#good fucking luck unless you’ve got some better known names behind your

[darkwood-sleddog]

Hi! I came across your post answering an ask ahout your most ✨controversial takes✨ on the world of dogs from back in April.

I read that you thought the AKC should not allow "professional handlers", and saw that you also seemed to distinguish these from breeders and owners. I've never given it much thought, but I think I would've assumed a handler was just another word for "owner" on my own.

What's the difference between these things, and why do you take your stance against handlers?

(I can infer what a breeder is as opposed to the others lmao, so I guess I'm asking about owner vs handler vs "professional" handler)

In dog conformation the dogs are handled by a handler when they go into the ring. This handler does not have to be the owner and in many instances is not. Professional handlers are just what they seem: people that handle dogs at dog shows for a living. A good handler knows how to make the dog look good, not just from a grooming standpoint, but when moving around a ring. Hiring a pro handler outsources this knowledge, time needed, and skill to somebody else.

There are several problems with this for me:

1.) dog shows, especially at the upper levels, are highly politicized. Hiring the ~right~ handler could give your dog the upper hand from a dog of equal or better value handled by somebody “lesser”. It keeps you and your dogs in the in-crowd.

2.) A dog that shows or “campaigns” a lot becomes known to judges, has more opportunities etc. When dogs are shown by professional handlers the owner/breeder is not always going with them and dogs can be on the road with their handlers going to show after show for months and even years at a time. This is not something the average purebred dog owner can afford.

3.) professional handlers are NOT cheap and conformation dog shows aren’t either. Having the monetary means to hire a well respected pro handler is not feasible for most people. This sets the people who already have the means to compete in dog shows and campaign their dogs year round leagues above people who cannot afford this. This further pinches top dog shows into a 1% that is near impossible to break into for new people, people from marginalized backgrounds, young people, etc.

4.) because of the competitive nature of modern dog shows and it becoming a “sport” instead of an evaluation of the quality of breeding stock you get people willing to look the other way on corrective grooming, poor temperaments, non correct structure to have “their people” win, to have their friends win, to have the people they are connected to win. Dog shows are not an even playing ground and very much an unspoken club of who is “in” and “out”. The culture and ability of hiring pros to take your dog around the country, to groom your dog, to show your dog ensures it stays this way.

In my opinion dogs should be lightly bathed and put into the rings with their owners/breeders/co-owners. Nothing more. This would imo, better level the playing ground and provide more equity in the purebred dog world.

[poppywrites41]

Captive Love Chapter 1

Prince!Yoongi x Maid!Reader

AN: this MIGHT turn into an ot7 fic. honestly depends on my mood, i dont rlly have a plan for this so it might not even be completed itself. Here is the first chapter for it. lmk what y’all think!!

If y’all like it, i will keep posting, but I will be busy until May with university assignments.

WARNING: Implied death, cursing, sexual references. There will be more smut and violence to come in future chapters. If anyone is triggered by smut, non-con, death or violence, DO NOT INTERACT ANY FURTHER IN THIS BOOK.

The man watched with cold eyes as the young female body fell from his hold to the floor with a thud. He kneeled down and places his hand on her neck to check for a pulse. When he found no signs of life, he sighed in annoyance, “Fuck...I didn’t even get to try her out yet.” What was her name again? He didn’t know. Well, he didn’t really care. If he is feeling frustrated, there is usually one in his vicinity doing her chores where he can just grab them and do as he pleases. They don’t fight and he likes that, but it has started to get boring. This girl was different. She was probably new and didn’t know what to do, so she had a tiny bit of fight to her. But, she apparently didn’t know how to clean his desk properly, so she got herself a little too hard of a squeeze to the neck.

The prince huffed and went down the hall to let the guards know to remove the body that was in his chambers. They immediately took action, rushing with haste to remove the inconvenience from their majesty’s room. The man walked into the banquet hall where his parents and 6 brothers were eating their dinner.

“Yoongi my daring!” his mother called him over to her, taking his hand, “you must try the elk! Jungkook killed it today and it’s the biggest one anyone has ever shot! It is absolutely delicious!” Yoongi looked over at his youngest brother who had two servant girls on either side of him, begging for his attention. It annoyed Yoongi that Jungkook could just bat an eyelash and would have 5 women at his feet ready to suck his cock. Why the fuck was he so popular? “Nice kill.” he said to the youngest as he sat down next to his second younger brother, Namjoon. Namjoon was one of the brothers he tolerated well. He was a smart man and handsome at that. If he had been born first, he would have been a good king. He also had good luck when it came to fucking.

“Mother,” Yoongi said as he was served a piece of elk with roasted vegetables, “I need a new bedchamber maid.” His mother sighed, “Did you dispose of another one already?! Didn’t she just start last week? Yoongi, this is the 4th one in the past month and a half!” “She couldn’t do her job properly. I did what I had to.” The second eldest prince huffed.

