOND IMAGINATION, but he somehow is able to be redeemed and it's not forced and IT'S WELL-WRITTEN AND EMOTIONAL?? EHH?? Mojang and Telltale sure have a way of making their fans drop to their knees and scream into the heavens over these fictional Minecraft people.

And this guy, he is one of my absolute favorite villains of all time. He is one of the things that forcefully dragged me back into this fandom, and I'm grateful for this stupid, fictional man. Ahem, also both the Admin form and the human form, HEAR ME OUT-

Did I just write a whole rant in one night about a block character from a video game? Yes, yes I did. Is it unnecessarily long? Yes, yes it is. Should I finish writing now and get some sleep because I have a dentist appointment soon? I don't know, I kinda wanna keep writing. Oh, dang, I'm already at 1’300 words. I might make some headcanons for the other Admin's soon, and some for the Blaze Rods (and Jesse's gang, my beloved. And also the Old Order). I need to feed the hyperfixation.

So, uhhhh, feel free to send more asks (just nothing too overwhelming, like over 8 questions in one message for example), and thank you Anon for giving me the opportunity to rant about this red dude.

The Derg is out! 👍

[kelin-is-writing]

oki this one might be a little angsty? xD

at this point you're used to patching dabi up when he returns from missions or whatever he was doing. it's not a big deal (in his mind) anymore but you still worry each time and scold him ofc. he never understood why you make such a big deal out of it until the roles were suddenly reversed and you're the one who got hurt >:)

- 🥛

GOD MILK—

i’ve been thinking about this a lot and let it on stall because i was afraid of making dabi ooc, BUT you know what??? screw that, because i 100% think he would freak-the-fuck-out.

he never ever cared about himself getting hurt, it was irrelevant to dabi what happened to him, that’s how much self-destructive he has become still... when he saw you come back with a wound on your shoulder and another on the left side of your waist, dabi’s brain went blank while his heartbeats started to quicken and breath becoming heavier.

his body was quivering all over like an electric shock went through it and in a second he was already in front of you, eyebrows frowned, dark look in his eyes and lips pressed together “who did this to you?”, he growled with raspy and deep voice, pure anger coming off of him, his stance tense and menacing.

you reassure him that it’s nothing and you’re fine, but he keeps staring at you with a gaze that’s a mixture of rage and worry. the moment you rest your hand on his arm though, dabi relaxes right away, and when you reassure him once again with your beautiful sweet smile he settles down completely.

breathing in deeply from his nose, the arsonist places an hand over yours and after you excuse yourselves to the others he takes you to his room where the black haired boy tends to your wounds, when you giggle he looks up at you quizzicaly with a lifted eyebrow “usually i’m the one patching you up, but this time is the other way around.”, at hearing your words his heart sunk, because to him this wasn’t funny at all, the only thought of something happening to you was eating him up alive from inside.

you were the last person in the world who dabi wanted to see hurt.

lowering his head, the villain bends down to rest his face on your lap and surrounds your waist with his arms, swallowing hard at the thought of losing you, an instant painful pang aimed at his chest just like that “next time i’ll be the one on mission with you... i’ll be there to protect you... so never get hurt again... please...”, that’s the first time you heard him sound so vulnerable, so scared, so... so desperate. it broke your heart.

you moved cupping dabi’s cheeks with your hands and lifted his face up locking eyes firmly with his lost ones “we’ll be fine. you’re by my side and i’m by yours, so we’ll be fine...”, you said hinting at him to be careful himself and with the final reassuring smile you gave him, the raven haired boy felt the anxious feeling inside his chest lessen bit by bit; then when your arms went to surround his neck hugging him close, head resting on your chest, hearing your steady heartbeats dabi closed his eyes, relaxing completely under your tender touch.

whoever dared to hurt you though, has his days numbered anyways 🥰

[bubbleteaimagines]

Pretending to give the Haikyuu Boys Head Prank (Part 2)

Haikyuu Boys Headcanon

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

You already know this boy is hype the minute you bend down in between his thick thighs

There’s a smile on his face guaranteed, and he leans back, his arms clasping behind his head

“Right now pretty girl? Well if you’re sure...this’ll definitely help me win,”

PLEASE he has a match in TEN MINUTES you’re not even sure why you’re doing this but nevertheless-

“Boki what are you talking about? I’m tying your shoe- you know what happened the last time I didn’t,” You tell him and his face just...sinks

“Oh,” HES SO EMBARRASSED his cheeks go red in an instant and it’s taking all you have not to laugh as Akaashi jogs over to you guys

“Warm ups are starting,” He informs the older boy, but Bokuto isn’t moving

Uh oh

“What did you do?” Akaashi panics as Emo Mode™️ surfaces, Bokuto’s face becoming a pout and his hair drooping “You’re supposed to be his good luck charm!”

“I’m sorry!!! Shit I didn’t think this would happen~” And now you’re panicking too cause oh my god you broke the ace AND the Captain right before a game the team is totally gonna kill you, “Bokuto baby it was just a prank!!”

His hair droops even further

Now the puppy dog eyes are coming out

“Seriously?” You groan, knowing there’s only one way to fix this

“Wait- where are you going? We need to warm up!” Akaashi comments, but you’re paying no attention to him as you drag Bokuto off to the nearest storage and get on your knees, for real this time

“You’re so spoiled,” You scoff as you pull down his uniform shorts and Bokuto™️ is back in an instant

“You’re for real?” He practically beams down at you while you roll you eyes

“Not another word,” You warn him, “I don’t wanna hear anything else come out of your mouth unless it’s a moan. You got it?”

SUNA RINTARO

Okay so

Suna’s got like 10 minutes between the second and third set and he usually spends it with you somewhere quiet, away from the noise

Today you’ve decided to drag him back to the locker room, and he seems super tense so you decide to pull a little prank to get him to loosen up

While he’s complaining talking about the twins getting on his nerves, you suddenly bend down to eye level with his dick

Honestly, you weren’t even sure if this would work on Suna, but the minute you see his eyes widen ever so slightly, you have to fight your smile back

“What are you doing?” He asks, pushing your head away, “I’ve got a game in five minute. You can’t-”

“Pick up your towel? Why not?” You fake frown and stand back up, handing him the white cloth, “Don’t wanna lose that. Kita would be mad.”

“Did you just-” Suna cannot believe the shit-eating grin on your face and mentally you’re cheering yourself on because you finally got him to react

“Come on,” You grab your shellshocked boyfriend’s hand and drag him away before he can say anything else, “I think they’re waiting for you. Do your best out there babe! Kick some ass!”

Oh, he was definitely was

You felt yourself shrinking underneath his gaze as a heated Suna sulked back onto the court

Silently, in the middle of the game, right after Suna had served, he turned to you and held up the hand he used to hit the ball

You gulped

You knew what that meant

‘Get familiar,’ He mouthed to you, before turning back to the game and doing it again

Well shit

Your ass was definitely gonna be sore in the morning

MIYA ATSUMU

He’s like a puppy the minute you get down on your knees, even though you’re in the middle of having dinner with his brother

Osumu went to use the bathroom really quick and now Atsumu’s eyes are as wide as the dinner plates, a small noise escaping his throat as you bend between his legs

“H-Here? Are ya sure?” His eyes nervously flicker towards the hallway but he can’t deny, he’s excited, “Well if ya insist- just be quick, okay doll? Sumu might actually kill this time if he-”

“Aha!” Atsumu jumps as Osumu suddenly returns, and you shimmy up just in time, smirking

“I knew I dropped my fork,” You say, biting your lip to keep yourself from laughing

Atsumu looked embarrassed, horrified, and shocked all at once, looking between you, Osumu, and then back at you

“Would you close yer trap? Yer gonna get drool all over dessert,” Osumu complains, and you can’t help but laugh as Atsumu completely deadpans

“Not funny,” He whispers to you, pouting as he reaches for a napkin

“What was that?” Osumu gives him the side eye

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “Wasn’t talkin to you, dumbass,” He grumbles, aggressively stabbing at the cake

KUROO TETSURO

Cocky mf

Is already relaxing the minute you drop to your knees in front of him while he’s playing a game with Kenma

He’s all like, “Yeah I’ll be right back,” and takes his headphones off, smirking when you stare up at him

On the inside you’re trying so hard not to laugh cause Kuroo truly thinks he’s getting that gluck gluck 3000

After all, you are giving him that look and Kuroo’s never been more excited

“While I’m gaming? Damn that’s new...you must really want-”

“Your chemistry book,” You tell him slowly, a smile creeping into your face as you pull out the hardback you had conveniently placed there, “It has a lot of good notes, baby. You’re so smart!”

To add insult to injury you have the nerve to kiss his cheek all innocently, before giggling and making your way back to the bed, holding in your laughter

On the other line, Kenma is trying not to laugh too cause he realizes what just went on and Kuroo.exe has stopped functioning

“Did you just...” He asks slowly, turning around in him chair to face you, “...Prank me?”

“Say hi to the camera babe,” You tell him smugly, before bursting out laughing

Kuroo’s still on shocked, but on the outside he’s smiling at your little joke but on the inside it’s just pain 😔💔

“Haha, that was good baby,” He says with tears in his eyes. This dramatic mf, he tells Kenma something over the game and then he exits out, standing up and then walking to the bathroom

“Ha- wait, Ku? Where are you going?” You ask curiously as he sulks

“To finish what you started,” He pouts and you can see that he actually did get too excited

Your jaw drops and you burst out laughing as Kuroo crosses his arms, the tent in his pants prominent

“Well? Are you coming or not?” He stands by the door pouting and you sigh at your baby of a boyfriend

“Yeah yeah,” You wave him off, ignoring the little happy dance he does, both of you missing the shouts of Kenma reminding that, “GUYS THIS THING IS STILL ON!”

[insaneillusionist]

Been thinking about how Hunter has stonesleeper lungs so maybe he’d turn to stone when he was sleeping and how funny that would be. (My attempted dialogue is a mess so maybe just skip this post. I don’t know how people work.) (I’m going to choose to believe that Hunter wasn’t actually unconscious in Hunting Palismen.)

Hunter: *sleeping in his crib*

One of Hunter’s caretakers (I’ve decided that he had four and that they all were reassigned to various areas once he turned 5 because Belos didn’t want there to be people attached to his nephew (they’re all dead now)): Is he dead? Is he petrified? Did Belos do this? No, Belos asked us to babysit him. Do babies usually do this? ARE WE GOING TO GET FIRED?

Other witch: Alexander, get a grip. Belos wouldn’t do that. And no, children don’t do that. He probably just got into a potions cabi...OH MY GOD HE GOT INTO A POTIONS CABINET WE ARE SO FIRED BELOS IS GOING TO KILL US!

Another witch, pointing at Hunter: Um...guys? I think he’s breathing. That’s good, right?

Alexander: Do petrified statues breathe? I don’t spend much time around them but do they? I should check that out. Be back soon! *runs out room*

Other witch: ...And he’s gone. Maia, you were in the potions track, right? You can fix this!

Maia: Storm, I changed tracks in 4th grade. I don’t know how to fix this. That kind of potion would be hard to make though. Like Head of the Potions Coven hard. 

Storm: We’re fired. We’re so fired. How do we explain this? No one knows that he exists! Dear titan I never started on my will and I won’t get a chance to finish it and now my comic collection won’t get the respect it dese-

Hunter: *wakes up and yawns*

Alexander, dragging a statue: I’m back! I looked at the statue but couldn’t tell if it was breathing and wanted you guys to check it out.

Maia and Storm: *Staring at Hunter with wide eyes*

Alexander: I’m going to have to drag this all the way back, aren’t I?

                                                       ---

*Timeskip to when Hunter is 8 and is now unofficially part of the coven but people know he’s protected by Belos*

Hunter: *sleeping on the pedestal of a freshly petrified statue (he sleeps in weird places)*

Patrolling scout: *notices him*

Patrolling scout: Hmm. *Looks at statue and sees Hunter*

Patrolling scout: Crap. Guys? GUYS? I THINK WE ACCIDENTALLY PETRIFIED BLONDIE (he gets a nickname because I said so) WITH THAT WILD WITCH! CAN WE UNPETRIFY PEOPLE? 

                                                       ---

(The coven quickly realizes that he’s great for pranks.)

Coven scouts: *Swapping a bard coven statue with a sleeping Hunter*

Group of bards (one bard speaking): I didn’t know that they were getting this statue replaced. I’m glad they did though. That other one was ugly. 

Hunter: *wakes up*

Bard: HOLY FUCK IT’S ALIVE!

Other bard: Is that a child?

(Hunter learned a new word that day.)

                                                    ---

It also becomes a thing that when a coven scout is acting too high and mighty, the coven will have them watch over a sleeping Hunter.

Coven scout: We have a test to see if you’re actually good at being a scout. Don’t take your eyes off this statue. It’s very dangerous. If it gets out of your sight, it could destroy the entire Isles. If you fail, you might have to redo the tests.

High and Mighty: Pfft. Dude, it’s just a statue. What’s the worst it could do?

*Timeskip to a couple hours later*

High and Mighty: *Takes his eyes off Hunter to watch the latest disaster*

Hunter: *Wakes up and leaves*

High and Mighty: *turns back towards Hunter*

High and Mighty: *instant panic mode*

                                                ---

Hunter is able to sleep standing up (because he’s really sleep deprived) and with his eyes open (coven training and being a Grimwalker). He knows that he’s able to sleep with his eyes open (he doesn’t really need to since he wears a mask) because someone once told him. No one ever tells him about the stone thing though. He takes advantage of this ability to sleep during coven meetings, since everyone always tries to talk over him and ignore him, and because he really doesn’t want to deal with Terra. Unfortunately, everyone knows that he’s sleeping.

Hunter: *falls asleep*

Terra: Did he fall asleep again? *Summons vines to wake him up*

Every other coven head: *Trying to protect Hunter from Terra*

[b0rista]

lmfao i need an answer from the jean,marco, sasha, connie friend group ! 😭😭

does marco have freckles on his dick ? 👉👈💕

maybe a little scenario ? 💕

AHHHAHSHHDHD

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: through a continuance of my headcanon blog prior to this one, the hunt for marco's theorized freckled dick comes to a close.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: okay but the only reason this took me so long to reply to was because i wrote tWo drafts of an actual drabble for this && i hated them both sm so i just ended up writing it out headcanon style for comedic effect 😭😭

also this is TECHNICALLY my first every request so i'm really happy rn, hi 🥺 when i read this i cackled PLEA

gn! reader.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: pretty inappropriate [nsfw]! to keep it short, there are descriptions of three jackasses drawing their friend's dick until they actually get to see it 😭

while it was tiresome, you and your crew (minus marco, who was supposedly at the dentist) had taken it upon yourselves one day to muster up whatever maturity you had left— you would stop pestering marco about your long lived quest to know whether or not his member bore as many freckles as his face. it's been two years, and none of you were going to be seeing it anytime soon.

with that being said, you would take manners into your own hands.

the four of you would work together to draw it.

literally, it took five or six hours of relentless scrapping and sketching until you'd all managed to piece together the final product (connie drew while you, jean, and sasha navigated).

connie's fingers were nearly swollen, and there was literally dozens of crumpled up failures lying about the entire basement floor. i'm talking over twenty-four scrapped dicks with tiny dots on them, sprawled out in random trails on the goddamn carpet.

it was really, really intense

connie was fucking sweating when he dramatically lunged the paper into the spotlight, making you all just revel in its beauty.

"is that the big dipper? on the shaft?"

"marco takes me as the type of guy whose freckles have personality. they tell a story, they're literal fuckin' constellations—"

"my god, it's beautiful."

y'all did,, not expect to see marco that day. so, once you all heard a disgustingly sweet voice echo from above the basement ceiling, it was instant panic mode. surprise surprise, the dentist rescheduled for tuesday, bitches!

eventually, the poor bby made his way downstairs, only to see his friends gawking at a piece of paper from across the room, above a shit ton of crumpled uP pieces of paper scattered along the floor.

"huh? what have you guys been up to?" literally AS he crouches down to pick one of the papers up, "what's with all of this paper?"

yeah, it was a crumpled up outline of his dick, that had his name etched into the top, and was decked out in freckles that were supposedly his

^ that was the face. right there.

"this is—"

"cRe E p Y—"

ten seconds later and you've got his face in your hAnds, he's literally petrified as you vigorously shake him because YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH

"TELLUSTHETRUTHNOW-"

he's scReeChing, jean has to pull you off :((

eventually, all of you are sat down, and the five of you have a heart to heart conversation on how you're all being literal hellspawns, and how it's time to stop with the freckled marco cock crusade. bitterly, you all agree to put an end to it, and marco is relieved.

and with that, he takes the time to go to the bathroom in peace.

the end.

lmao jk, he doesn't lock the door and connie assumes it's empty when he goes bArging in to the suicidal maniac taking a piss

"cONNIE-"

silence.

". . . ahh HhH HHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHH—"

"B I I I I G D I P P E R R R R R"

the story concludes with the four of you celebrating the knowledge of marco's profoundly freckled dick as the poor child falls apArt in the corner and succumbs to immediate despair

[sofreddie]

Altar

Summary: Being captured on a hunt, Sam is magically spelled to take Y/N. He always wanted it, but not like this.

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, Cas

Warnings: NON-CON, dub-con, Smut, unprotected sex, breeding, pregnancy, sex spell, angst, fluff, little more smut

Word Count: 2,887

"Hey guys, I think I found us a case," Sam said, sitting down at the Library table with his laptop. Dean and Y/N groaned as they straightened in their chairs, waiting for Sam to deliver the briefing, "Might be witches."

"Fuckin' hate witches," Dean grumbled, running a hand down his face and standing abruptly, "Be ready to go in ten," he sighed, heading off to his room. Sam nodded, shutting his laptop and following.

Y/N sighed. They just got back from a hunt, literally a few hours before. She desperately wanted a break after back-to-back hunts across several states, keeping them away from the Bunker for over a month.

Hunting alongside the Winchesters was new to her. She had hunted for years, but more as an as-needed, weekend gig. They had happened upon each other when the Winchesters showed up on her werewolf case a year prior.

The three of them worked well together and the case was solved easily and quickly. Afterwards, with celebratory drinks in hand, the brothers had asked her to hunt with them.

Dean would flirt constantly, but it was harmless. It was clear the two of them were more instant friends than lovers of any kind. Sam - well, Sam was a different story. Everything about him screamed man and had Y/N yearning for him in every way.

But working with the Winchesters, getting a chance at the big leagues, living with them in the Bunker - it was all fantastic and she felt like she was truly making a difference.

But she didn't want to jeopardize that by pursuing anything with Sam. So she buried her feelings and hid them expertly, leaving no one the wiser that she felt anything more than comradery for the brothers.

Little did she know that Sam was head-over-heels for her from the moment he watched her roundhouse-kick a werewolf clear across the room. Y/N was a very 'what-you-see-is-what-you-get' kind of girl and Sam couldn't help but want her the more and more he spent time with her. She was everything he never knew he needed.

But with his past with women, he didn't want to risk it. She was special - precious, even - and he didn't want to taint her. Especially when it was clear she had no interest in him. So he allowed himself to be content with their close friendship and pretended it was enough.

Dean was in full panic mode. One second, the three of them were investigating a lead. Next thing, Sam and Y/N had just disappeared. There was no one around, no trace of them anywhere - and no way to find where they might be or who had them.

He cursed as he climbed in the Impala, pulling out his phone and dialing Cas while simultaneously sending out prayers to his Angel friend. He had to find them. He wouldn't let them die like the others. He had to save them.

Sam woke with a headache. He groaned, placing a hand on his forehead to try and ease the ache as he scrambled to his feet. He was in a dark room, the concrete walls around him slightly damp, the smell of decay filling his nostrils.

Before he could fully get his bearings, his head shot towards the sound of metal scraping as the door to his cell opened. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light before several shadowed figures flanked him.

A woman approached through the doorway, her elegance out of place in the dungeon-like surroundings.

"What do you want?" Sam croaked, his voice hoarse and throat sore from disuse. He remembered being on a case with Dean and Y/N.

Where were they?

The woman smirked, raising a hand towards him and uttering a few words. An eerie glow emitted briefly from her hands. Sam felt his body relax as he stood at his full height. He was aware of his surroundings but unable to control his body.

He watched, like a helpless prisoner, from within his own body as he followed the woman obediently, the flunkies she brought with her pulling up the rear.

"Don't worry, Sam," the woman offered a smile that would be considered charming and friendly if it weren't for the circumstances, "I promise you'll enjoy this part."

Another door opened and Sam followed inside once more. The sight before him nearly made his heart stop.

Y/N was naked, laying on a stone altar, surrounded by people in robes, candles and torches providing a warm glow to the room. He tried to scream, tried to rush to her, but his body wouldn't cooperate.

He couldn't stop the woman from placing a hand on his shoulder and chanting. He couldn't stop himself from removing his clothes and walking to the altar. He couldn’t stop the others as they joined the chant, their eyes on him and Y/N as he stood at the end of the altar looking her over.

Her eyes kept his and he could see they were wild, panicked, but her body dutifully lay still on the altar. Whatever was happening, they were both trapped and aware in their minds, unable to control themselves.

Sam sent a prayer out to anyone who could be listening, hoping someone out there wouldn't mind an IOU from a Winchester.

Sam found himself crawling up onto the altar, his cock suddenly hard and throbbing as he looked down at Y/N beneath him. Her hands were bound above her in iron shackles, stretching her out along the stone surface, her entire body laid bare.

His eyes roamed her appreciatively, his hands following the burning trail of his eyes. He tried to focus, tried to break whatever spell was cast upon him.

But his mind was distracted by the soft warmth of her skin, the needy whimpers that fell from her parted lips, the eager squirming of her body under his touch.

The chanting grew louder, like a Gregorian song, as Sam’s body moved of its own accord. He parted her legs, lifting them to either side of his hips, as he slotted himself between her thighs.

As he rutted his length against her, he could feel her wetness, her heat nearly scorching. A groan slipped past his lips and Sam wasn’t sure if that was the spell or him any longer.

He’d always wanted Y/N - fantasized about her more times than he’d care to admit. Seeing her like this was somehow both a dream come true and a living nightmare - not like this.

As the chanting grew louder, all Sam could see was Y/N. Without warning, he slid his length inside of her in one mighty thrust, the force pushing her up along the altar. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her body down against him as he continued thrusting.

Her wails were a mix of anguish and pleasure and his cock twitched in response. It was over quickly, Sam’s body shuddering violently as he came hard, filling her with his seed until it leaked out around his cock, soiling the stone beneath them.

He was denied even the chance to enjoy the high as his body crawled back off of her, standing at the end of the altar and facing the robed figures in silence once more.

The elegant woman approached Y/N and placed a hand on her lower belly, her eyes fluttering shut as she muttered something under her breath.

“It is done,” she announced, turning to a smaller table by the altar and grabbing a goblet in which she mixed several ingredients, including her own blood. She raised the goblet in the air as she spoke to the congregation,

“To our Lord Chemosh!” she announced, holding the goblet high as she turned back to Y/N, “You will be the mother of a God,” the woman whispered, before starting her chanting once more, the goblet held tightly in her hands as the others in the room joined her chanting.

Sam’s muscles tensed in his whole body as he fought to break through whatever hold they had on him.

A slam of the door on the far end of the room revealed Dean and Cas, weapons at the ready. Their eyes scanned over Y/N and Sam with shock and worry and Sam screamed for his brother in his mind, but his body held still.

As Dean pierced the heart of the elegant woman - the last of the cult around them - Sam’s body fell in a heap to the floor, his world going dark.

Sam groaned as he came to, his head pounding once more. In a flash, his mind flooded with memories - of the cult, of the spell, of Y/N. He gasped, sitting upright and realizing he was in his bed at the Bunker. He sighed, wondering if it was all some bizarre dream.

He forced himself from bed, trying to shake the thoughts of the dream from his mind, and made his way down the hall. He followed the sounds of voices to the Library, finding Dean and Cas pausing awkwardly mid-conversation as he came into their view.

“You’re up,” Dean smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “How you feelin’?”

Sam lowered himself into one of the chairs, still trying to clear his foggy mind, “My head hurts,” he grumbled, brushing his hair back from his face.

“That would be the remnants of the spell,” Cas offered with a sympathetic smile.

“The spell?” Sam’s mind flitted back to his dream and his wide eyes shot to Dean, “I-it was real?”

Dean sighed, dropping his head and nodding, “Yeah. Turns out the coven we were after was actually a cult, trying to resurrect their dead God.”

“Y/N,” Sam breathed out, barely audible to his own ears as his pulse throbbed in his temples.

“She’s fine,” Dean said quickly, “She’s resting in her room.”

“B-but the spell…the altar-”

“She’s fine,” Dean insisted, placing a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“B-but we - I -”

“We stopped the spell before they could conjure Chemosh,” Dean stated, sharing a glance with Cas before turning back to Sam, “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.”

“She…she’s okay though? I mean, what happened…what I did-”

“She’s safe and healthy,” Cas confirmed, “They both are.”

Sam looked up in confusion in time to see Dean flash a threatening glare at Cas who merely shrugged in response, “He deserves to know.”

“She’s….I…” Sam felt the panic rise like bile in the back of his throat, “She’s pregnant?”

Sam watched as his brother and friend nodded their confirmation and his heart shattered. Before all of this, he wanted her. Not just in his bed, but in his life. He wanted a life with her.

But he had convinced himself that being with him would get her killed or worse, so he refused to let either of them cross that line, no matter how much they wanted it.

Now, however, in the wake of a spell - a goddamned spell - all of that came crashing down. She probably wouldn’t be able to look at him without reliving what happened, what he had done to her.

If only I fought harder.

If only I was strong enough to resist the spell.

“You two need to talk,” Dean stated firmly and Sam immediately shook his head, “Sam, listen to me, alright?” he waited until Sam’s red-rimmed eyes met his and Dean could see how hurt and broken he was, “I know you probably want to avoid each other like the plague after what happened. But you need to talk, figure out what you want to do about this.”

Sam shook his head once more - partly to deny Dean’s insistence, and partly because he wasn’t sure he could make a hard decision when it came to…this.

Sam rose from his seat, still shaking his head. Dean tried to reach out to him once more, but Sam backed away, a stray tear streamed down his face, before he rushed back to his room, locking the door behind him.

As soon as he was alone, his back slid down the door and he rested on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest as he sobbed, thinking every hope he had now died.

Three days later, Sam found himself standing in the Bunker hallway, his back braced against the opposite wall from Y/N’s bedroom door. It was late - sometime during the middle of the night - and everyone had gone to bed.

Dean came to him earlier that day, worried over Y/N. Much like him, she had been locked away in her solitude, not eating, barely sleeping. Dean had tried to take care of her, tried to get her to take care of herself, but nothing he did helped.

Sam, too, was ready to brush it aside, if it weren’t from the reminder from Dean that she was pregnant. With his child. Ready for it or not, Sam had a responsibility, to her and their child.

With a heavy breath, he forced himself from the wall, shuffling the few feet across the way to stand directly in front of her door. Before he could talk himself out of it, he raised a hand, knocking several times. Her whispered and broken voice echoed from the other side as she beckoned him inside.

Sam opened the door, slinking in quietly and shutting it behind him. He lifted his gaze, seeing her propped against the headboard of her bed, her knees tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.

“Sam,” she whispered and he could see the shock on her face, “What are you-”

“You’re not eating,” Sam’s voice was gentle and hesitant as he looked at her with worry. She scoffed, turning her head to stare at the opposite wall, avoiding him. Sam licked his lips and took a few hesitant steps closer to the bed, looking down at her, “Y/N,” he pleaded.

“You should go,” she said sternly.

“Y/N,” Sam tried once more, sitting on the edge of her bed and reaching towards her. She shot off the bed in a huff, staring at him from across the room.

“Sam,” she sighed, “Look, I’m not mad at you, okay? I know this wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t my fault. But what happened,” she shook her head, taking another breath.

“I know,” Sam stood, swiping his hair back from his face, “But it did happen, Y/N,” he pressed, approaching her once more, “A-and now…” his eyes flitted to her stomach and his heart ached. Ached for what had happened, and ached to comfort her and have her in his arms.

“What am I supposed to do?” she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, looking defeated and broken and Sam felt his own eyes well with tears.

“We,” Sam said, rushing to stand before her, his hands grazing her elbows as he yearned to just touch her, “We can do whatever you want. But for what it’s worth,” he added with a soft smile as he lifted her chin to meet his gaze, “I want this. Definitely not the way it happened and I can’t change that. But, Y/N,” he licked his lips, noting he now had her undivided attention. It was now or never, “I’ve thought about this, about us, about a life together so much and I know you have too.”

“I thought you would have wanted to forget,” she admitted, her voice weak and body trembling slightly under his touch.

He smiled once more, crowding into her until their chests nearly touched, his gentle grazes on her arms more prominent, “I could never forget,” he insisted as his hands began ghosting over her arms and shoulders with teasing grazes, “How soft and smooth your skin is. The sounds you made. The look in your eyes. How wet and hot-”

“Sam,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering as his fingers trailed up her neck before he cupped her cheek.

“Let me show you,” he breathed out, his breath fanning over her neck teasingly, “How it should have been,” he pulled back to meet her eyes, “How I wanted it to be.”

At her approving nod, Sam was quick to get them both undressed, kissing her passionately the whole time. Once he had her bare and on the bed, he slowed down, taking his time to kiss and taste and tease every inch of her skin from her neck to chest to hips and thighs.

He had her coming on his tongue before he scissored her open, relishing the sounds she made as she came for him once more. Finally, he entered her, slow and smooth until he had no more to give. They both let out long, contended sighs at being connected.

Sam cupped her face in his hands, capturing her lips as he rocked within her, barely leaving her warmth before pushing back in again and again. He slowly worked them to climax, the two of them desperately clinging and grinding as they climbed the high together, finally tumbling off into bliss.

Settling in on their sides under the covers, they wrapped up in each other, kissing lazily as they came down from their highs. The future was scary and uncertain, but they knew they could face it together.

[redhawtriot]

Caught in The Act (Bakugou x Reader x Todoroki)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Thanks so much to all of you who have followed this story! I remember that I started this series this month to celebrate my first 100 followers, but now I am up to 1000 of y’all? The fuck?

You guys are so supportive! I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to share my art with! Again, thank you so much!

HnM💕

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Finale:

She did not just call you crazy. And a bitch.

Fae’s eyes wildly flashed between you and her sister, “C-crazy bitch? I—"

“FIRST OF ALL, who the HELL do you think--” you cut yourself off before gently inhaling a pocket of air. You were sounding way too much like a certain explosive disgrace for your liking. You closed your eyes as you breathed out all of your frustrations.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on?!” Fae protectively shifted to fill the space between you and her little sister, “Farrah, there must be a mistake. This is my roommate, Y/N.”

Farrah.

A pretty name forever ruined by a slut.  

God, you wanted to beat her ass more than anything. It was as if all of your nerves were on fire and screaming a you to just do something.

Was this what Katsuki constantly felt like?

The violent beating of your eardrums was deafening and your vision was beginning to blur as you scowled at Fae’s sister.

Everything in your being yearned for you to switch to “instant kill mode”, but you couldn’t physically move. It was as if a small piece of you held your fury under control like a rabid dog on a chain-- or a parliament of higher beings had voted for you to keep your cool.

You sucked in one more time as your heart began to slow down. You gave one last, gentle huff as you continued to glare.

Farrah sent a scowl of her own back at you, “She is the one who—”

“This is the trash that slept with my boyfriend,” you deadpanned very flatly as your eyes slightly narrowed at her.  Fae’s jaw fell immediately at your words, but you continued talking despite her shock, “I just don’t see how she, of all people, could be upset in the situation. If you're upset at all, it should be at yourself. You have no class or self-worth, sleeping with an engaged man,” you crossed your arms as you reprimanded her and dared her to say something else as you intensified your stare.

You felt your heart jump as she stepped forward towards you, past Fae. It was as if it were excited by the idea that she may attack you so that you thoroughly beating the snot out of her would be justified.

Shit. What was wrong with you.

You kicked the persistent, animal-like thoughts off your leg as you continued to eye Farrah.

“You’re psychotic!!” she gasped as she threw her hands up, “I totally didn’t know Ground Zero even had a girl! psycho ass!”

Bull shit. You and Bakugou had both been plastered everywhere since your first sports festival at U.A. when you were fifteen. Since then you had both been in the eye of the media. It was pretty common knowledge that he wasn’t single. Your face scrunched up in disgust at her blatant lies as she continued, “She kicked me out of the apartment with nothing but my bare ass!!!”

“Yeah, you left your cheap ass, ratty ass clothes and your dignity that night too,” you rolled your eyes as the words flew out of your mouth.

“Woah, woah, woah! Calm down, everybody,” Fae looked as if she was on the brink of crying, “Farrah, I think you should leave for now, Okay?” She fiddled with her fingers.

“Yeah, I think so too.” As you pettily used your dancing fingers to wave, astonishment flashed across Fae’s expression. Honestly if your heart wasn’t thrumming against your chest so crazily right now, you would be horrified at how you were acting too, but the adrenaline that coursed throughout your body at the sight of the whore in the room numbed your mind.

Farrah struggled against her older sister as she tried to lead her away from the would-be battlefield, “No!! She is the one that needs to leave. You’re the one who pays rent around here, Sis!”

“Farrah, stop it!” Fae pleaded.

“WHY??” Farrah blurted before throwing a finger in your direction, “Newsflash, she is the one who is stealing your man from you now!” her voice raised an octave as she screeched, “Talk about hypocritical!” All of the color drained from Fae’s face as she threw horrified glances between you and her sister. Her mouth stumbled over itself as she tried to find words.

Your eyebrows congregated to the middle of your forehead as you tried to decipher the meaning of Farrah’s words.

Todoroki? Is that Fae’s man?

As if on cue, the front door to the house casually slid open, revealing a tired Todoroki.

All of the chaos that had been ensuing inside immediately halted as Todoroki froze in the doorway. His eyes snapped around as he saw the loose papers from Fae’s books that you hadn’t even noticed that you had thrown around with your quirk in your frustration, your completely furious expression and defensive stance, and Fae’s horrified form struggling to hold onto her crazed sister.

It was a lot to interpret.

“What… is going on,” he calmly questioned before he was assaulted with a boom of feminine screams.

“TELL HER TO LEAVE!”

“NO, TELL HER TO LEAVE! SHE DOESN’T EVEN LIVE HERE.”

“FARRAH, STOP!”

“NEITHER DO YOU, WHORE.”

Todoroki blinked in shock at the words that flew out of your mouth. He had never heard you used such a tone or choice of words with anyone—not even when you were against villains at U.A.. He hated to see you so upset, but he had no idea what to do with all of these women yelling at him, “Uh, Y/N...? Should we talk?” He questioned, causing Farrah to roll her eyes before she mouthed the word “see?” To her sister.

You huffed once more as you stormed towards the man, “Okay...” You begrudgingly agreed as you walked outside of the door, not even bothering to look him in the face. You couldn’t bring yourself to. Something just didn’t sit right with you.

As soon as he shut the front door behind him and walked down to the driveway a bit to meet up with where you had stormed off to, you threw a curve-ball at him,

“Just what is Fae to you?”

The question completely caught him off guard, but he immediately answered anyway, “Our roommate?”

“Obviously. But like. Did you and her… ever you know…” the thought alone made you feel queasy, “have something romantic.” You could have thrown up right then and there.

But his lack of reply made you feel a different type of sick. You blinked in surprise as the silence ensued before you spoke up, “You’re kidding,” you blurted.

“It’s not at all what you are thinking. There was chemistry for sure, but nothing ever happened. It wasn’t strong like you and I. When you came back there was no doubt in my mind that me and her were nothing.”

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” you threw pinched fingers to the brige of your nose and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, “Jesus, that poor girl.” So you really were just as much of a homewrecker, huh?

You thought there was one whore in that house but there were two.

“Fae is fine,” Todoroki moved to place a hand on your shoulder but you shifted away. He looked a bit shocked as he continued, “She had been dating here and there. She’s unaffected by the situation,” he calmly argued.

“God, Todoroki. That’s not the point,” you searched around your jacket pocket for your car keys. You had to get out of here. Even if you were in your house shoes.

“Im sorry, did I do something? Where are you going?” Todoroki’s calm demeanor slightly cracked as panicked undertones filled his question.

“I need to think,” you simply replied. Upon seeing his worried expression you immediately changed your answer, “I’ll… be back, okay? I just need a drive. We are still cool, okay? Friends,” you tried to sound enthused at the word.

“Okay… be safe.”

You slightly nodded at him before getting in your car and driving off.

You couldn’t believe it. You were slowly becoming everything that split you an Katsuki apart.

Your phone violently vibrating against your leg sent you flying out of your thoughts. Jesus, Kiri. He always called when you were trying to drive your frustration away—literally.

You groaned as you answered the phone.

“Hey!” His chipper voice had a slight undertone of panic to it, but your frustrated mind completely ignored it,

“What,” you deadpanned.

“Oh god, this isn’t a good time is it…?” he nervously laughed, causing your face to instantly shrivel up into a scowl,

“Just tell me what the fuck you want, Kirishima!” you blurted. A long silence filled the line, causing you to breath out heavily in a deep sigh. Way to go.

It was as if you were taking notes straight out of Katsuki’s book today. You just cursed at the sweetest guy on the planet. I mean, you might as well have just stomped on a puppy with both feet, “Look. I am sorry. I didn’t mean that... it’s just a long day…”

A pathetic excuse really. You realized this as soon as it came out of your mouth.

Kiri, being the happy souled fool he was, wholeheartedly accepted your pathetic excuse, “Maybe I should call back then...?” he suggested kindly.

“No, its okay, Kiri. What’s up?” you tried to smile as if he could see you—as if this gentle gesture would make up for how much of a colossal bitch you had just been.

“Well...” he dragged,  “Don’t you think maybe that it is about time you picked up your things from our apartment?”

You sighed, “…it’s really not a good time for me. I just..”

“WE CAUGHT THE HOUSE ON FIRE,” he cried out suddenly.

You held the phone closer to your ear as if you hadn’t heard him correctly, “Um. W-hwhat…?”

As soon as you spoke it triggered a tangent from the redhead, “Bakugou was really mad because he found out about you and Todoroki a few hours ago and he came home and wanted to vent his frustrations out, and we both know what that means, so we got to fighting and I punched him really hard, totally not manly of me by the way, and I pissed him off and then he exploded me and we set the house on fire!” he gasped for air, “I am so sorry!!” he exclaimed in a higher tone.

Your mind spun as you tried to take in all of the information that was being thrown at you at once. Finally it settled into your brain, “Oh my god!” you gasped, “Is he… is Katsuki okay?!”

“Yeah he is fine. He’s is in the hospital,” he brushed off.

“What!?! Where?!”

He quickly corrected himself at the sound of your heartbroken voice, “No, no! Not like that!” For some reason the concern in your voice for Bakugou made him happy, “He just needed a few little burn treatments! Anyway, we will probably be released tomorrow morning or night from the hospital, but—”

“We?!” you screeched.

“Yeah, I—”

“Kiri please tell me you did not just call me from a hospital bed,” you shook your head furiously.

“I just wanted to tell you that you should go pick up your things while Bakugou isn’t there, well what’s left of it anyway,” he gave an uneasy chuckle.

“Isn’t it still hot?”

“One of the firefighters had a cold quirk so everything turned out okay after they showed up. No other apartments were affected at all actually!” You still couldn’t believe this was all happening. You honestly hadn’t planned on grabbing your things from the apartment so soon. Then again, it had been months hadn’t it?

“So, are you going?” Kirishima snapped you back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll head over there right now,” you absentmindedly nodded even though he couldn’t see you. You hung up the phone after the two of you had spoken your farewells, but you could hardly remember the rest of the drive as you stood in front of your old home.

Your mind felt entirely numb as you gawked at the tall, polished building.

The crime scene—where the dreams that you had been building since you were fifteen years old came to die a gruesome death. You swiftly ducked under the fitting yellow tape as you made your way into the scorched portion of the home—your old room.

It was pretty much the only area that had been affected by the disaster as the rest of the home basically look exactly as you had remembered it to be—well minus the manly mess that Kiri tended to leave behind. You assumed Katsuki had been more strict on house rules since you left.

You walked up to what was left of your grandmother’s dresser and traced your fingers along the crumbling edges of the wood. You ended your trail as your fingers found their way onto an old frame. You couldn’t tell if picture was okay since a film of ash painted the fractured glass, but the frame seemed fine, as it resided in an area that hadn’t been touched by the inferno.

So then why was the glass cracked?

That’s when it hit you—it must have been the object that you had thrown at Farrah that night. You remembered that you threw something at her that shattered, but you never bothered to find out what.

Why the hell didn’t Katsuki fix it?

You curiously, but cautiously wiped the glass with the edge of your shirt.

What was revealed was the first picture the you and Bakugou had ever taken together. He was tied to a pole with a muzzle on at the U.A. sports festival award ceremony your freshman year. You had been standing next to him as he stood on the first-place podium on your very own third pace spot.

The memory quickly flooded into your mind.

That day when you fought him was the first time that he had ever acknowledged you. He actually congratulated you in his own way you supposed. He told you that you put up a really good fight. You couldn’t help but to shake your head at the recollection as a smile dared to pull the corner of your lips up.

“Y/N?” A loud, rough voice caused you to jump suddenly before you whipped yourself around. What you saw surprised you,

Katsuki? But he’s not even supposed to be here! Especially with bloodied bandages placed throughout his scratched up body!!

He looked just as surprised as you, “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed.

“That’s my line, you ass! I thought you were in the hospital!” you cried out as you hurriedly dropped the frame into a bag you had been using to gather some of your things.

“I’m fine,” he quickly readjusted his face from the previously shocked expression, “They’re crazy if they thought I was gonna stay overnight.”

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you shook your head in disappointment.

“What?!” he barked.

You simply continued to shake your head as you attempted to rush past him, “Nothing. I’m leaving.”

“Wait! Don’t,” he suddenly reached out to grab you but you harshly shrugged him away before sending a glare at him,

“Why? Have something to say?” Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t reached out to you in all of this time. Not since the day everything went down. But then again, he hardly talked with you when you lived together, so why would he even bother speaking to you after you broke up.

Still, a piece of you yearned for him to care about you enough to speak up as you searched his eyes for an ounce of affection. You saw none—just hurt and a splash of his usual flavor of rage.  

“That’s what I thought,” your voice surprisingly croaked as you spoke. You turned away from him and began to walkaway, halting as he called out to you once more,

“You and Icyhot? REALLY?” he roared behind you, “I bet you were just waiting on me to fuck up so you’d have an excuse to crawl back to him, weren’t you?”

You whipped yourself back to furiously scowl at him. Of course that’s the first thing he wants to talk about after all this time, “You have zero right to judge me for moving on quickly even if I was fucking him!”

“So you’re not?!” he didn’t sound very convinced as he stormed up to you.

“Bakugou, that’s none of your business!” you didn’t back away as you challenge him. He hated it when you used his last name, “So what if I am?!” you exclaimed as tears pricked the backs of your eyes.

“I gave you a damned ring—we were getting married next fucking month!!” as his voice cracked your eyes were drawn to his arms that he intensely held on either side of him. His hands were quietly quivering in rage as he continued, “Of course it’s my fucking business!”

You snapped back regardless of his dangerously pissed off state. He is still trying to defend himself like he did nothing wrong after all this fucking time, “I gave you my ENTIRE being Katsuki!! I gave you my trust and my whole heart and everything else I could muster up and more!!!” You screamed at the top of your voice. Tears freely rolled down your tired cheeks at this point,

“So fucking what if you gave me a hunk of metal with a few gems?! What else did you give me? Huh?! What else did you offer up to me? Affection? Consideration? Loyalty??” your voice heavily cracked on the last word as you stared at the seemingly unphased man in front of you.

He held a glare as if it were permanently plastered onto his expression, yet he didn’t say anything in return, so you continued speaking after shakily gathering up a spare breath,  “God, I still think about you in practically everything that I do…” you cried as you pathetically stared at the ground in front of you. Bakugou’s fierce red eyes continued to burn holes into your image as you spoke,

“…but you probably only care that some other man is stomping around on your territory. You haven’t even reached out to me past the initial weekend when shit hit the fan,” you looked back up to see him still glaring at you intensely. You couldn’t tell if he was judging you or if he hated you. Probably a mix of the two.

What a condescending asshole.

“What?! Stop fucking looking at me! Say something dammit!” you pushed him away from you and was surprised by how good it felt, “Anything!!” you pleaded as you pushed him back again towards the living room.

He still said nothing as he threw his glare away from you and toward the ground. You groaned in annoyance before shoving him back again. Why was he always so damn quiet when you actually wanted him to speak up?

“Fight me back, dammit!” you didn’t even care that you sounded like him anymore. Maybe it’s what he wanted from you the entire time as his mastermind meticulously chipped away at the persona that you had been building all of your life. Well, if it’s what he wanted, you would be more than happy to oblige in this case, “You like to pick fights don’t you?!” you screamed as you used your entire body and shoved him once last time, actually tripping him.

The two of you fell and you toppled on top of him as your tears transformed into sobs, “Just do something, you grimy ass bastard! I know you want to!” you weakly pounded against his chest as sobs continued to tear themselves from your throat.

Bakugou truthfully had no words to speak as he watched your heartbroken form collapse on his chest.

He wanted so desperately to say something.

He wanted to tell you everything that he was feeling, and more than anything he wanted to hold you close to him and comfort you.

But it was as If something in the fibers of his being stopped him from doing so as you laid broken on top of him.

It had always been that way with you.

Every time he had opened his mouth to say something affectionate to you, something vile and downright disrespectful would fly out instead. Every time he wanted to reach out to you and touch you gently, all of the wrong muscles spasmed and he would do something completely erroneous.

It had been easier to neglect you at the time, rather than face you and hurt you, or fix himself even. But it was beyond fixing himself now.

Even so, he wanted to show you at least once that he was capable of doing something fucking right.

He owed you at least that.

He closed his eyes and he sharply grabbed your face and pressed it down onto his own as gently as he could. His hands were still shaking, not from anger as you had assumed, but from fear. He was terrified that you would completely abandon him without ever knowing how much he cared about you.

You whimpered into his mouth out of pure surprise as he continued to move his lips against your own, but you almost instantaneously settled down against him as relief surged throughout your body.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your being.

You found yourself kissing him back for only a moment more before you yanked yourself away from him, “No… no, no Katsuki….” You softly cried with wide eyes as you scooted away from him, “What are we doing!?”

“I know it’s over,” he said very flatly, “Between us, I mean.”

The sentence unexpectedly sent your heart falling deeply into your chest, “Wha—”

“Just shut up a moment and listen to me,” he interrupted you sharply. A thick silence enveloped the two of you for a beat as he seemed to internally kick himself for his harsh wording before he awkwardly shifted himself to sit next to you. His arms struggled to find their way around you as he lamely gathered you into his arms and pulled you close to him, “Just…. don’t look at me,” he grumbled, “I won’t be able to say the shit that I mean if you look.”

You couldn’t even find the time question what he had meant as he quickly continued,

“You... are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I didn’t always act like it, but it’s true, dammit. I know that I couldn’t show it to you. It’s like my mind and my body were split on what to do. I wanted to hold you like this every night, but my body just wouldn’t let me… It’s just so damn confusing,” he finished with a croak.

He shook his head at himself before continuing, “I should have fucking done it anyway. I should have woken up early to make you breakfast more than just the once. I should have worked less so you wouldn’t have to spend days without me. I should have given you that ring sooner. I never should have slept with that woman. Drunk or not—but that goes without saying. I am so sorry, Y/N. You did not deserve this.”

You couldn’t help but to look up at him, but your heart broke as you saw heavy tears falling from his eyes.

He could feel your eyes on him but he found the resolve to continue regardless, “Anyway, I know it’s over now. I can feel it. What we had is over,” he fought himself from sobbing, “I’ll never see that ring on you again, and I don’t deserve to either. I didn’t deserve a lot of things I got growing up, but I definitely didn’t deserve you,” he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, “I don’t think I can change who I am to be what you need me to be. You deserve more than what I can give you right now. And....” he tried to pull the words out of himself, “if Half n’ Half can do it, then I should let you go that way.”

He sighed. You weren’t sure if you had ever heard him sigh before. It shocked you as he continued, “I used to think you were keeping me from winning, and I was stupid to think that,” he rested his head on top of yours, “I’m just dragging you down onto my level at this point,” he shook his head, “but I won’t let that shit happen,” he finally dropped his face to look you in the eyes, “I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered to you before pressing a painful kiss onto your forehead.

Was this even the same man you had known for almost half of your life?

“I-I love you too. I really do,” you stuttered as astonishment enveloped your body. The two of you sat in a bittersweet silence for a few moments before his gruff, substantially more put together voiced sounded once more,

“As much I hate to say this,” he lowly began as he moved you over and stood up, “you should go,” he held a hand to you to help you up.

Your hand faltered toward his own before you reluctantly accepted his gesture, doubts filling you mind. Bakugou, ever perceptive, noticed your reluctance and immediately cleared the air as he opened the front door for you,

“If Mismatch ever treats you half as bad as I did, I will set him on fire,” he lowly stated. The Bakugou you grew up with suddenly reappeared.

“He has a fire quirk… I don’t think that will work,” you tried to joke, but honestly your heart was hurting so much.

“Fucking watch me,” he smiled at you.

Genuinely smiled.

Your heart melted at the rare scene in front of you and your weak legs could barely make it out of the door.

After moments of staring at each other, you returned a small, sad smile at him before you walked out of the apartment and shut the door behind you.

What... just happened? You turned back around to face the door and placed your hand on the knob. You let it sit for a moment before you slowly retracted it, cursing under your breath.

On the other side, Bakugou knew that he had made the correct decision letting you go to Todoroki, but the pain in his heart begged him to follow after you.

However, the doubts and reluctance to do so further solidified his decision. He wasn’t ready to be the man you needed. Yet.

He had a lot of maturing to do before he could truly love his soulmate.

Soulmate.

The thought sent flutters into his worn down heart.

A reminder of the faith that he had that you two would find your way back to each other one day.

[kirah69]

Or Stiles and/or Peter have a really bad bout of dysphoria. If not triggering for you ❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍

Yes! Thank you!

So here it is. For the Full Moon Ficlet Prompt DISCONNECTED & for the @transbingo​: Vampires.

Dysphoria: It's a term for the anguish and distress a person experiences as a result of a disconnect between their gender identity — who they feel they are — and the gender a doctor assigned them at birth.

Laura Beltrán Villamizar

Title: Fucking Vampires

Pairing: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Summary: A fucking vampire turns Stiles and sends to hell all the effort he had made with his transition.

Warnings: Trans male Stiles, Vampires, Forced detransition, Angst, Strong body disphoria

Chapters: 1/?

[AO3 link]

Chapter 1

Stiles woke up in a fucking abandoned warehouse, again. Why couldn't he wake up for once in the bed of an attractive stranger? Oh yeah, for that he would have to socialize. He hadn't even been caught drunk on the way home from a party, at least then he'd have an excuse. Someone (or something) had caught him back from the library late at night. He didn't even remember how it happened, just he was on the street and now he was- oh wait, it wasn't a warehouse.

That in the background was the noise of the subway and behind him was an old subway car. Everything looked gray under the few remaining lights on the ceiling (which were brighter than he'd expect), maybe it was just covered in dust. The air seemed stagnant, and he could smell decomposing bodies. It must have been an abandoned station and by the boxes, the makeshift tents with old fabrics, the gasoline drums turned into bonfires and so on, homeless people lived there. He was probably sitting on the bed of one of them. Where were they? There was not a soul around him, not even rats.

Stiles felt his head for any injuries (the bad guys had a habit of hitting him on the head to knock him unconscious) and there was some dried blood, but no wound, it didn't even hurt. He looked down to see if there were any other injuries and-.

His heart stopped. He lost his breath. His mind went blank for an instant, and then he was filled with sheer panic and terror.

It can't be, it can't be, no no no nononononono, not again, how, no, why, it can't be, not again, please, please, why, how, this can't-, nono nonononono...

He couldn't know how long he was like this until his mind settled down, just long enough to form rational thoughts. Everything had returned. Someone... something had kidnapped him and had... had... Oh god, fuck, something, somehow, had made his body return to... its original form. He had tried so hard to get rid of all that and now... now they were back. His breasts. And inside of him... he was pretty sure his ovaries and uterus had returned as well. He brought a shaking hand to his groin and... shit, his clit had returned to its original size as well. He was terrified of looking in a mirror or talking; he didn't want to hear himself, he didn't want to see his face again with feminine features.

Eight fucking years of hormone therapy and operations gone to waste! Who the hell had done that and how? And how come he still hadn't passed out from the panic attack? His chest... didn't ache. It should, and he should be out of breath and blacked out, but it was as if he didn't need to breathe even though his lungs continued to inflate and deflate.

He stopped thinking about it when he felt another presence nearby. “Feel” was the right word because he didn't hear it or see it until it was in front of him. It was a tall man with long blond hair in a ponytail, intense green eyes and extremely pale skin. He was dressed in black from top to bottom with a knee-length leather coat. Was it a requirement for sinister villains?

“How are you feeling?” asked Stranger with a French accent. Oh wait, he had read this.

“Are you a fucking vampire?”

There was a shocked expression on his face followed by a smile that showed too many teeth.

“I knew I had caught a smart one. My nam-.”

“What have you done to my body? Why did you do this to me?”

“Um... Well... I admit I didn't expect it.” He seemed to be trying to smile, but he grimaced instead. “It's the first time I've turned... well, someone like you. I didn't even know you were a woman.”

“I'm not a woman!” he hissed through his teeth.

“I mean, I knew that the transformation regenerates mutilated limbs, missing organs...” he explained with wide gestures of his hands, “but I didn't even know you were an operated girl.”

“Man! I. Am. A. Man!” he screamed and flinched at the sound of his high-pitched voice.

“Um... Look... I'm very sorry about this, but I have to say that you look very pretty like that.”

Stiles saw red. Something reacted within him, like the snap of a whip, and just as quickly he launched himself at the creature. He didn't think about it, he didn't consciously do it. It was as if the beast mode switch had been flipped and his humanity had stepped aside. He felt everything, he acted with all the precision that his new abilities allowed him, but he did not control it.

When his prey stopped moving in his hands, he came back to his senses. He first noticed the blood in his mouth, a taste that should have been disgusting, but he just swallowed. His hands were covered in the same blood and his clothes too. He had practically bled that pig out, appropriate. He had a broken arm, but he could already feel it regenerating. The vampire's body was at his feet. Or part of it. A pair of limbs were scattered around him, and his head had ended up on top of the subway car.

He let out a shaky breath and staggered backward until he tripped over some box and fell to the ground. His mind returned to his situation and he stopped breathing. Not that he needed it anymore. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but it slipped between his blood-soaked hands. He tried to catch it a couple more times, but ended up giving up. He left it on the ground and dialed the number. It was a miracle that there was signal there, and he attributed the first tears to the relief it made him feel. He lay down next to him with his knees and arms curled, making himself as small as he could, and waited as the tones sounded.

“Hello, Stiles.”

He heard Peter's cheerful voice, and a sob escaped him.

“Stiles, what's wrong?” His voice quickly turned concerned.

“Peter.” Shit, why did his voice have to sound like this?

“Stiles?” He sounded confused, perhaps because he didn't recognize his voice.

What could he say? How could he explain all that? He didn't want to say it out loud, he didn't want to hear himself in that voice talking about his worst nightmare. He sobbed again, his chest contracting in a strange way because he didn't need to breathe, but he was trying and surely it was necessary to speak.

“Stiles, listen to me, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me where you are.”

That made him give a nervous laugh, and he seemed to be able to control his diaphragm again.

“An abandoned subway station.”

“Can you go to a public place? Can you get help?” he asked calmly, though his voice was full of concern.

“Um... I can... Wait, what time...” He turned his head to see the screen. 3:29 pm. “No, I can't go out. Peter...”

“Don't worry, I'm on my way.” It was true, he could hear the car's engine. “If you can, don't turn off your phone, I have located you. Are you safe? Do you have danger nearby?”

“No, I'm alone.” He felt a great relief knowing that Peter was on his way. He was going to take hours, he had to get there from Beacon Hills, but Stiles knew he would speed up as much as he could to get there as soon as possible.

“Okay. Are you hurt?”

Stiles began to cry louder. No, technically he wasn't hurt, it was even worse.

“Stiles, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“N-no, no. Peter...” he said with a whine.

“I'm on my way, hold on. Hide if you can. You'd have to hang up or the battery-.”

“No! Peter, please...” The idea of staying there alone without even Peter's voice terrified him.

“It's okay, I'm here. Can you tell me what happened?”

He knew Peter just wanted to distract him so that time would pass faster, although for him it was enough to hear his heartbeat on the other end of the phone (it was strange and at the same time comforting that he could hear it).

“I was coming back from the library last night. God, I don't know how I could have been unconscious for so long. I woke up here a few minutes ago and this...” he gave a humorless laugh at how ridiculous it was,” this vampire appeared. A fucking vampire, Peter! Why did it have to be a vampire? If it had been... anything else.”

Anything, even if its only intention had been to kill him. That would have been better than what had happened.

“Well, now we can be a cliché.”

Stiles wanted to laugh, but the sound that came out of his mouth sounded more like a groan. Then his cell phone started beeping.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

He leaned over the phone, there was only five percent battery.

“Stiles, you have to hang up. I promise I'll be there soon, but you have to hang up and keep your phone nearby in case you move. I have your GPS signal located, I don't want to lose it.”

Stiles wasn't going to ask how he had located his phone, Peter was up to date with technology. At that moment he was only grateful for it because the truth was that he had no idea where that station was.

“Okay. Don't let the police arrest you.”

“They couldn't reach my car even if they tried. Although maybe you should be listening for police sirens.”

He hung up the phone reluctantly and brought it close to his body, it was his only connection with Peter. Maybe he should feel bad about not calling his father. He could have arrived quickly with the siren without risking a chase, but the truth was that Stiles didn't know if he would come, he didn't know if he would pick up the phone or if he would believe him when he explained the situation or even if he would consider it important enough to travel from Beacon Hills. In short, he couldn't trust his father to help him. He had been aware of it for a long time, but at times like this it was particularly painful.

He could have called Derek, he also lived in Los Angeles, but most likely he wouldn't even pick up the phone and besides, Derek had no idea of his situation and it would be very awkward to explain. Lydia lived in New York, they barely kept in touch in recent years; and it would be futile to try to contact Scott now that he was on the run in Canada with his latest romance, a hunter whose family weren't too happy about her dating a werewolf. (Stiles was not at all surprised that history repeated itself.)

However, he had no doubt that Peter would come, even if he had to cross the country to do so. He was the last werewolf in Beacon Hills and the one in charge of protecting the town since Scott had abandoned his duties as alpha of the territory. After Scott's departure, Peter had sent the few werewolves of his abandoned pack out to other packs to take care of them while he stayed there alone. Peter was an omega, but he was far more capable of keeping the people of Beacon Hills safe than Scott and his entire pack had been. Stiles had kept in touch with him while he was studying in Los Angeles. At first it had been to keep up with the threats against Beacon Hills, but everything had settled down in a few months and they had still kept in touch.

Peter didn't know about his situation either, but Stiles felt that he would understand it much better than Derek. Although if Peter told him like that asshole that he was fine like this, Stiles was not responsible for his actions.

Maybe he fell asleep at some point or got too distracted because suddenly a noise made him react and he jumped up. His body took on a fighting pose not unlike a cat instinctively. It was a distant metallic noise, but more sounds followed like footsteps, gates opening and closing, and a heartbeat. He then smelled a person before he even saw it. He heard a kind of hiss and realized it was coming from him. He was a snake now? Then he saw Peter appear from one of the tunnels and the hiss stopped. His legs shook, and he was about to collapse, but then Peter was there to hold him. He tried to call his name, but he had forgotten to breathe and there was no air in his lungs to make his vocal chords vibrate.

“I've got you, I've got you,” Peter whispered, sitting him down on the closest mattress without leaving him.

Stiles shrugged and buried his face in Peter's neck, clutching his shirt with both hands. He had forgotten about the blood that now also stained the wolf's clothing. He sobbed in great relief now that at last he was not alone. One hand stroked his back comforting while the other held him tightly.

“You did a great job,” Peter commented. Stiles frowned and then realized he was talking about the vampire's corpse. “We'll have to burn it to make sure it doesn't resurrect, but decapitation is definitely the best method.”

“Good to know, you can use it with me.”

“Hey, no, don't say that.” Peter hugged him tighter and kissed his hair. “You're going to be fine, you're going to get over this.”

“Peter, I... this... m-my body...” Fuck, he couldn't say it.

“I know. I know, sweetheart. We'll fix it, I'll find a way,” he told him confidently, and his heart didn't give any lies away.

“How are we doing...? Wait, you know?” Stiles lifted his head and looked at him confused.

Peter looked at him almost tenderly, a slight curve on his lips.

“From the beginning, well, from the formal. At first the smell of Adderall prevented me from recognizing the other medications, but then it was clear.”

“So, all werewolves...” The idea that any werewolf, any creature with enhanced senses could...

“No, don't worry, if you don't know how to recognize them, it's difficult to distinguish between medications. I had a friend in college who was also under hormonal treatment, that's why I was able to recognize them.”

“My smell isn't... is...” He had always worried about so many things so that people would not notice his situation and now he had to worry about another one.

“It's slightly different from most boys your age, although mainly because of its lack of smell of semen and most would attribute it to a lack of sexual activity. Anyway, you don't have to worry about it, you will soon be practically scentless.”

Stiles frowned and ducked his head to smell himself. He smelled of blood and other foreign smells, but he could barely smell his personal scent.

“It's a peculiarity of vampires,” Peter explained. “It's the way to recognize them, although the most skilled strive to simulate a human smell.”

“Huh. Well, it's not my main concern right now. What...? Fuck, how am I going to-?”

“We. We're going to fix this, both of us.”

“But how?! I can't even have surgery again! It'd just... again...”

“I know, but I'm sure there's some magic that allows us to recover your body. In ancient times surgeries wasn't an option, but magic is older than science. We'll find the spell we need or create it if necessary,” he said it with such conviction that it made him think it was true, that it was possible.

“Werewolves can't use magic,” he whispered.

“But vampires can. You already had a slight affinity for magic as a human, but now, with a little training, you'll be able to use it without restriction.” That proud smile on his face made him blush (or would have if he could still blush).

“You don't have to-.”

“Shh, none of that. We're going to do this together, don't doubt it.” His expression was determined. Stiles was sure that, even if he refused, Peter would keep trying to help him behind his back.

It was comforting that someone cared so much about him. Stiles sighed in relief and relaxed next to Peter, waiting until it got dark.

Peter took him out of the subway station through its abandoned entrance. It was in the suburbs, a pretty abandoned area in every sense, which was good since he was still covered in blood. Peter's Shelby Cobra was right at the entrance (it was a miracle it hadn't been stolen while they were waiting). It was a shame to stain the extremely expensive upholstery with blood, but he didn't have a choice either, and Peter didn't seem to care.

It took them almost an hour to get to Peter's apartment in one of the highest-class buildings in Los Angeles. It had been his property for years, but he didn't use it often, a few times a year when he went to visit Derek or when Stiles needed help with a research. It was an open, modern space with wooden floors, large windows, and metal, glass, and leather furniture. It was quite impressive, especially the views of the city, but Stiles preferred his house in Beacon Hills, much more homey and full of antiques and books.

“Did you bring your laptop?” Stiles asked.

“I'm afraid not, I was in a bit of a hurry. Why don't you take a shower, and I'll go find yours at your place?”

“I had it with me in my backpack, but I haven't seen it at the station. Maybe he got rid of everything when he kidnapped me.”

“Then I'll go to buy a new one, there'll still be a store open. Make yourself comfortable, there are clothes in the room, take what you want.”

Peter left before Stiles could tell him that he didn't have to buy him a new laptop. It would have been useless anyway, he was that stubborn. Stiles walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror without thinking, which was a big, big mistake. There was the body that he had worked so hard to change. As if he had done nothing in those years, as if all the suffering had been for nothing. He got into the shower and slammed the glass door. The crystal exploded, falling into small fragments around him. Stiles started crying cowering in the corner of the shower. He was a monster and not just because he was a vampire.

When Peter returned, he didn't say a word. He stepped over the glass and scooped him up, carrying him into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He sat him on the shower bench and turned on the shower head, not caring about getting wet himself.

“Stiles, tell me if I can take your clothes off or if you want to do it yourself. You have to take a shower, you have to clean this blood.”

At any other time the idea of being naked with that body in front of someone else (in front of himself) would have been terrifying, but he saw the blue eyes that were watching him so worriedly, and he knew that Peter could handle it better than himself. He nodded and raised his arms almost like a zombie. Peter didn't bother to pull the shirt over his head, he just ripped the front with a sharp claw.

“Hey!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“It's beyond saving.”

Peter removed his T-shirt along with the shirt he was wearing on top of it, then lifted him with one arm around his waist and pulled down his pants and boxers. Peter let him sit down again, his body was shaking. He reached for the shower head, and the water washed away the surface blood before Peter scrubbed it all off with the sponge. He was meticulous, cleaning even behind his ears and between his fingers. At some point, Stiles stopped shaking and relaxed under his attentions. Not a single improper touch or look. Stiles wanted to hug him and thank him.

When he finished, Peter turned off the tap and wrapped him in the fluffiest bath robe he had ever seen. They went out into the bedroom, and Peter started looking for clothes in the closets. Even though he didn't live there, there were more clothes than in Stiles' closet.

“Are you tired or hungry?” Peter asked him as he held up a pair of pants in the air to see if they would fit him.

“No, I'm fine, I don't have... Oh, god! I'll have to feed on blood! I'll have to kill!”

Before he could panic, Peter was already there, kneeling in front of him.

“Hey, hey, no killing. First of all, you can feed on the blood of animals. It won't be as satisfying and it won't help you get stronger, but it's possible. Besides, if you wanted to feed on human blood it wouldn't be a problem either. Nowadays it's not hard to have access to a blood bank.”

Stiles snorted a laugh and shook his head.

“Of course.” He couldn't help but smile. After all, Peter was a man of resources like few others. “Sorry about the shower.”

“It's okay, you have to learn to control your new abilities. Put this on,” he said, handing him the clothes. “I know you'll want to star researching right away, but I have to tell you that you should get some rest. Your body has yet to adjust to your new abilities.”

“I can rest with the computer on the bed,” he replied with a shrug.

Peter smiled and brought his new laptop.

“Think about whether you want to stay here or go back to Beacon Hills. Whatever you decide, I'll stay with you, but I think at first it'd be easier in our territory.”

“I'll have to drop out of college,” he realized suddenly. One more thing to add to the long list of misfortunes. “I was so close to finishing the master's degree.”

“You can always follow the classes online.”

Stiles shook his head and took the laptop out of the box. He needed to focus on something, he had to stop thinking about all the things that fell apart in his life.

“The problem is not the classes. In a couple of months, I'd have to start with the internship, and where am I going to do an internship at night? Anyway, what for? What night shift jobs I need my degree for? I'll end up at a gas station or a 24-hour store. I don't need a university degree for that, much less a master's degree.”

He had tried so hard, working to pay for his classes and studying every spare minute to be one of the best in the class. No parties, no friends, no social life, no coming home except in the summer. All that for nothing. Again.

Peter sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, letting Stiles lean against him.

“We'll find something. You could be a night class teacher. And if there isn't a school for that, I'll open one.”

Stiles snorted and buried his face in his neck. He knew that Peter wanted to tell him that he didn't have to work, that he had money to spare to support him, and Stiles was grateful that he didn't. Peter knew perfectly well how important it was for him to be self-sufficient.

“Thank you. For everything, Peter, thank you.”

“I'm here for whatever you need, sweetheart.” Peter tightened his arm around him and kissed his head.

He didn't remember Peter being so tactile, or so affectionate, or so close the last time they'd met, but it was probably the only thing keeping him from falling apart right now.

While Stiles was searching the internet and the bestiaries he had uploaded to the cloud for information on vampires, Peter went to collect some things from his apartment. Even if he did not return to Beacon Hills, he would no longer be able to live with his current roommates. Even if they didn't find it strange that he only left his room at night (something that was not entirely unusual among students), they would find the sudden change in his appearance strange.

He texted his father to call him as soon as he could and considered informing the others, but he wasn't ready for that yet. If it had only been the part of turning into a vampire, it would have been easier.

“You should find less naive roommates,” Peter commented when he returned with ALL of his things.

“Then I couldn't have done some of the things I've had to do,” he replied.

He opened the first bag looking for his hard drive. He made regular copies of his computer there just in case.

“When you put it that way.”

Peter took the hard drive out of the inside pocket of his jacket and offered it to him with a smile. Stiles rolled his eyes and returned with the hard drive to the bed. He hadn't moved from there even though there was a perfectly comfortable sofa in the living room.

“Did you tell Derek?” Stiles asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, I won't unless you ask me to. It's your decision to whom and when to tell.”

Stiles nodded tightly and remained focused on the computer. If it had been Scott, half Los Angeles and all of Beacon Hills would already know.

“Did you find anything useful?” Peter asked, sitting down next to him.

“I thought there was a lot of fake shit on the internet about werewolves, but vampires take the cake.” I was researching on the topic of sunlight, you know, to know if I'll turn to ash or glow like a gloworm. But there are so many possibilities, so many variations that not even something so basic is clear.”

Thanks to his studies, he had a better training to know how to distinguish between reliable sources and junk sources, but it didn't help in something like that. One might think that hunters with their vast knowledge could be a reliable source, but experience told him to doubt every word that appeared in their bestiaries and forums.

“I can assure you that you won't glow like a gloworm and, please, don't read that garbage full of toxic relationships again, it leaves us all in a very bad place.”

“I haven't read it! I've only seen memes on the internet,” he replied. Peter looked at him with an arched eyebrow, and Stiles lowered his head. “Okay, maybe I read the first one out of curiosity. Anyway, do you know anything about that? The sunlight thing, I mean.”

“I can't say for sure, but as far as I know, right now your skin would burn and then your muscles down to the bone. Over time, when you get stronger, you'll be more resistant. You may not be able to expose yourself to the midday light, but you may hold out longer during dawn and dusk.”

“Mm... That matches Anne Rice's type of vampires,” he mused, opening the folder named in precisely that way.

“I have good books at home on vampires, and I can get more, don't worry. I can also speak with some contacts. Vampires are quite closed about their nature, which is understandable, but if I explain your situation to them, some of them may decide to help us.”

Stiles squeezed his knee with one hand and smiled at him. It was a miracle that he could still smile.

TBC...

(The Trans Bingo Card btw)

[minniewoos]

The Sun Will Rise Again ➣ Bang Chan

Genre: mafia au, action, romance

Pairing: chan x reader

Word Count: 6,767

Warnings: violence, swearing, death, idk

Summary: Only looking for a comfy night in, your apartment gets broken into and you’re suddenly dragged into the city’s resident mafia. Turns out the only thing saving your life was your long lost little brother and the small spot the mob boss seemed to have for you. How cliche. 

There’s only so much a person could do on a winter night.

It’s 11 pm, sniffling, you pulled your comforter tighter around your body, trying to gather a little more warmth from the cool air. The lights in your bedroom were dim, so only the pale moon shone faintly through your apartment windows. A hot cup of tea was snug in the palms of your hands as the snow fell outside, landing softly in the soundless streets. You had your laptop pulled in front of you as you watched your latest Netflix obsession; despite the audio being low as to not disturb your neighbors through the paper walls, you were as immersed as you could be. It was a calm night in for you, and absolutely nothing could ruin it.

You took a sip from your mug and set it on your bedside table, eyes glued to your computer screen. Unfortunately, when pulling your hand back you bumped the cup of steaming liquid, spilling it all over your hand and floor. Cursing, you threw your comforter off and quietly rushed to your kitchen where you ran some cold water on your hand, hoping the burn is only minor. You sighed and rolled your eyes at yourself, but you weren’t going to let this ruin your night. You turned the faucet off, the silver handle creaked weakly. Quickly grabbing a few paper towels you returned to your bedroom to clean up the mess.

“Okay y/n, no more messes…” You threw the paper towels away after cleaning and smiled contently, ready to get back to your show, “Nope nope nope.”

Spoiler alert: things get messy

It’s 1 am, you’re caught up on Netflix and your eyelids were weighty. Your laptop was put away, you were ready for bed, and your pillow was the softest cloud on the planet. Content and tired, sleep was about to engulf you completely in your warm bed. Unfortunately, God had different plans for you.

BANG BANG BANG

Your eyes shoot open but you’re frozen in your bed, your blood running cold. That was the sound of somebody knocking–no, pounding on your door. And whoever it was was impatient as they kept on banging your door. You were scared they might break it down completely. Nervously you stepped out of bed, leaving the warmth and comfort it offered. You rushed to your front door and looked through the peephole; a disturbing, sinking feeling in your chest as you see three men. They were in all black clothing; no masks and you could see they were not happy.

“OPEN UP!!” One of them shouted and you felt the door jolt as he hit it once more. They would and could definitely break it down. This never happened in your area. Sure, it was a small and cheap place, but there was barely any crime around. You had no idea what to do in this state, causing your brain to go into instant panic mode.

Frightened and panicked, you grab the closest thing to you for protection: a lamp–not ideal but it would have to do…

Slowly you creep away from the door and hide, there was no way you were opening that door. It was like having a death wish and you didn’t exactly feel like dying tonight. Your chest felt like a giant snake enclosed itself around you, squeezing and constricting the breath out of you; it was terrifying. The feeling of total dread laid over you like a blanket as you hid in your kitchen, managing to fit yourself in a particularly empty cabinet. The out of place lamp and a few pots and pans kept you company.

You could hear what they were saying, as they didn’t bother keeping their voices hushed. It only made the suspense worse, and there wasn’t much room to breathe in your little hiding place and it was hard to think straight in this situation. You felt suffocated as if the small space was shrinking. Your blood was rushing upwards and you felt it pounding in your head, you couldn’t think.

“Fuck it, just break it down. That motherfucker definitely went in this one.”

The next thing you hear is a giant crack, a sort of whipping sound as your flimsy wooden door broke in two. You take in a constricted breath, your voice catching in the back of your throat. You clutch one of your metal pans as a scene from Tangled suddenly flashed through your head; you could only hope Disney did their research into frying pans.

Your eyes were clenched shut and your heartbeat was resounding in your head. You could hear the men trashing your apartment, flipping furniture over, slamming doors open, and knocking everything down. But when you heard them enter the kitchen you nearly stopped breathing. They were slamming your cabinets open one by one, and it was only a matter of time until they got to you. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.

When it was time they reached you, the pounding in your head suddenly ceased, and there was silence for a brief instant. Suddenly one of the men pulled the cabinet door open; and he saw you there, shaking, with your eyes wide with fear. He smiled and your stomach dropped. The man clutched your arm and roughly dragged you out of the tiny space. Letting out a huge sob you were limp as he shook you around, finally gasping for the breath you were holding in.

“Hey! I found this little bitch.” He called to his colleagues, then looked at you, ”Where is he!?”

You didn’t know how to answer his question, but you were positive you weren’t going to just sit there and take the abuse you were receiving. You were terrified and had no idea what was going on. So, with the frying pan in hand, knuckles white and shaking, you swung it as hard as you could at the man’s face.

Contact was made.

He was not happy.

He ripped the frying pan from your hands and slapped you, causing you to fall out of his grip but you were on the floor now with tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Immediately the other two men were in the kitchen as well.

“Where is he? Huh??” One asked, crouching down to your level. But you only looked at him, dazed and confused; you noticed they were all older men.

“She’d hiding something, she fucking slammed me with a pan.”

You shook your head, “N-no, I don’t know wh-”

You were slapped again then grabbed by the hair, forcing you to look up at them, “Where. Is. he.”

Before you could answer, there was a gunshot that echoed throughout the room. The man who pulled you by the hair quickly crumpled to the ground. You instantly backed up, your back against your wall and utterly horrified. Blood began to pool underneath the man’s body. The two others were visibly panicked and about to run, but they were cornered. Your tiny apartment was five stories up and there was no way out except for the fire escape, but they didn’t know about that.

“He had a gun on him, he had a fucking gun. You said he wasn’t armed.”

“I thought he wasn’t, I-I made sure of it-” another gunshot and the second goon dropped to the ground as well, motionless. The sound caused both you and the original intruder to flinch; the older man stumbled to the ground in fear of the figure now towering above you both.

You finally tore your eyes away from the limp bodies on the floor and up at the perpetrator. His gaze looked as if it wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on the last man, and you were sure he would. But instead of killing him, he walked up to the last man, a confident stride that tells you he was more than used to these scenes. His eyes were directly on the last man, and he stopped a few inches from him to crouch to meet his eyes. You noticed an accent as he spoke lowly, “There will be no more dealings with whatever C-class group you came from. And tell your boss SKZ won’t tolerate another accident. Leave… Now.”

And with that command, the man ran. He ran for his life and didn’t hesitate to get as far away from this new guy as he could…

The new man looked at you, visibly angered; immediately your heart jumped to your throat and whatever thoughts racing through your head vanished as a realization occurred to you. You could die tonight. You slowly began to accept your fate as the man raised his gun, pointed straight at your forehead. Staring right at him, right into his eyes, you said nothing as all words were lost to you. You swallowed air and held your breath.

But he never pulled the trigger; instead, he held two fingers to his ear, he was listening to something. You noticed he had some earpiece in. A flurry of emotions crossed this man’s face; anger, confusion, surprise, then finally conflict. He lowered his gun and looked back at you, sternly but had no murderous intent as he had a few moments prior. A small wave of relief lifted off your shoulders and you could only wonder what he heard to spare your life.

“Stand up, follow me.” He ordered abruptly.

You raised your eyebrows, “Sorry?”

“I said, follow me.”

You didn’t have to be told twice as you shakily stood up as he walked out of the building with you behind him. He held his fingers to his ear again and you heard him speaking to someone on the other side

“Call the cleanup crew, it’s messy this time. Much more than it should have been. Did Seungmin jam the emergency calls? …Good, I’m coming back to the home base.” You listened in, and the only thought in your mind was what the hell had you gotten yourself into. This was clearly illegal activity and there was no reason for you to be involved. Maybe you were going to be kidnapped and sold soon, or taken hostage. Whatever it was you wanted no part of it, but at this point, you found it impossible to refuse. The man seemed like he was done talking, but he added one more comment before putting his hand down, “Tell Felix she’s safe.”

That name caught your attention and you stared keenly at the man, waiting for him to say more but he didn’t. Your thoughts began to wander again. Felix? Did he just say Felix? You gazed at the man’s back as you trailed a few steps behind him, eyes wide after hearing your brother’s name. You couldn’t think of many people with the name Felix in Korea, but one you could think of is your brother. Well, was your brother. He disappeared a few years back and nobody heard from him again, a lot of people assumed he died. And while you held onto hope that this guy, Felix, could be your Felix, you knew the idea was ridiculous. Felix was gone for years, and you could never see him doing stuff like this. But why would this Felix want you safe? Why would your life be spared? You held onto a tiny bit of hope for your brother despite the absurd idea.

When the man stopped walking, you realized he led you to a car. It was polished, all black, and unmistakably expensive. He opened the back door, looking at you expectantly. You only stared back for a moment before you realized he wanted you to get in. Your mouth opened slightly and he saw your hesitation in his request. He pursed his lips then sighed, “It’s safe, you’ll be protected and things will be explained later. But we need to leave quickly. Please get in.”

You furrowed your eyebrows; in any other situation, you would have vehemently denied ever getting into a stranger’s car like this. But considering everything you just witnessed, you were in no position to deny this man. You swallowed a lump in your throat before climbing into his backseat. He shut the door then got into the driver’s seat himself, he started the car but didn’t press on the gas as you expected. Instead, he pulled out a piece of cloth from the glove box, turned around and held it out to you.

“You’ll have to wear this on the way. You aren’t allowed to see where we’ll be going,” And very deliberately, he pulled out his gun and setting it on his dashboard for you to see, his message was clear. So, you took the blindfold from him and put it on securely. It was a couple minutes before you felt the car moving, but the silence was deafening and you were still scared shitless about where he was taking you. You didn’t want to talk and risk angering him, but there was still something you wanted to know.

“Just one thing, what’s your name?”

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did reply, his voice was calm and welcoming in a way. Much different from his stern and curt tone from earlier; you preferred it much more.

“My names Bang Chan, I wish we could have met on better terms, Lee y/n.”

∎∎∎

It was a good thirty minutes before you heard Chan turn the car off and get out, shutting the door. You heard him speak to a couple other people before he opened your door and told you your blindfold could come off. When you took it off you blinked a couple times before gawking in awe at the absolutely giant house in front of you. Even in the dark, you could tell it was an extravagant mansion. It had a very clean and chic feel to it; it had tall off-white walls with balconies spread across the sides. The tall, angular windows along with the sleek design gave it a modern and classy look to it. Your small, cheap apartment paled in comparison to this enormous house.

You looked at Chan, and the couple other guys he was with. One was broad-shouldered with a strong set jaw, while the other was shorter but you could see he wasn’t little at all and could probably pack a good punch. You nodded politely at them both, despite the unnerving feeling you had.

“I don’t see the resemblance Hyung. Is he sure he got the right person…?” The shorter one stated, his arms crossed as he seemed to analyze you. You shifted your weight and promptly avoided eye contact.

“Well whoever she is, you know the protocol. There are absolutely no witnesses; so we either kill her or take her.” The one with the broader shoulders said easily. So casually it freaked you out, just how often did they do this??

He then looked straight at you and popped a polite smile; the sudden change in attitude nearly gave you whiplash, “I’m Woojin, this is Changbin.” He gestured to the shorter one, “And you’ve already met Chan.” Then Chan also gave you a warming smile; presenting a completely different version of him you witnessed only a half-hour prior.

You nodded, not sure what to say thus you stayed silent. It felt as if one wrong step would mean life or death, but these guys are out here smiling at you. It was a conflicting situation at best and a deadly one at worst.

“Come inside, but don’t touch anything.” Chan warned you, then lead the way into the mansion.

Once inside, you could tell it was just as grand as the outside. A crystal chandelier hung above the entrance, a red carpet greeted you, and a ceiling as tall as the heavens it seemed. The decor had a white with gold accents theme to it and felt like you were on a movie set, ready to go to a ball. But instead of a ball, you were in a very different situation; one where you could die any second surrounded by people you don’t know. You swallowed the lump in your throat and sighed as you tried to calm your nerves. Everything was fine.

Following the three guys, they lead you to a sort of dining room area; big, long oak table and all. Elaborately decorated oak chairs to match, there was even the ‘big boss chair’ at one end of the long table. You swallowed and looked at Chan, your face asking what happens next. He just gestured for you to sit down while he walked over to the big boss chair. You stared at him for a solid moment before unconsciously rolling your eyes, of course, he was the boss. He exuded confidence ever since you saw him (try to kill you). Changbin saw your little eye roll and looked at you questionably, you just sat up straighter and evaded his eyes. You had a feeling the people here didn’t like you, Changbin and Woojin were staring you down, probably trying to judge your character. Chan was looking to the right at the stairs. You just took a deep breath, Woojin and Changbin were getting intimidating, so you followed Chans gaze towards the stairs and saw a few more people walking down. Specifically, four more boys came down the stairs, all calm but it seemed you were the center of attention. You gulped and looked at each boy sitting down at the table, all looking at you as well, but a couple shortly lost interest.

Nobody said anything, so you crossed your hands on the table and stated calmly albeit a bit nervous, “Hello, I’m y/n… and I’d like to kno-”

“Not everyone is here yet, we’ll introduce ourselves once the other two get here.” One who just sat down said, he seemed stern. You just sat back and stayed quiet, slightly annoyed about the chastising you got, but you knew better than to protest.

You were nervous, to say the least. But you wanted this over with asap.

It was another few minutes of silence, very awkward silence. You settled for staring at your folded hands instead of looking around, some of the boys were still judging you while others couldn’t seem to care less. You were just hoping the rest could get here as soon as possible, so this inevitably uncomfortable meeting could start.

A few minutes passed, or maybe it was a few seconds. You couldn’t tell since your sense of time slipped your mind. But a door suddenly hurled open. It startled you, causing you to flinch in your seat and your head to snap up in the direction of the loud noise. Most other boys sitting at the table turned their attention but weren’t alarmed in the slightest as if they were expecting it. In the doorway, there stood two boys. One was out of breath and rushed, you perked up at the sight of him.

“Wh-where is she?? Is she safe?” One of the boys, the owner of the unmistakable freckles and sharp eyes, questioned urgently.

There was another boy behind him, looking exhausted and annoyed, “Calm down-Chan said she was safe so there’s no need to-”

Ignoring the other boy, he scanned the room but his eyes quickly landed on you, they lit up immediately, “y/n!”

You stood up suddenly, the chair was pushed back and cluttered to the ground behind you and your hands slammed flat onto the table. You leaned forward, eyes wide and you held your breath for a moment. Then your face broke out into a huge smile, toothy grin and all, “FELIX!!!”

You ran over to him as he returned the smile, that smile you could never forget. That wonderful, beautiful, hopeful smile you grew up with. You found Felix. You ran into his arms, and he hugged you tightly; he felt so familiar and warm in this cold place. You stayed like that for a while, you couldn’t tell how long but his comforting presence was needed during this wild night. Your face was hidden and tears began to prick your eyes, sternly you pulled away and punched his chest, “Lee Felix! You have a lot of explaining to do!”

You stared at him and for a moment he looked worried, then he pulled you back into a hug and stroked your hair comfortingly, “I know, I know, I will too. But first, we need to get this done with okay…? y/n?”

You reluctantly pulled away and nodded, lips pursed and walked back to your seat, which was picked up for you. Thankfully, Felix sat next to you, as a result, it wasn’t as nerve-wracking before. But as you looked at Felix, you could see the physical difference in him; he grew up a lot in a few years. He lost the baby fat in his face, he was paler, and he definitely lost the childhood innocence you last saw him with. Felix grew up, without you; and as his older sister that hurt deep. You frowned and pushed your feelings to the side for a while, turning your attention to the group in front of you. And especially towards the big boss in the big boss seat, Bang Chan. He stared at you intently, the friendly aura he had before was gone and everyone at this moment was serious.

“Aw, what a cute reunion.” One of the boys cooed, you noticed he had especially chubby cheeks, and you couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. You were pretty sure he was.

You only kept your silence, not going to start anything, especially with probable dangerous people. You weren’t that dumb.

“No one cares Han.” Chan spoke up, dismissing this Hans teasing, but his comment wasn’t malicious in the way you thought it would be. Not friendly either, but like two old buddies’ banter.

Chan was solemn once again and he looked straight at you. Just his simple gaze caused your heart to move up to your throat and you unintentionally swallowed the lump, “Now, miss Lee y/n, we are well aware that your involvement in tonight’s business was…nondeliberate. But due to our regulations, no outsiders are allowed to witness our business with such detail and concern. We are a very underground and discreet organization. Any attempt or the possibility of our operations being exposed are taken care of. With such a big mess that was caused in your apartment, things had to be taken care of quickly. So, there should currently be a cleanup crew at your apartment at this moment and if I’m correct, we intercepted all calls to the authorities in that area. While there was a big mess, we have it all under control, and the only outlier was you, y/n. You understand?” Chan quickly explained to you; you could only nod quietly. He then continued explaining.

“To put it simply, we were going to kill you. But Felix, our top sniper, was stationed tonight at the building next to yours. He recognized you and requested your life to be spared. Due to his high position in our organization, I accepted his request. Felix is to thank for your life. And now, since you’re here, you are still an outsider; and we will decide what to do with you. Your best option, truthfully, would be to join us. The other options…are less than desirable.” Chan finished, his eyes glued to you the entire time, stern and intense. You nodded again.

“I… have one request before we move forward.” You tread carefully, watching the others’ expressions before continuing. They were listening to you; Chan made a gesture for you to continue with your request. “I would like to know all your names, I only know a few of you. And it would be nice to know who you all are if I’m going to stay here.” You lifted your chin up, trying to stay confident while simultaneously announcing your decision to join this mafia.

Felix perked up beside you, “You’re going to join SKZ? You’re sure.”

“I mean, do I really have a choice?” You stated confidently, despite your sweaty palms and goosebumps, “I either die, or some other…undesirable outcome, or I join you guys. Am I right? I would at least like to know the people here if I stay.”

“It’s not that easy, you have to prove yourself and it’s not easy. People don’t pass often.” Woojin said calmly.

You straightened your back, “Well I’ll try.” You saw Chan smirk from the side but promptly ignore it. You also decide to ignore the little thump-thump your heart did before you looked away from him.

“Well, now that that’s settled, I’m going to introduce myself again, per your request.” Chan announced with a smile and a charismatic hand gesture, “As you already know, I’m Bang Chan. Whatever you want to call me, mob boss, mafia boss, crime lord, SKZ leader, etc. I’m basically the head guy here.”

He did it again, he changed the way he presented himself and just made you feel…comfortable. You were usually wary of people like him, but without thinking, you smirk cheekily and just say, “What about the godfather?” Internally laughing at your own lame little joke. You then realized what you said and mentally curse yourself, what an idiot. You sighed deeply before looking at the table

But Chan didn’t seem to mind, he shrugged, “It’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He’s smirking again, and your heart is acting up again. Consequently, you nervously turn away, but he continues to talk, “And I’m sorry but everyone here has work to do, it’s a very busy day. So, everyone is dismissed.”

With that command everyone got up out of their seats to continue their work, a couple smiled at you and others walked off to ignore you completely. Felix stood up but stayed by your side and Chan got out of his chair. You were confused until Felix began talking.

“I can show her around, right? I’m not as busy as the others and I can introduce her to the others in the meantime.” Felix asked politely.

Chan nodded, “Of course, I was going to show her around but it may be more comfortable for her brother to do that. But try not to take up the others’ time too much. You guys can catch up as well.” He paused then offered a gentle smile, “I think you need it.”

You smiled back thankfully, if Chan had shown you around, you could’ve guessed your hands would’ve been clammy the entire time. You don’t like it, but the way you get nervous around him is inconvenient; besides, he was going to kill you just a little while ago. Your nerves are valid. Chan left the room and the little pressure on your chest left, you looked at Felix, a little smile on both your faces.

“So… during this tour, are you going to explain yourself?”

“I-…yes.”

“Good, let’s go.” You pointed towards the staircase some of the other boys came down and walked in that direction.

“Those are the boys’ rooms.”

You swiveled around and held your arms out in any direction, “You lead the way.”

He chuckled and started walking and you followed closely behind.

“So, let’s start from the bottom, right.” Felix said, leading you into a hallway and down a set of stairs and down another hallway until we got to a set of oak doors, they weren’t huge or grand. But just a humble, plain set of doors, “This is Jeongin’s workspace.”

And with that, the tour began. You met all the members, some more gracious than others. But Felix seemed close to all of them and you were glad to spend the time with your brother. He explained what the other members were in charge of, their jobs, and their importance in the organization. During the tour is when you realized the complexities of this mafia and just how much goes into it. Felix explained as much as he could to you without going too deep into secrets that would probably get you killed if you knew, and you knew not to tread too deep right now.

You also learned there weren’t only nine people in SKZ, but each member had certain underlings who they trained or kept track of. Ensuring secrecy while also having more manpower.

You nodded at Felix, “I figured it would be weird if a mafia as powerful as SKZ only had nine people, SKZ basically rule the city from what you’ve told me. I mean you’re pretty great but I don’t think you’re superhuman.” You nudged him as you walked side by side.

“But I am superhuman. You ever seen me with a sniper rifle? I’m always on target.” He said proudly, albeit half-jokingly.

“Okay, but if you were superhuman that would not be your superpower.” You mused, “If anything it’d be…super strength. You always talked about getting bigger and working out.” And you can see since you last saw him, he did gain muscle. Only reminding you once again he’s not the same kid as before.

“Anyway.” you wondered, “Where do the underlings stay? You said before most people in SKZ are, well, stray kids.”

“They are, but SKZ sponsors boarding houses around the city and suburbs. We ensure they have a roof over their head and food on their plates.” Felix said as he gained a serious look on his face, “It’s hard for a lot of kids who have nowhere else to go. We take care of them as long as they give us loyalty back.”

It was an odd dynamic, crime lords in their twenties and teens; and they took care of other young adults. An organization of kids who constantly kept the law on its toes. It was kind of amusing to you.

Eventually, Felix lead you to a balcony, top floor of the building with a breathtaking view. As he opened the door for you, you stared at the scenery in wonder. A small golden ball rose in the distance while an ombre of oranges and pinks surrounded it. The skyline of the city SKZ owned was a shadow against the beautiful sunrise. The view was complemented by light snow flurries, but it was oddly warm out for the weather. Gentle snow, yet not frigid like it normally was, for the sun seemed to take some of the bite away from the chilly air. You stared at the lovely view until Felix caught your attention, leaning against the stone railing. You went to stand next to him and waited for him to speak.

“I thought this would be a good place to talk.” Felix frowned, he looked like he was dreading this moment. Like a child who knows he was caught and about to get scolded. He looked at you, and you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You don’t have to go into detail…but I just want to know why.” You saw it would be painful for him to recall his memories, bring up old scars in what was a hard point in his life, “We can talk more another day but, I really just want to know why…”

He let out a heavy sigh and licked his lips nervously, “I wasn’t going anywhere I wanted to in life. And I feel a lot freer than I would have if I stayed.” And there he gave you a look, and you knew that was all you would get out of him to be comfortable right now.

You only nodded, not tempted to push the subject despite the curiosity in the back of your mind. After that there was a thick silence hanging in the air, the two of you stood looking out at the city skyline as the sun rose and the day was beginning. You’d be lying if you said the atmosphere was comfortable.

You’ve been on edge all night, the highlight was finding Felix but despite that, your nerves were running wild the whole time. Your life was flipped upside down and you weren’t sure what you were going to do anymore. All you wanted to do was sleep but instead, your apartment got broken into, you almost got murdered, and now you’re joining the mafia. Even with Felix by your side, your beloved brother, you weren’t as happy as you would’ve thought. This whole night was overwhelming for you, and in spite of Felix’s best efforts to make you feel content, you were always on edge. Felix must’ve read the atmosphere and looked at you, noticing your frown he looked down and sighed.

“I can leave you for a little while, you look like you want some time.”

You shrugged, “Maybe just an hour? Then I’ll need some sleep…” you said reluctantly, you did just want to rest alone, despite Felix being the only familiar thing to you here.

Felix only nodded understandingly and headed towards the door, and before he shut it, he turned around and smiled, “I’ve missed you, a lot y/n.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving you by yourself there. The city ahead of you, the rising sun behind the city, and the tiny snowflakes floating around you; you noticed they melted as soon as they reached the ground. And you realized that as soon as Felix left, you didn’t want to be alone, it felt empty. You just wanted to feel safe again.

You stood there in silence for a while, your thoughts running from one place to another. Eventually, you just smiled to yourself as an odd laugh bubbled up from your throat; it was short, high pitched, and full of absolute disbelief. You pinched yourself a couple times, just to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate dream you were stuck in. After looking at the city once more, you rubbed your eyes with the incredulous smile still gracing your face. Only one thought crossed your mind, “What the fuck.”

“Mafia? Long lost brother? Hot and rich boss? What is this a drama?” You muttered to yourself, exhausted and confused. Leaning on the banister, you hung your head low with a sigh as you stared at the ground below you.

Then you snapped your head up, “I just called Bang Chan hot and rich…” you groaned and rubbed your face, “Just kill me.”

Then, you heard the sound of the balcony door shutting and you silently cursed yourself. Somebody just walked onto the balcony and surely heard you talking to yourself like a madman, ninety percent sure it was Felix. You weren’t in the mood to hear Felix teasing you about calling his boss hot, and he most definitely would do that.

You turned around with a frown, ready for a snarky comment to come your way. But you were met with dimples and a cheeky smile instead. Here you found yourself face to face with the man himself, Bang Chan.

An ‘oh god’ was uttered from your lips as the blood from your body gradually moved to your cheeks, the heat of your embarrassment was overwhelming. This was definitely a drama and you were the cringey main character. You were half expecting Chan to walk back out, but instead his grin just got wider.

“Rich? Yes. Hot? Now that’s objective.” He said, dimples on display with a small chuckle.

“You know what’s not objective, my embarrassment.” You leaned your back on the banister, fully facing Chan now. But your face was turned down and your arms were crossed, You were clearly flustered and apparently Chan seemed to find that amusing but he held his arms up as if in surrender.

“You didn’t hear anything, got it?” You warned with a pointer finger in his direction. Your cheeks were red and you were definitely not intimidating. But Chan played along anyway.

“Hear what?” The dimples were back and your heart might have done a somersault.

You smiled, “Nothing.”

Then you both laughed, soft and short laughs. His laugh sounded genuine, a small chuckle that showed a mutual amusement for the little interaction you shared. And despite the embarrassment still fresh on your mind, you seemed to have calmed down some.

You then looked back out to the city skyline, outlined by the orange sky. That’s when you heard the scraping on chairs behind you, you looked around and found that Chan had pulled up a couple of chairs next to the banister. He sat down comfortably and patted the seat next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

“Come on, you must be tired.”

Almost instantaneously you collapsed into the chair, the cushions were like heaven as you leaned back and closed your eyes. And as soon as you sat down, the exhaustion you barely felt before hit you like a wave. Your eyes became heavy and you yawned out, “Thank you.”

It was a long night, and you were grateful for his kindness.

“Listen, y/n,” He rested his hand over yours comfortingly, he got your attention, “I know it’s a lot to take in. The night was stressful and unfamiliar. You felt unsafe, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you still feel like that. I apologize for dragging you into all of this, it was distressing for you. But I will try to make it so you can feel comfortable and safe with Stray Kids. You will have time to adjust and learn the routines here, and of course finding your place with us. If you ever need help, you can come to me and I will try my best. And of course you have Felix, even the others in here. We will keep you safe, okay?” Chan looked at you intently, speaking with purpose and a genuine heart. It was the gentlest you’ve seen him and what he said had touched your heart. It was as if the dark cloud hovering over your heart cleared away a bit, the stress was lifted with his words. You looked into his eyes and you knew he stood by his words.

“Thank you, Chan,” you looked down at your lap, “truly, I mean it.”

“SKZ is a safe haven to a lot of people, and I want it to be one for you too.”

You nodded with a faint smile on your lips, then you looked up at the rising sun and the beautiful scene before you. It was like you couldn’t get enough of it, “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

Chan hummed in agreement and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you both watched the sunrise. Despite whatever happened previously, you felt oddly relaxed next to Chan. He wasn’t familiar like Felix, but he gave off a similar warmth as Felix did. Well, at least now he did, you had seen a lot of different sides of Chan in one night. But this one was the warmest one, and you were glad for the company and ease he provided.

Eventually, as the both of you sat in comforting silence, sleep caught up to you and you felt your heavy eyelids finally close. The songs of morning birds lulled you to drift off to sleep. After your crazy night, it didn’t take long for you to go into a deep sleep, your head suddenly falling to one side. You were out and weren’t waking up soon.

Chan, enjoying the moment, started to hear soft snores from you. He knew you were sleeping before he even looked over, and he didn’t realize it, but the corner of his lips turned up ever so slightly. Thinking your neck looked uncomfortable, he scooted his chair a bit closer to yours and moved your head so that you were leaning on his shoulder. Not even stirring as he moved you. He even wrapped his jacket around you, providing you with some more warmth. Later, he would bring you back inside and let you rest somewhere more snug and comfortable, but right now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment and let you relax.

Chan smiled as he looked at you, the worry that’s been present on your face all night was gone and you finally looked at peace. The stress and anxiety seemed to disappear with sleep. He thought you were beautiful. Very softly, Chan promised, “You are safe here, you won’t be harmed with us. I’ll make sure of it.”

a/n: I honestly think it’s still kinda rough, but I’m impulsive and couldn’t wait any longer to post it so tada~  Like I said before this is gonna be a series so every members gonna get a story. idk who’s next but look forward to it!

[buckysforeverprincess]

Can Our Love Survive? Ch. 14

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Sarah Rogers

Words: 1749

Warnings: Violence, someone is about to get beat!

A/N: Hello! We are almost to the halfway mark and now that these two are a couple things will start moving and happening. We’re starting to get to the good stuff now! Enjoy!

**TAG LISGT IS OPEN UNTIL CH. 15. PLEASE SEND AN ASK**

Thanksgiving was approaching quickly, and you and Bucky had been together for a month. The only people who knew were Nat and Clint and they were both keeping their mouths shut, letting the two of you set the pace for letting your group of friends know your truth. Hiding your relationship was getting harder by the day and you weren't sure how much longer your resolve would hold, and you’d end up blurting out your secret to everyone while sitting at the lunch table.

Bucky had told you Steve had reached out to him to talk, but your brother never carried through. Your boyfriend had waited around after school, but Steve never came. He’d ditched Bucky and now he felt he was back to square one. The entire thing was taking a toll on you and you knew you would hit your breaking point very soon.

“Hey baby?” Bucky kisses the top of your head. The two of you were wrapped up in a tangled mess of limbs, cuddling on your bed. This had become your favorite after school activity since you started dating. Steve never came home before six and your mom didn't get home from the hospital until around eight, so that gave you plenty of time together without the fear of being caught.

“Hmmmm?” You were so comfortable laying on his chest watching tv that sleep was starting to overtake you.

 “I think we should tell Steve.”

 You sat up and looked at your boyfriend puzzled. “Really? Why?”

 “Because I don't want to hide anymore, and I see the stress this is causing you. You've been so good, no attacks lately, but I feel the longer we keep this a secret the more we jeopardize your anxiety. I won't do that to you.” Bucky’s gently holding your face and you see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You really are perfect.”

 Bucky chuckles and leans in for a soft kiss. Kissing him has become your most favorite thing next to cuddles. “When should we do this?” Asking him as you pull away to grab your phone checking the time.

 “No time like the present. Let's just get it over with.” He gets up off the bed, putting on his shoes in case he'll need to make a quick getaway.

 “Well, Steve should be home soon, it's ten minutes to six and I need to start dinner anyway. Guess now’s a good time to have all hell break loose,” you joke and get up off the bed.

Leaving your bedroom. the two of you head out to the kitchen to start dinner. Pasta sounds good and is quick and easy and you have zero motivation to do something big. Bucky helps by grabbing the box of shells and sauce from the cupboard and sets the items down on the counter. He's become familiar with the location of certain things now that he’s spending more time in your home. You've never asked him to help, he just does and you're happy this caring, helpful man is yours.  

“What the fuck is going on?!” Steve's voice startles you and you turn to see a very pissed off Steve and an equally annoyed Sam standing in the entryway of the kitchen. Steve’s was in full alpha mode with his chest puffed out, looking like bull at a rodeo ready to strike. This could get ugly quick and you hoped you could diffuse this situation before it got any worse.

“Dinner is what's going on. Hope you're in the mood for pasta.” You turned away and focused your attention to the shells boiling in the pot on the stove, dismissing your brothers’ question.

“Answer my question Y/N! What is he doing here?!” Steve inches closer to Bucky, preparing for a fight. His fists are balled up at his sides and you know he could strike at any moment.

You turn around and place yourself between Bucky and Steve, making yourself a shield to protect your boyfriend. “My boyfriend is here helping me make dinner! The fuck are you doing here?” You redirect the question to Steve, using the same tone he’d thrown at you.

 “I fucking live here! And since when is he your boyfriend?” Steve yells, his face turning red. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam shaking his head in disapproval.

Bucky decides to take the lead and moves from behind you into Steve's direct line of sight. “For the past month,” he answers, “please don't be mad, Steve. We wanted to tell you and that’s why I’m here. We were ready to come clean and hoped you’d be accepting of our relationship. We’re sorry for hiding it from you.” Bucky apologizes looking directly at Steve, but Steve's eyes are locked on you.

“Seriously?!” Sam yells from behind Steve. “You couldn't get enough outta Brittany, you just had to come after Y/N too?!”  

 “I didn't do anything with that girl!” Bucky defends against the verbal attack. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

 Sam scoffs and shakes his head. “Since when is tonsil hockey nothing?! Why could you just leave her alone? She doesn't need you, you're no better than Brock!”  

Sam’s words ignite a fire in you and you've absolutely had enough. “How dare you talk to my boyfriend that way, and how dare you say that name in my house! I am sick to death of your shit Sam Wilson! Quit judging him on something he knew nothing about and trust me to be able to make my own decisions. Last time I checked I was still my own person!”

“He's just trying to protect you!” Steve joins in the yelling match, agreeing with his friend.

 “Protect me from what, myself?! I’m seriously damaged beyond repair, no one can fuck me up anymore!” You're facing your brother at this point, knowing he's got a rebuttal for everything.

“You're not damaged-”

 “Just fucking stop Steve!” You interrupt him. “I know what I am! And guess what? He knows it too, but he doesn't judge me for it. He cares about me, my feelings, my thoughts. Me! He makes me happy. Can't you see this is the happiest I've been in a long time? Why can't you just let me have this? What’s more important to you, the person I've been for the last year or me right now?” Your eyes are watering from all the emotion building inside you.

“I won't hurt her, Steve. I care about her too much,” Bucky says, coming up behind you and wraps you up in a loving embrace.

 “And when you do, we'll be the ones picking up the pieces just like before!” Sam's tone just as harsh and not letting up.

“God, you just can't cut me a break, can you?” Bucky steps away from you and moves past Steve to stand directly in front of Sam. “What did I do to make you hate me?”  

 “You think I can't see it? I'm sure there's a reason you moved here from nowhere Indiana. Probably got in trouble and this was your only chance at redemption. You're just another broken white boy that needs fixing and she's not your savior!” Sam has inched his way closer to Bucky, the two of them are practically breathing the same air.

“You need to leave, Sam. I won't ask you again.” You're staring daggers at him, the tone of your voice anything but nice.

 Sam scoffs and steps back from Bucky, his gaze now fixed on you. “You're joking right?! I've known you since the first grade, and you're siding with him after a month?! Obviously, Brock fucked you all kinds of wrong, because you are seriously fucked up in the head!”

Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but it was too late. The damage had been done. It took all of three seconds for Bucky to react, punching Sam in the face, making the boy fall to the ground. In an instant, Bucky was on him, continuing his attack, landing punch after punch with no intention of stopping.  

Steve watches in a state of disbelief, but then comes to his senses and moves to the two on the floor trying to remove the brunette from Sam, but Bucky's body is just about as big as Steve’s and lifting him from the other man was a struggle.

 “Let go of me!” Bucky yells, trying to remove the grasp that’s holding him back from his target.

 “Bucky stop please! You're gonna seriously hurt him!” Steve pleads with an adrenaline filled Bucky, finally peeling him off Sam.

 “That's the fucking point!” Sam’s face has taken a beating, blood coming from multiple openings and cuts.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Sarah Rogers has entered the kitchen and assess the scene. She moves quickly, kneeling next to the bloodied boy laying on the ground. “Sam are you ok?”

Sam just groans in response, the fight taking its toll on him. “Don’t get up, let me check you out first. Steve…,” Sarah gets the attention of her son, “… get Bucky out and then tend to your sister.”

In all the confusion, you had been forgotten. You were sitting on the ground with your knees up to your chest trying to control your breathing, a panic attack had set it.

 Bucky removes himself from Steve’s hold and crawls to your side. “I'm so sorry baby!” He places his arms around your body and starts rocking you back and forth trying to offer comfort with his embrace.

“Bucky…,” you cry out, tears running down your face.

 “I'm here baby, I'm not leaving you.” His lips are peppering your head with tender kisses as he rocks you.

 “Bucky... what did you do?” You whisper and start to pull away from his embrace.

 “I'm sorry… I… he… fuck!” He stutters, unable to make out a complete sentence.

“Hey Bucky, let’s go.” Steve’s next to him, a large hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I'll take you home.” Steve's words are soft and there's a kindness about him.

Bucky hesitated for a moment and gave you one last kiss before standing got to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours. “I love you.” Was the last thing he said, turning to Steve and letting the blond walk him through the house, leaving you to watch your mother tend the boy who just took a beating at the hands of the guy you loved.

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[bgn846]

Worthy Chapter 7: Hired Guns FFXV A/B/O Promnis

<Previous Chapter 6 

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning?” Prompto questioned desperately.      

 “Dearest, I know you have been acting strange ever since the engagement announcement, but you will have to accept it at some point.   Hiding in your room won’t solve anything.”

 “I know, but I really don’t want to go outside right now.  Tomorrow morning when it’s light out would be so much better.”

 “Prompto Argentum, don’t make me ask you a second time.  Please take out the trash,” Soliamare requested in a somber tone.

 Wincing, Prompto sighed and furrowed his brow. He couldn’t fight with his mother right now.  It was the last thing he needed to deal with. “Okay, okay. Can you watch me through the window?” he tried.

 “Prompto! I’m not kidding. Get your butt moving this instant,” she huffed, walking away.

 For a moment, he considered telling her what Lady Saeva had done to him so she’d understand why he didn’t want to go outside.  However, he was still worried she wouldn’t believe him. Instead, taking his fate in his own hands, he quietly grabbed the trash bag and opened the back door.

 He could do this.

 All he had to do was run to the bin, chuck the bag in, and run back.  Shouldn’t they have people to do this for them? His mom was a queen, for crying out loud!  

 If only life had worked out that way.  No sooner had he begun the run to the bin when movement in the bushes caught his attention.   The one rational thought that crossed his mind indicated that it probably wasn’t Lady Saeva hiding in the dirt.  However, something was there, and that something was now running at him.

 His throat only allowed a small strangled noise to escape as he dropped the trash bag and stumbled backwards.  It was a person coming at him - no, it was a woman. Astrals, maybe it really was Saeva!

 Then a second figure appeared and tackled the mystery woman to the ground.  They didn’t stay down; the newcomer was gracelessly tossed aside, and the lady continued on toward him.   Prompto had never seen anyone throw a body so easily. His own limbs weren’t cooperating as he tried to get away.   The fear was overwhelming.

 Unable to catch himself, Prompto tripped and tumbled down onto the ground.  He had to try and fight back, but his mind was too muddled to function. Managing to scramble backwards, Prompto looked for anything he could use for defense.  Bloody groundskeepers hadn’t even left him an errant twig lying around.

 A hand grasped his ankle a second later, and his brain went back into full panic mode.  The scary woman had caught up and was dragging Prompto’s body across the dirt. This time a flash of blue light accompanied the second attack.  The figure who’d been trying to stop the fight had used magic! Did that mean they were from Lucis?

 The woman grunted when she was tackled a second time.  “Get off me!” she hissed as they both fell over.

 “Run Prompto!” the man exclaimed from where he’d landed, and he was trying not to get a fist to the face.

 Wait, this guy knew his name, but who would know him?  It had to be the soldier that was stationed nearby, Nyx.   Prompto didn’t say a word but somehow was able to stand again and run for the back door.     Focusing on running up the few steps to the door, he missed a small but important detail. His mother was watching through the door and had decided to come outside.  Gods, no, this was so bad.

 Soliamare shoved the door open wide and was running to him, Prompto wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish.  Bad things were clearly happening outside of their house.

 “Mum, no!  Go back inside!” he tried.  Of course, like any parent, she ignored him and pulled Prompto close into a hug.

 “What on Eos is going on out here?” She asked nervously.

 The attacker was still struggling with Nyx, and when Soliamare made an appearance, it proved enough of a distraction for the woman to shove Nyx away.  Prompto watched in horror as she rushed them again, this time with a dagger drawn. This wasn’t happening; he wasn’t going to let this happen.

 Without thinking, Prompto twisted his mum out of the way and took her place in front of the incoming blade.  Then there was nothing but silence. Things weren’t in slow motion like in the movies. They had ceased to exist.  He’d apparently closed his eyes during what he thought was his last moment alive. However, he was still breathing and uninjured.  

 Nyx’s voice cut through the haze a moment later. “Why?  He’s a harmless omega,” he asked with a strained voice.

 The blond willed his eyes to open, and he was greeted with quite a sight.  This woman who was trying to kill him had her dagger inches from his throat.  Nyx also had his weapon out and had it under the woman’s chin. They were at a stalemate.

 “If he’s so harmless, then why the hit?” the woman pondered coolly.

 “You seriously trust the crazy bitch that gave you that order?” Nyx sputtered.

 “Of course not!” she spat.  “She’s a troublemaker, clear as day.”

 “Then why are you doing what she wants?”

 The attacker paused and looked directly at Prompto.  He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raising. His mum was shaking behind him. She had clutched his arm like a vice, and he suspected if she let go, she might fall over.

 “I suppose if someone is willing to take a hit for their mother, they can’t be that bad,” she mused a moment later, slowly lowering the blade.  “So keep talking, glaive.”

 Nyx went to respond, but a noise from nearby caught his attention.  “Inside now!” he huffed. With his knife still at the attackers throat, they all managed to stumble inside.

 Soliamare was the first to crack. She started crying rather loudly and drug Prompto into the corner of the kitchen.  “Leave us alone. We didn’t do anything wrong,” she wailed desperately.      

 “I’m afraid I can’t do that, majesty,” Nyx replied.  “We need to get answers from our mystery woman first.”

 “You can lower your weapon, glaive; I’m not in the mood to play with you anymore,” she replied dryly. “Besides, blue eyes over there is seriously stressed out right now,” she added, sniffing the air lightly. “Can’t you tell?”

 Nyx furrowed his brow and kept staring at her.  “Obviously, he’s stressed; you just tried to kill him.”

 “I wasn’t going to kill him,” she defended.  “I was trying to see what he’d do.”

 “By holding a knife to my throat?!” Prompto exclaimed.  “How does that help you make a decision about someone?”

 “You’re an omega, and even given that fact, you still went to save your mother.   It’s a sign of good character. Besides, if you have a glaive looking after you, then I suspect the report I was given is incorrect.”

 “What report?” Nyx pressured.

 The woman rolled her eyes ,and then in a flash, she ducked down and away from Nyx’s weapon.  With one swift kick she sent Nyx toppling backwards and across the kitchen floor. “I’m tired of talking with that thing at my neck.  Shall we be civilized and sit at the damn table?” she queried.

 “Hey!” Prompto cut in.  “My mum is having a mental breakdown over here, and I’m barely keeping it together.  Are you gonna try and kill me again?”

 “Huh?”  The woman seemed a little stunned by his outburst.   “Kid, I’m not going to try and kill you. Like I said, I hadn’t made up my mind about that, anyway.”

 “Then can you leave us alone?” he asked, hopeful.

 “Sorry, cupcake. If our lady friend finds out I bailed, she’ll just hire someone else.”

 Nyx had picked himself up off the floor and was stomping back over to where the stranger had taken a seat at the table. “Name?” he growled.

 “Oh – that’s why you can’t smell him as well as me. You’re a beta,” she mused with wide eyes.  “You’re not bad of a fighter, considering.”

 Nyx frowned but opted to stand between the stranger and Prompto.

 A shaky voice spoke up next.  “What lady friend are you talking about?” Soliamare asked with teary eyes.

 “Lady Saeva,” the stranger announced.

 “Wha—no, you must be mistaken!” she lamented.  “She’s to marry Prompto’s eldest brother!”

 “Step-brother!” Prompto and Nyx interjected at the same time.

 Soliamare seemed stunned and started to waver where she stood.   Nyx noticed right away and rushed over to help her sit down. “Majesty, you need to take it easy.” He turned his attention back to the stranger.  “Now, will you please tell us your name?” He asked

 “You could pass for an alpha with some more training.  You’re so good at it,” she enthused with a small smile, completely ignoring his question.  

 “I’m gonna start calling you nasty names if you don’t provide one!”

 The mystery woman laughed and leaned back in the kitchen chair.  “You can call me Aranea. So what’s your name      beta    ?” she asked, using her full alpha influence.

 Prompto could tell Nyx was struggling with this encounter.  The scent this woman, Aranea, had started to produce was intoxicating.  It wasn’t calming, but it wasn’t threatening either.

 “Ulric,” he finally managed through gritted teeth.

 “The famous glaive, Nyx Ulric. This is exciting.”

 “What are we going to do?” Prompto asked weakly as he slowly sank to the floor.

 “Hey now, kid, don’t sit on the floor,” Aranea cooed as she stood up.

 “Don’t hurt me!” the blond whimpered as he backed away further into the corner.

 Nyx was about to abandon his post next to Soliamare when Aranea stopped and held up a placating hand.  “I’m not going to harm anyone. Promise.”

 “How can we trust you?” Nyx asked seriously.

 “You’ll just have to use your gut instinct,      beta    .”

 “You – you have to do better with your scent,” Prompto offered.  “I’m not feeling so great right now.”

 Aranea looked a little dumbstruck by the statement.  “My scent? Oh! You mean you want me to change it?”

 Prompto nodded his head furiously.  “Ignis can do one that’s really calming; I thought all alpha’s could.”

 “Ignis, as in the prince of Lucis’ advisor, Ignis Scientia?”

 “Uh-huh.”

 “How do you know Scientia?” Nyx asked worriedly.

 “I know of him. I don’t know him personally.  Besides, if Scientia likes you, I’m not touching you with a ten-foot pole, kid.  You should warn a lady first.” Aranea huffed. “Playing with fire has its dangers.  His mom must have known what he’d grow up to be to give him a name like Ignis.”

 “What are you thinking he’s responsible for ,anyway?” Nyx asked perplexed.

 “He’s a mastermind.  He plans and calculates and does things that no one else thinks of.  You’re probably here because he sent you.”

 Nyx pursed his lips but stayed silent.  

 “Well that answers that. So this scent thing. . . you say you want calming, huh?”  Aranea wrinkled her nose as she worked to adjust her pheromones.

 Prompto could tell instantly that she’d changed something.   Instead of the previously charged atmosphere, his heart rate was finally able to slow down.  He didn’t even notice she’d approached until he felt his foot move. She’d nudged his shoe with her boot.

 “Better?”

 He nodded and closed his eyes.

 “Hey kid!  Sit at the table with us!” she tried.

 Popping his eyes open once more. He accepted Aranea’s hand, and she tugged him upright.  Once he’d sat down, his mum forcefully drug his chair closer to hers. “Is that why you were so upset at the party the other night?  Did she do something to you?” Soliamare asked with a pained expression.

 “She threatened him with a knife and was trying to bite him I think,” Nyx cut in.

 “You were there!” Prompto shouted.  “Titan’s ass, it was you that slammed the door!”

 “Language, Prompto!” Soliamare reprimanded.

 “Sorry, mum. I didn’t know it was Nyx who saved me.  She was going to stab me or claim me, I couldn’t tell.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

 “You wouldn’t have believed me,” the blond lamented.

 Soliamare went to answer but closed her mouth a moment later.   “I’m so sorry, dear heart. I didn’t realize what her true character was.  Do you forgive me?”

 “Mum!” he cried. “Of course. Will you please let us leave now, though?  I don’t want to live here anymore. I want to go to Lucis. Noct wants to have us, and Ignis is helping him figure out how.”

 “You can add me to the list, too,” Aranea added with a grin.

 “What makes you think I trust you?!” exclaimed Nyx.

 “You will,      beta    . Don’t you want to keep an eye on me?” she asked innocently.

 Nyx shuddered and shook his head.  “Will you stop using alpha-influenced speech. it’s really hard to have a conversation with you.”

 “I know,” she offered, still smiling.  “      Beta    .”

 Nyx made a high pitched noise and clenched his fists on the table.  “Why me?” he huffed under his breath.

 “Why not you?” she asked.

 “Astrals save me.  Prompto, do you trust her?”

 “Can we ask Ignis?” he ventured.

 “Yeessss, let’s ask Scientia. I want to hear his voice.”

 “We can’t exactly call him; I can send a text, though.”

 Aranea frowned but still seemed excited by this development. “How exciting, coded messages.”

 Nyx sighed as he dug out his phone.  He typed for a few minutes and then put the phone down.

 “What did you say?” Soliamare asked.

 “If I told you, it wouldn’t make any sense.” Nyx lamented.

 Prompto assumed, since Nyx was calming down, that Aranea would probably stay with them unless Ignis texted him back something to the contrary.  Now they had to figure out how to get out of Niflheim and back to Lucis where it was safe. If Lady Saeva had hired someone to try and kill him, then she was serious about getting rid of him.  That thought was a little disheartening, but he was glad he had help to fight back. He wasn’t going to let Lady Saeva ruin his life.

       Ignis stared at his phone.  Oh dear, this was a very disturbing development.

 Nyx Ulric 10:48pm      :          New co-worker started today from rival company.  Not sure if they are on the up and up. Showing them the ropes now but things may change. The new girl’s a sharp cookie.  

 He had to act fast. Things were spiraling out of control, and he was getting very worried for Prompto’s safety.   The advisor grabbed his coat and ran out of his apartment. It didn’t take long before Ignis tracked down Ardyn. He was lounging in the gardens in the dark.  The man saw him coming and gave Ignis a puzzled look as he briskly strode over.

 “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” asked Ardyn from the shadows.

 “That vile woman has hired an assassin to go after Prompto,” Ignis hissed quietly.

 “Oh, that does move your timetable forward slightly.  I take it we are to be leaving within the hour?”

 “Yes. I must tell Noct and Gladio, and then we can go.”

 “Oh! I want to watch. I love it when our young prince gets riled up,” Ardyn exclaimed as he stood up and smoothed out his coat.

 “You enjoy it because he accidentally sets things on fire.” Ignis sighed.

 “It’s a Lucis Caelum thing, Ignis. You wouldn’t understand.”

 Rolling his eyes, they both started walking towards Noct’s suite.  Ignis had already texted Gladio with instructions to meet them there.  He could only hope that the prince would follow his directions.

 Noct, to his credit, didn’t set anything on fire.  Ignis could tell that Ardyn was terribly disappointed, but they didn’t have time to waste with such matters.   The dark-haired youth did try to weasel his way into coming, but his shield put a stop to that plan.

 Gladio was not going to let Noct leave Lucis - not with assassins running around.   Noct finally backed off and made them both promise to send him constant updates.  

 “Do you think he was able to convince his mom to leave?” Noct asked worriedly.  “He said he wasn’t going without her.”

 “I am not leaving Prompto in that situation.  I will strive to educate his mother on the reasons for leaving, but if she won’t come, then I can’t force her.”

 Noct looked confused for a moment.  “Um --.”

 “Save it princess, he basically just said he’s coming back with Prompto whether his mom likes it or not.” Gladio huffed.  “You both better get going. I don’t think snaky would cheap out on hired help for a job like that. You don’t have much time.”

 “Snaky is far too kind of a name for that harlot,” Ignis growled.  “We must go.” On that final note, he turned and left the suite. He hoped he wasn’t too late.  Nyx appeared to be handling what he could, but if Saeva got King Alban on her side, things would definitely take a turn for the worse.

 “My dear boy, I’ve not seen you so animated in quite some time,” Ardyn proffered as they walked towards the car waiting to take them to the airfield. “I do believe Sana’s assessment of imprinting is correct.”

 Ignis stalled briefly in the corridor.  “You talked to Sana?” he ventured.

 “When she visits I do, of course, but I’ve gathered this information from Gladio.”

 Picking up his pace again, Ignis wondered when that talk had occurred. “Do you and Gladio discuss things frequently?”

 “We had our reasons; we were concerned about you.”

 Ignis stopped for a second time. “Concerned? What on Eos would you both be worried about?”

 “Ignis, I know you can walk and talk. Shall we?” Ardyn gestured with his hand.

 “Did you consider it might be you who can’t walk and talk?” Ignis grumbled as he continued on.

 Arydn’s laugher broke the tension.  “I can do a great many things at the same time.”

 “Hmmm.  So why were you discussing me?” the advisor tried again.

 “Gladio correctly guessed that I’d met other imprinted mates, so he wanted my insight.  We have both noticed your change in behavior around Prompto.”

 “Though I desire to know more, I must be blunt due to our current situation.  Should I be worried about anything?” Ignis asked with furrowed brow.

 Ardyn smiled.  “No.”

 “That’s it? You have some possible life-altering talk about me, and I’ve nothing to worry about?” Ignis asked in disbelief.

 “You decided to rescue the lad, so you did the right thing.  No intervention needed.”

 Ignis opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.

 “Imprinted mates don’t fare well if they don’t get together, Ignis.  Gladio simply wants you to be happy, which is why he sought my advice.”

 Taking a deep breath, Ignis hurried his pace as they raced to get to Niflheim.  It was astonishing that someone could hold such power over him after they’d only been in each other’s company for a day at most. Prompto might not even feel the same way.  He could travel there and be rebuffed. That would be a rather disappointing let down.

 It was pushing midnight when they finally boarded the dropship. Ardyn plunked down in a seat and promptly fell asleep. Ignis envied his ability to tune out the world when need be.  His mind was far too consumed with possible issues and problems that would await them when they landed.

 Suddenly overcome with an odd feeling of guilt, he pulled out his phone to text Gladio.

Ignis Scientia 12:05am: I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?

 Breathing deeply, he waited to see if the shield would respond.  Thankfully, the man answered him within minutes.

Gladio Amicitia 12:08am: Of course you are the kid needs help.

Ignis Scientia 12:10am: You don’t think Noct is cross with me for ignoring him, do you?  I’ve been so focused on Prompto. I fear I’ve not been doing enough for his highness.

 His phone pinged nearly immediately after that.

Gladio Amicitia 12:11am: NO! and NO!

 Ignis looked down at his phone with wide eyes.  He assumed Gladio was typing more and waited for a follow up message.

Gladio Amicitia 12:14am: Noct would be sneaking out right now if I wasn’t here to prevent it.  He’s ecstatic that you’re taking action. Plus you do too much for princess as it is, he’ll survive.   Go get your omega!

 The last message helped dispel Ignis’ worried thoughts.  Even if Prompto turned him down, he would still help him escape Niflheim and start a new life elsewhere. Opening a text to Nyx, he alerted the glaive to their arrival.

Ignis Scientia 12:20am: I wish to interview your new coworker before the shift starts.  Will your office work?  

 They’d already arranged code words for meeting places in case this very scenario happened.  He could only hope Nyx would get his message in time.

 The glaive texted him back within minutes.

Nyx Ulric 12:25am: Please tell me the head of HR is coming too?

 Oh dear. This was very bad indeed.  If Nyx was already requesting backup, things were getting dangerous.

Ignis Scientia 12:27am: Even better, the VP.

Nyx Ulric 12:29am: Thank the six.

 The messages stopped after that, and Ignis could only prepare for the unknown.  His first order of business once they landed was to locate Prompto and Nyx and get the hell out.

>Next Chapter 8

[highfivecalum]

Dark In Your Heart {CEO!CH} 2

Previous Chapters: One 

◈◈◈

“Claudia,” Calum cleared his throat. “You can go now. Thank you.” Claudia nodded her head silently and slipped out of his office, leaving just he and Maddie alone, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. Maddie swallowed nervously and Calum watched as her throat worked. He clenched his jaw, trying not to think about last night. He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.

Maddie sat down silently, still way too nervous to utter a word or even look in his general direction. She crossed one leg over the other and licked her red lipstick covered lips. The same lips that were pressed against and wrapped around her fucking boss just hours before.

“So,” Calum cleared his throat once again and she snapped her head to look at him, nearly breaking her neck in the process. Her hair fell over her shoulder and Calum bit his lip at the sight of the hickeys he left on her skin. “Maddie.”

“Um, yes?”

“Are you a Madison or Madelyn?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. That was definitely not was she was expecting him to say. “Uh, n-neither. Madeline, actually.” Maddie tried not to stumble over her words and Calum cocked an eyebrow at her. He could tell she was nervous, it was hard not to tell with the way she repeatedly licked lips and bounced her leg up and down so you could hear her heel tapping against the floor quietly.

“You seem nervous.”

“What? No. I-I’m not nervous.

It fell silent and Maddie quickly looked away from him. She could barely keep eye contact with the man that was to be her boss for God knows how long. If she still even had the job. Oh God, Maddie went into panic mode at the thought of that. She didn’t have a job and was relying on this one, so if she got fired? She was fucked.

“I guess we should talk about last night.”

“Are you going to fire me?”

Their words overlapped each other and Maddie rolled her lips into her mouth as Calum tried not to smirk at her sudden outburst. He was never this laxed around his assistants, but he had already made her cum and saw her naked, so he figured there was no point in being uptight with her.

“What was that?”

“I, uh, I asked if you were going to fire me?”

“Now, why would I do that, Maddie?”

“I, uh, well, you know, because of last night…” Maddie trailed off, once again swallowing and as Calum watched all he could think about was the way his hand was wrapped around her throat the night before and how the moans that tumbled out of her mouth sounded like heaven to him. He had to stop thinking about her like that before his pants tightened even more.

“Right,” Calum cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. He completely forgot about what he was supposed to be working on, all his attention now on the beauty in front of him. It was dark in the bar and she left before he woke up, so he didn’t get to really look at her. He got to see her brown hair and bright green eyes up close, in the daylight, and Jesus, did Calum think she was gorgeous. “Last night happened and it was well-” Calum had to choose his words wisely. He couldn’t admit she was the best lay he had gotten in a while now that she was his assistant. He had to be professional. “It happened and can’t take it back, so I say, for professional purposes, we should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“So, you’re not firing me?”

“No, Madeline. I’m not firing you.”

“Okay, great.” Maddie pursed her lips and stood up, smoothing down her dress. She wanted to get out of his huge office, that seemed way too small now, and turned around on her heel, sparing him one more glance behind her shoulder as she pulled the door open. “Thank you, Mr. Hood.”

Calum’s pants definitely tightened at that.

◈◈◈

Meet me at Local Bar. Right now.

That was the first thing Maddie did when she stepped out of the building of her new job. Exhaling the breath she had been holding in all day, and finally relaxing, she pulled out her phone and texted her best friend who was with her the night before at the bar.

Everything okay?

Was the instant response she got from Stevie and she rolled her eyes. Everything was obviously not okay.

Not even close.

Maddie ordered herself a drink right as she was taking an empty seat at the bar, peeling her coat off and throwing it on the back of the chair, along with her purse. The beer was placed in front of her and so was the shot of Patron she ordered.

“Damn, bitch.” Stevie snorted as she slid into the chair next to her best friend. Watching as Maddie downed the shot, she cocked and eyebrow. “What happened to you? Your first day of work that bad?”

“I fucked my boss.”

“Wait, I’m sorry. What?” Stevie choked out a laugh.

“Last night. The guy who bought us drinks? Who I went home with?” Maddie shut her eyes at the memory, trying to erase the thought of Calum, her boss, out of her head. But it seemed impossible. “He’s my boss, Stevie.”

“Oh my-“ Stevie couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh at the news. It wasn’t funny in the slightest, but Stevie couldn’t help but laugh at how fucked up the situation was. “That’s just-“

“Fucking awful? Yeah.” Maddie chugged the rest of her beer and ordered another right away, thinking about the night before as she waited for the bartender to serve her.

Thought about how charming he was, how it took little to almost no effort to get her back to his house, and how good he made her feel. How his hands roamed her body and his lips worked expertly to bring her closer and closer to the edge. More than once. How good his cock-

“Maddie!” Stevie nearly shouted and Maddie’s head snapped to the side, eyes wide as she looked at her best friend.

“What?”

“Were you listening to anything I was saying?” Maddie’s cheeks heated up and she took a sip of her beer, ignoring Stevie’s knowing look. “What- were you just thinking about fucking your boss?”

“No! No. I was just-“

“Thinking about last night?” Stevie smirked. “He was hot, I get it. I would be thinking about it, too.”

“But he’s my boss!” Maddie exclaimed.

“Yeah, well, just don’t let it happen again. You’ll be fine, babe.”

Maddie sat back in her chair, puffing out a breath of air, and throwing her head back in aggravation. She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood as she thought about the predicament she had gotten herself into. It was just her luck that this would happen to her.

Just Maddie Thompson’s luck that she lands a great, very well paying and high class job, but just so happened to have the best one night stand ever with her Goddamn boss. Really, her life was a sick joke, it seemed.

“Hey,” Stevie rested her hand on Maddie’s upper arm and gave it a gentle, reassuring, squeeze. Maddie lolled her head over and Stevie frowned at the melancholy look on her best friends face. “I know you’re worried, Mads, but you’ll be fine. Just don’t make eye contact, try not to be alone with him, and most definitely do not picture how good he would look going down on you in that suit he wears.”

“Stevie!” Maddie gasped and shoved her away playfully. Maddie, once again, chugged her beer down in record speed. She needed a buzz, if she was going to be having that conversation, that much was for sure. “That thought wasn’t even in my mind until right now! Until you put it there!”

“Just tryin’ to be helpful. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not.” Maddie rolled her eyes. “So shut up.”

Stevie chuckled, and even though Maddie knew the situation wasn’t even close to funny, she couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Leave it to Stevie to always find humor in the most fucked up situations.

◈◈◈

Taglist: @novacanecalum @cosmocalum @roselukes @kinglyhood @cantbehandled-ever @hereforlukescruff @astroashtonio @monsteramongmikey @gosh-im-short @emma070900 @youmaycallmemrshemmings @cakesunflower @asht0ns-world @singt0mecalum @lockthisheartinchains @cheyenne-in-wonderland @babyurart @blahehblah @inlovehoodx @softboycal @hopelessxcynic @ashtoniwir @calumsmermaid @curly-cal @callllumhood @rexorangecouny @kurtsflowergirl @cocktail-calum @lukewarmwoda @meganmisc @neonweeknds @kenopsia-falcon @blue-sunset-oreo-lover @foolishcal @ayee-style @itsmeempar @outofmylimitcal @mariellelovescupcakes-blog @post-traumatic-mess @damselindistressanu @tapolesarebabyturtles @noswagswag @scarapoison @sugarcoatedcalum @notsooperfect @trustmeimawhalebiologist @klb967 @pettybassists @littlebear1353 @cal-king @kinglyhemmings @cthoodsthetic @melanindarling

 (if you want to be add/removed send me an ask!) 

[posarmeklen]

Birth of the Antichrist

Hahahahahahahahaha. Hahahaha haha. Ohh ha ha ha ha. Sooooo, anyone want a list of some things that would most likely probably happen during/before/after/surrounding Jacknife's tender and special moment? No? Ok, here it is: - It would totally take place in the Doctor's de facto "hospital room" of sorts seen in the episode "Mayhem Donor". I was planning on going for that other hospital-like area in the prison from "Special Needs", but I figured this was a slightly less suitable place for the delicate process of labor, thus making it MORE appealing. - And offering up his space was the LAST of the Doctor's involvement with the pregnancy. He more or less took care of Jacknife while he rode out the end of his pregnancy at Superjail - mad scientist, obstetrician, same thing. However, the Doctor got SO fed up with Jacknife's terrible behavior during their appointments, such as Jacknife kicking him in the throat while on the exam table in hopes of snatching some rubbing alcohol up high on a shelf, that he relinquished every duty dealing with that son of a bitch and his demon spawn. So that left only Jailbot to attend the delivery for ““““moral support””””... and Jared, who the Warden ordered to tag along. It's not like Warden would be game to do that dirty work himself. Jared's already a basket case, never mind that he seems to be terrified of Jacknife, so suffice it to say he wasn't excited out of his mind for the new arrival. - The offspring actually reared his ugly head a month too early mainly because of Jacknife's poor lifestyle choices becoming disappointing prenatal habits. And it JUST SO HAPPENED that Jailbot couldn't help tending to a duty outside the confines of Superjail a day before the momentous surprise. Really... it was a terrible, terrible coincidence that no one likes to see happen. Therefore, with Jailbot MIA, that left Jared alone to "bond with" Jacknife for a good half of the experience. - The morning before the birth, Jacknife experienced one last big gust of chaotic energy. A not-so-calm before the storm, if you will. Feeling totally himself (the strange and ominous pains from last night were somehow gone for the moment!), his personality really sparkled through: sat around a table with a gaggle of the main inmates (this was part of a parental education plan set in motion by the Warden, to which every step had magnificently backfired; in this particular case, the objective was to teach Jacknife the general social skills he sorely lacks and might have needed to be a loving and agreeable parent), he cheated at poker, somehow got into an altercation with Lord Stingray, and physically drooled over an X-rated magazine that he snatched out of someone's hands as the guys half-jokingly gave him the sage advice of getting all his titty goodness in now before he came face-to-face with his bundle of joy. (Barely anyone REALLY thought he would ACTUALLY take on the responsibility of parenthood. They set the bar low after they saw what happened with "that Ultraprison broad".) Alas, Jacknife later leapt straight onto the table to reach for something in a way a pregnant person should not, and there reverberated a mighty splash! An already straining large-sized prison uniform was now drenched, and everyone knew the magic was surely moments away. - During the first moments in the "birthing center", Jared feared for his life as Jacknife, the cause for his terror, prepared to bring new life into the world. Soon enough, though, the ambiance took a turn. Jacknife got that dad sold my toys for booze look on his face. Water works were impending. Jacknife sniveled grossly as Jared reassurred him that he was sure he could do this, because he had already been through SO MUCH WORSE. I mean c'mon! "What's 7 or 8 pounds squeezing through a too-small hole?!" That was Jared's method of uncomfortably consoling someone whom he feels like HE needs consoling when in the presence of. He was freaked out. (Joke's on them. The abomination would slide comfortably over the 10-lb mark.) "Arrggggghrrrrr!!" Jacknife replied. (Their heartfelt moment was cut short from him tensing and sitting up at the discovery of another contraction.) - At long last, a rushed Jailbot burst into the room, demolishing the door as he zoomed into his rightful spot. Not before Jared sped up to him and began speaking inconspicuously through clenched teeth though. "Jailbot! Thank goodness you're here! He's...crazy...!" - As depicted above, Jared verbalized the strangeness of the situation while speaking words of encouragement to the convict. Meanwhile, Jailbot whipped out a metal tentacle arm with an accordion fan attachment from his limitless internal arsenal to fan the shit out of the very overheated Jacknife. - See that scowl on his screen? Take a good look. That's a >:[ of concern. Jailbot was at first absolutely ecstatic about getting to watch Jacknife experience childbirth - since it's of course world-renowned as the worst pain of one's life and putting Jacknife through pain is that sadistic machine's specialty. However, as the orifice that Jacknife would soon birth his child out of gradually opened up, so did Jailbot's heart............ <3 and he began to feel twinges of worry and well wishes for Jacknife and soon-to-be baby. Aaaaawww. - Jacknife flipped Jailbot off because classy and he can't say "You did this to me". - Jacknife also screamed bloody murder. In other words, it sounded like a typical Superjail intro. - Later on, things got super srs. Of his own accord, Jacknife changed position a bunch of times while displaying an uncharacteristic expression of focus because even absolutely feral career criminals "listen to their bodies" and "just know" during labor. Apparently. - Jailbot was the one to receive the dignified honor of Catching The Baby, after which he magically brandished a large pair of scissors and cut the cord too. At once, Jacknife flopped down flat on his back and let out an exasperated sort of groan out of sheer relief and exhaustion. But, in an instant, Jared made eye contact with him from behind Jailbot and tried to be a good sport: "Well, you're not pregnant anymore!" To which Jacknife responded by sitting up like a shot and grinning maniacally ear-to-ear at his newfound freedom. - Ever since it was revealed that Jailbot was the culprit of the knocking up of Jacknife through means such as accidental scientific intervention (of course before an encounter with Jailbot's vibrate mode under the stars), it was a total mystery to everyone as to what on God's green earth the product could actually be. Boy or girl? And aside from the traditional sex-guessing, (sub-)human, robot, or sinful in-between? So when a little mistake with nothing but the best of both worlds VIEW HERE came to say hello, Jacknife groaned in shock at the appearance of his new son, but it was all Jailbot could do not to be overjoyed at nature's wondrous meld of himself and his favorite felon. He was a bit concerned beforehand about the aftermath of a scandalous union between prison staff and inmate resembling him, but not when it *felt so right like this*. Now, all they had to do was remove the infant from jail premises asap. - The rest of the staff (well, the Warden and Alice) entered after the initial festivities. They all (the staff) got misty. Even Alice. It's because their Jailbot was officially a new parent now. They grow up so fast. - Meanwhile, Jacknife sat up in bed grudgingly and carelessly holding his spawn. With everyone totally enveloped in the feel-good event of the century, the four staff members simultaneously turned their heads toward him and smiled down at him encouragingly. Jacknife reciprocated the gesture by growling at them in resentment. - So it was then that Jailbot had an idea to diffuse the tension: He slid open an internal compartment and classically passed out cigars to the attendees of the room. After presenting the Warden, Jared, and Alice with theirs, he paused meaningfully when he got to Jacknife and reflected on the few times over the past couple months where he had to pry cigarettes and other non-pregnancy-friendly substances from his grubby hands. Now that the fetus was out, he felt more than happy to make a crook's day with a tobacco product. Jacknife was over the moon when he saw a metal claw outstretched to him grasping something to smoke, beaming as his jaw went slack and tongue lolled right out. And in order to free his hands to grab the cigar, he made a sacrifice as we sometimes must and tossed the infant off the side of the bed. Poor Jared happened to be standing there and BARELY caught the fortunate robot child totally improptu as he frowned in a panic with his teeth chattering away. Activate Jailbot emoticon for pissed. - And speaking of Jared, he addressed Jailbot and Jacknife and asked what the hell they were gonna do. Good question. :/  The violent mute duo were somehow legitimately excused from SJ for only a couple days so they could hang at Jacknife's place and do their equivalent of discussing their options. (They JUST came to the conclusion that they should not, could not, and ultimately would not actually parent their offspring together. Imagine that!) Jailbot came up with a modified means of transport for the journey away from Superjail (oooooooohh! That lucky robot's about to soak up the wrong side of the tracks!) since there was currently a third passenger in the equation, and who would trust Jacknife to hold a baby with two hands while sitting on a chair, never mind with one as he flew through the sky? That's my question. It turned out Jailbot conveniently morphed into a boxy vehicle with a seat and metal safety bar in front, like something out of an amusement park, and Jacknife sat inside with the kid. What do you know, the little shit got airsick because it was his first time and he graced Jacknife's flesh with some fresh bile. Gross man: "Eeeeeeeewww!" -  During the precious family moments, Jacknife's lack of grace as a parent was spelt out clear as day, as Jailbot temporarily assumed the brave role of single robotic father, more or less (although the "microscopic quotient of selfless love" Jacknife's been rumored to possess came out to play once in a blue moon in such manners as Jacknife scaring the ever-loving shit out of his offspring by pulling wacky faces at him from an already unsightly mug). Now, someone also had to nourish the fruit of their loins from the warmth of their own bosom, all the while said someone wished he could be the spectator instead of the participant and the participant could be someone with bazookas big enough to fill a bra. But alas! You can't always get what you want. Oh yeah and I'm not sure what becomes of the baby afterward yet. But let me tell you. He's goin' places.

[shewolfofficial]

First of all, *inhales* I LOVE YOUR BLOG AND YOU SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!! And also, can you write a scenario where Hanji, Y/n and the Yaegerists find Levi? Then, when Floche says to shoot Levi, Y/n goes god-mode on him? (What happens next is your choice :3 ). Love ya 💕!

*Inhales as well* ThANK YOu SO MuCH YOuR sO SWEeT AND KInD!! 😘😘😁😁😁

It’s 1:05am when I finished the this, pls excuse any mistakes or typos since I am currently half asleep

Warning: Cursing, Mentions Of Blood, Violence

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

Rain pouring from the dark sky above I kept my hood up as I rode alongside Hanji, Floche and a few others surrounding us as we rode over a bridge by a river. There had been a lightning strike that went off in the distance and now we were going to check it out to see what was going on.

Finally arriving at the scene there seemed to be a titan laying on its stomach with steam emitting from it, was it dead? Was it alive? What was it even doing?

“What the fuck has happened?” I mumble slowly hopping off my horse as Hanji takes a step closer to the titan. “Commander Hanji! F/N please don’t move around on your own!” someone calls out from behind me, not bothering to turn around and see who the fuck was yapping I trail my gaze along the grass. As I hear Hanji mumble something about the cart being blown away.

Sight landing on something, well, someone right by the river I feel the blood drain from my face. “Somebodies there!” I say out loud running to whoever it was, falling to my knees I attempt to haul the person out. Hanji arrives next to me and takes over, successfully pulling out the unknown person from the sideline of the river. Turning them over to get a full view of who it was.

Oh, how I wished I didn’t have to ever see this..

“Levi?”

“Oh no.. Oh nononono! Levi no!”

“I have no idea what happened.. But we’re lucky, our number one threat is here bloodied up..” Floche says appearing behind us as I choke on the sobs looking at the bloodied and scratched up face of my lover. Hanji had a plain expression as she held him up. “He’s dead. He got caught in the explosion of a thunder spear at point blank range, I’ve seen similar accidents during training but beyond external wounds, internal organs would be ripped to shreds and death would be instant” she explains looking back to the male as he held his gun with a cold expression.

“I can also take his pulse, so let me have a look” Floche ignores her seeming to try and check for himself, though, I knew what Hanji was up to since she shot me a little wink and a slight smirk. Averting my gaze to Floche I shot him a glare “why don’t you believe her! He’s- He’s dead!” I cry out attempting to convince him as he only sighs. “F/N don’t start crying, we get that you love the guy but don’t start crying over him” he grumbles as I start to feel my patience lessen.

hoW DARE HE!?

“He might not be dead, I might as well shoot him in the head”

Snap!

The sound of something snapping inside of me sent an unhuman like adrenaline through me as I sprung up and swiftly grabbed Floche’s gun from him, yelling at Hanji to escape, which she hurriedly did since a splash was heard a few seconds later I begin to dodge and swerve the multiple bullets fired at me from those Yeager bastards as I knock out Floche with the butt of the gun, tossing the weapon to the side all I could feel was rage and adrenaline soaring through my veins.

Jumping at another I slam him onto the ground and take hold of his head and twist it to the definite angle to snap his neck. A loud crack echoed through the air as curses and shouts were thrown about as I dodged every bullet that came at me, springing towards another shithead I kick him in the balls, taking his gun I shot him in the head and continued with the others, skidding across the fortunately wet ground I slide out another guy’s feet from under him and kick him into the river sending him into a frenzy as he thrashed about in the water. Standing up I aim the gun at the man and shoot immediately seeing him go limp. Ducking under another’s attempt to strangle me he falls forward as I easily shot him in the chest.

Turning around there was only two remaining and they both had their barrels cocked towards me.

“F/N p-put down the weapon!”

“Say please~!”

“N-No!”

“Tsk wrong answer you prick” I grumble sidestepping a bullet that skimmed my head watching as the pair’s faces turned into ones full of horror. Striding towards them I kick one in the balls and shoot the other in the face completely destroying it.

Shoving the last one to the ground I press the barrel of the gun to his forehead as he begins to plead, rolling my eyes I pull the trigger as blood splatters everywhere.

Turning to the side where an unconscious Floche lay I shot the guy a glare as I walked towards him singing a little tune quietly. Arriving at the male’s side I look down at him with an irritated expression before I loosely aim the weapon to his legs. Firing both shots at his knees the bullets completely shatter his kneecaps.

“Meh.. Whatever... They asked for it.. Never knew I could take out a whole squad of men..” I say strutting past the titan corpse ignoring the fact that it could be alive.

// Time Skip \

It’s been a few days since I set off at the side of the river, the weather was nice yet my clothes were shit and I really wanted to get a nice warm bath. I could see a little building up ahead at the opposite side of the river, thankfully the flow has calmed and it would be easy to get through. But there was a little bridge up ahead so I might as well stay dry while I’m at it.

Crossing the stone bridge I stroll towards the farm, it looked nice and friendly but god knows who could own it really. Stepping up onto the porch I recognise a fairly familiar face..

Historia.

Oh yeah, I forgot she was pregnant.

“F/N? What are you doing here? Are you alright?” the blonde asks standing up as I smile a little and take her into a gentle hug despite the situation with my clothes. “Yeah I’m fine, have you seen... Hanji or Levi near here by any chance? Oh! Can I stay here for a bit to wash up? I’ve just after taking out the trash a few days ago and I really need a wash” I ask as she laughs inwardly and nods motioning for me to follow her. “Of course F/N, and yes I’ve seen Hanji and Captain Levi, they’re both here while Levi recovers” she explains as we step inside.

Hanji peeps around the corner from some other room and she lights up seeing me. “F/N where have you been!? How did you find this place? Are you alright?” the woman asks scurrying over to me as I roll my eyes at her playfully “yeah I’m alright Hanji, more importantly, where is Levi? Is he alright? Is he alive?” I ask as he sighs lightly immediately causing me to panic. Stepping in after seeing me begin to panic Historia places a hand on my shoulder “he’s fine, he’s alive but with some scars and marks, I’m sure he’s awake up there now since he was down here for breakfast earlier” she spoke softly as I release a breath I never knew I was holding in.

“Alright... Thank the fuck..” I smile lightly as Hanji disappears off somewhere into the house, Historia was leading me to the bathroom where I could get a shower and wash up while she got me some spare clothes. Following the blonde up the stairs, we reach the second floor to her home where we walked in a comfortable silence, abruptly stopping outside a random white door that was creaked open ever so slightly she leant up towards my ear and cupped it.

“He’s in there..”

Nodding I smiled at the woman before we continued on, eventually arriving at the bathroom Historia leaves to get me some clothes and tell Levi I had arrived.

// Time Skip \

Drying off and getting into the change of clothes that fit perfectly I threw my dirty outfit into the laundry basket and sauntered out of the bathroom. Attempting to count the doors and which one Levi was resting behind I eventually begun to do eenie-meenie-miney-moh with each one. Childish. Yes, but it did help sometimes.

Sometimes.

Carefully opening a random door I let my gaze wander to a certain raven haired male that sat up in bed holding a book. Flicking his head up towards the door Levi’s face lit up from seeing me as he tossed the book to his side, as I hurried on in and took him in a hug.

“You’re alright! Oh my lord, you gave me the fright of my life mister!” I say as Levi dives his face into the crook of my neck. “I know, I know..” he mumbles. Pulling away that’s when I saw the scars on his face, he has even gone blind in his right eye by the looks of it as well as I paled.

I’m definitely gonna kill whoever did this.

“Who did this to you? Levi I’m going to fucking strangle them” I hiss as Levi scowls “I knew you wouldn’t like them..” he mumbles as my face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait what? What do you mean? I never said I didn’t like them” I was quick to defend myself as Levi sighs and sits back averting his orbs elsewhere in the room.

“I only want to hurt who done this to you… I never said anything about you, in fact, I think these make you hotter” I couldn’t help the tingling blush creep up to my cheeks as Levi examines me to see if I was lying in any way.

I wasn’t.

Rolling his eyes he clicks his tongue and pulls me into his chest, careful not to hurt himself as I wrap my arms around them. “So it’s all looks for you?” he begins as I scoff “damn I never thought you’d see me as that type of girl, should I be offended?” I retort as he pulls me closer. “No, I was only fucking with you” Levi hums as I snuggle into his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

“I missed you F/N..”

“I missed you too Levi..”

[scaryscarecrows]

Conflict of Interest

Some of the Riddler Informants are Militia members. Ouch.

It’s a complete accident that the boss is fucking with the radio at this exact moment. There was…an incident.

By which Antoine means that, in a panic to get out of Scarecrow’s way, a private had bumped into the main radio in the mall headquarters and sent the dial twisting way off. It sounds like they hit a Russian spy network. Oopsies.

The private is currently hiding several rooms away, Scarecrow is muttering darkly about incompetent help, and the boss is attempting to get everything back the way it was. Damage was done. Not serious damage, but damage.

“—swerving through straights!” Riddler gloats, and Antoine hopes he trips and impales himself on a rusty nail. Lockjaw would be a fitting, fitting thing for him. The Knight snorts.

“Like he’d drive any better.”

Huh?

Whatever. This is just going into the pile of ‘things the boss knows that he keeps to himself because nobody’s unlocked his Level Twelve Tragic Backstory’. Humph.

Sports, static-there! That’s Ron…hang on.

That’s not their frequency.

“Sir?”

“I know.”

“—hid that last trophy for my end, headin’ back to base now.”

Trophy? Is that little prick defecting to the Green?

Antoine hopes he shocks himself on one of those damn robots. (Oh, Chito…their love was never meant to be.)

The Knight returns them to the proper frequency and turns around, cocks his head in that way that says he’s entered Little Shit Mode.

“Drouot,” he says, deceptively cheerful, “where is Mister Freeling now?”

Damn. Instant firing.

“Uh, should be in the Cauldron, sir.”

“I’d like to see him. Go pick him up.”

This isn’t going to be pretty, is it.

* * *

Antoine is literally down the street from Ron when the Goddamn Batman plummets from the sky.

It’s over quickly. By the end, when Batman is gone and the street has four new speed bumps, Antoine is stricken with the need to ensure his balls are where they’re supposed to be and not, like, knocked off his body like a punching bag. They’re fine. That guy over there, by the sidewalk? Maybe not. He was on the ground when that punch landed.*

Children are not in his future.

He lifts a shaky hand to his ear and wheezes, “Boss?”

“What.”

“He’s, uh, I don’t…he’s asleep. Due to, uh, the knee of Justice and the knuckles of Pain.”

“What?” There are no better words and he’s not sorry. “Batman?”

Nobody ever died from a little omission.

“Looks like it.”

Silence. In the distance, Scarecrow monologues at the GCPD about fear responses. The giant plant snatches a bird out of the air. Antoine wonders if the sun will ever rise again.

“Bring him back anyway,” the boss decides. “I know how to wake him up.”

That’s ominous.

“Yes, sir.”

Eyes peeled for anything deadly and/or painful, he makes his way down the street, hauls Ron into a fireman’s carry, and dumps him in the APC. They’re en route back to base when the boss comes back on the line.

“Change of plans.”

Fuck no.

“Sir?”

“Take him over to Mercy Bridge.”

Oh, God. This is gonna be one of those times that the boss starts embracing the joys of Irony, isn’t it. Great. Make way for the Drama Queen.

“Yes, sir.”

Mercy Bridge isn’t that far. The boss is there already, leaning against a beam and flipping a knife in his hand. Okay. So he’s probably not, like, overly pissed. That’s his normal fidgety behavior. It’s something.

He’s still kinda pissed, though. He must be. There’s no other explanation for yanking Ron out of the APC that roughly, tying one end of his grappling line to the front bumper, and tying the other end around Ron’s ankles.

“Uh, boss?”

The knots are good, he finds out, when the boss drags Ron to the edge of the bridge-

-and drops him over the edge. Ow. There’s some dislocations for you.

It’s a long way down. That’s only made more apparent by Ron swinging gently in the breeze, dwarfed by the infrastructure around him.

“Boss?”

“He’s fine.” The Knight leans over the edge and Antoine is stricken with the idea that he’ll lose his footing and plummet to his death. “Wake up, Mister Freeling.” He jiggles the line. Ron sways a little faster. “Wake up.”

“Uh, boss,” he says carefully, “that was, erm, he took a. A pretty brutal ass-kicking back there, and, uh…”

“He’s fine.” More jiggling. Ron’s head comes dangerously close to smacking into a nearby support column. “But I don’t have all night.”

He pulls Ron back up, jabs him in the thigh with an adrenaline pen, and shoves him back over the edge. Ron must wake up about halfway down, because there’s now screaming.

“OH GOD—”

“There you are!” The Knight leans over the edge again and waves. “Gotta say, I wasn’t too happy to find you doing the Riddler’s work tonight.”

“How—”

“I have my ways.”

Antoine wonders, about now, how many times the boss has ‘known things’ were actually incidents of accidental discovery. He doesn’t think it’s that many, because he’d have been there for at least some of them, but still.

“It was just once, his guys-th-they jumped me, made me do it, I swear—”

“Stop lying!”

This just might end badly.

But then again, snitches do get stitches. And to be fair, the Knight’s only killed a couple of them, who, uh. Antoine will admit they might have had it coming.

Eh. He’s not going to try and intervene. Ron is probably going to be fine.

Ron, at this exact moment, is blabbering about ‘getting intel on the Riddler’. Which. Seriously. Nobody cares about the Riddler. Batman doesn’t even seem to care! For a while there, every five minutes the guy would come over the broadcast system to complain that Batman was ignoring him. It was almost bad enough that Antoine was considering begging the boss to tell Batman to go deal with the guy, just to shut him up.

Almost.

The Knight seems to be thinking along the same lines, if his exasperated sigh is anything to go off of. Then again, that could be Batman-related; in the distance, there’s a VROOM! and the horrible crunching of buildings being destroyed. Seriously, the guy drives almost as bad as the boss. And to be fair, when your car can crush buildings, why should you stay in your lane?

“So you took initiative,” he says. Ron nods. Well. Maybe. The swaying makes it hard to tell.

“Yessir!”

Another sigh. A few streets away, a building catches fire. Antoine wonders if he really needs to stand here, or if he can wait in the car. Or just leave.

“Sir?” he hedges. “Um. Should we, uh, really be out in the open like this?”

The sheer irritation of the head-tilt answers his question.

“It’s fine.”

“Sorry, sir.”

The Knight hauls Ron back up to solid ground. Antoine has to give it to him, he doesn’t try to lurch away from the edge of the bridge. He does, however, start frantically saying, “I’m sorry, boss, I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t.” Uh-oh. “How stupid do you think I am, Freeling?” Ron’s hefted up and slammed into a nearby pillar. “You’d better hope Riddler has good insurance,” he continues, nodding towards the ankle with the line around it. Said ankle is clearly out of socket and the boss is still holding the line in his hand. “Broken ankles just don’t heal right on their own.”

Broken? It’s not—

Crunch.

Oh. Never mind.

Ron is dropped, wheezing desperately, and they’re going to just…leave him here. Um. Okay?

Okay. Right then. He gives Ron an awkward wave, the kind you give your coworkers as they’re leaving for the last time with their desk contents in an Amazon box, and gets back behind the wheel. Dumb it might be, but there’s a little bit of security that comes with being in the car. There’s a least a little bit of a shield between him and any Batmans plummeting from the sky.

“Back to base, sir?”

Before the boss can answer, the ground starts shaking and to Antoine’s infinite horror, something big and green and floral erupts from the ground near the graveyard in Drescher. No. NO! He has a plant! There is a one monster-plant limit per…per…however many square miles Gotham city is! How many plants does he need? How many does he have?

“Are you kidding me?” He’s half-tempted to stab himself in the thigh, make sure Scarecrow didn’t drug him at some point. “Come on!”

The Knight swears, vigorously and in two languages, before jabbing a finger against his ear and snarling, “Sergeant? There’s a weed grown tall in Divinity Churchyard. Cut it down.” They don’t have to go over there, do they? “Yes. Back to base. The Cloudburst should be nearly charged.”

Oh, yeah. That. Is it bad to hope that it’s broken?

“Yessir.”

“And Drouot.”

“Yessir?”

“Take the scenic route.”

Ah. That’s Knightese for, ‘give the plant a wide berth because it’s scary and probably capable of crushing the car like an aluminum can’. Thank God.

“That was the plan, boss.”

He feels a little bad for abandoning Ron, but he knew the risks. And it’s not like the plant is here. And hey! Batman’s probably going to be near the plant, so he’s not here, either! He’ll be fine. Maybe one of his new coworkers will come and get him.

THE END

*Batman can indeed (appear to) punch a mook inna nuts. I don’t even have them and I feel bad when that happens. Jesus, Bruce, talk about birth control.