“Mother,” Jimin, the third youngest spoke up, “where are you finding these women? What’s their status?” “I think this last batch came from Hearthfield. A few of the girls were daughters of the noblemen whom we paid handsomely for.” she recalled. Jimin laughed, “That’s your problem! You’ve been getting girls who don’t do that stuff. You need to go to Seaport to find the best girls. That’s were I get my bedchamber maids from. They know how to work, and they know how to properly serve a man.” The queen smiled warmly at her third youngest, “Thank you Jimin. Yoongi, I will send out the guards to Seaport to find more women to work at the castle. You may come down to the courtyard and inspect them. Though you may not pick yet, for they need to be trained.” “Thank you mother,” Yoongi said as he dug into his meal.

“Y/N!” an older male voice called to the girl staring at the sea, “Go help your brother with the crab traps. Remember, females with eggs-“ “get thrown back, males as big as the palm can stay. Got it!” the young girl finished for him, jogging along the dirt path to their dock.

Y/N and her family are fishermen. Well, her stepfather and stepbrother are. Her mother passed away 3 years ago when she was 18 and she never really could recall her own father. Her stepfather wasn’t a bad person. He treated her like a human being, but there was always a wall that she felt he put up around himself. She and her stepbrother tolerated each other when it came to working. He wasn’t the worst person in the world, but he always made it known that he was superior to her. Sometimes she felt like she didn’t belong in her own home, but she enjoys working by the sea. She walked onto the dock where her stepbrother was already going through one of their crab traps. “Hey,” he said, not looking up at her, “you know what to do. Better go fast so we make it back before dark.” Y/N nodded and went to the next crab trap, opening it up and sorting their catch. The sun had begun to set when they finished. Y/N and her stepbrother loaded the wagon with buckets of crab. Her brother got on and started the horse towards the village where the best crabs will be picked to be taken to the royal family. “You go on back. I’ll take them.” her stepbrother said. She nodded and began walking back home. Y/N never thought much of the royal family other than being jealous that they get the best of what they caught. She sometimes wonders what they are like. As she walks back, she closes her eyes and feels the sea wind on her face. She can practically taste the salt in the wind. She’s happy here. She doesn’t need to worry about some royal family. Her life is good.

When Y/N was finally able to spot her home, she saw a group of men in armor with horses in front of her home, conversing with her step dad. She thinks nothing of it and continues her walk. She then notices the head guard hand over a sack of what looked like money to her stepfather. Y/N got excited thinking that maybe the royals were paying their subjects extra money for their good food and ran toward her stepfather. When she arrived, all of the men looked at her. “Is this her?” the guard asked her stepfather. “Yes sir,” he replied, “she does not have much to pack that she would really need there, so she is ready to go whenever.” Y/N looked at her stepfather in confusion, “Where am I going? What do I need to get?” Before he could answer, the guard spoke, “The king and queen sent us out to find young women to serve them in the castle. We seem to have had a drop in servants recently and are paying families to hand over their daughters.” “But you surly must have enough!” she said, sending a pleading look to her father, “we are happy here! I wouldn’t be much help! I only know how to fish!” “Y/N!” her stepfather’s voice increased, “You must go. We have barely had enough money to feed three mouths since your mother died. She would have agreed to this.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her family was giving her up? After all she had done for them? Tears began to well up in her eyes. The guard was the next to speak, “I will give you three minutes. Grab what you can carry, come back out and get into the wagon. We leave for the castle.” Y/N barley nodded and slowly walked into her home to her room. She got a small crossbody satchel and put her small stuffed bear her mom made her in it, her favorite shell and her notebook. She found her mom’s necklace and put it on. It was a simple necklace; a silver pendant that had the words “my love for you is as great as the sea” etched into it. When she came out, her brother had just returned. She looked at him and he avoided her gaze which broke her heart. “Come girl,” the captain said, “We haven’t got all day. We must return this evening.” Y/N nodded and followed his horse to the wagon. When she hopped on, there were only 6 other women. They were very pretty so she felt left out. Granted, Y/N didn’t really have the luxury of having a mirror so she never really knew if she was pretty, not that she cared anyways. She looked back at her home as it slowly disappeared from view, already missing her life on the sea. After what seemed to be a few hours, the group arrived at the gate of a great stone castle. Y/N thought the castle came straight from a fairy tale book.

The wagon was brought into the courtyard where there was an older woman waiting. The girls were lined up in front of her. She walked down the line of young girls, inspecting them. She sighed and turned around to face them all. “Welcome, ladies, to the castle of Bangtan. My name is Lilith and I am your head maid. You all have been chosen to be servants of the royal family. These duties include cleaning the interior of castle, serving food to the royal family at meals or guests during balls, doing their laundry or fetching anything they ask for. There are a few rules you MUST follow; NEVER look a royal in the eye unless told to by one, NEVER speak informally to a royal, only speak when spoken to and NEVER refuse service to a royal. Do what you are told and life will be easy. Now, your training will begin at 7 AM, I will take you to your quarters. I will show you where to meet me in the morning. Come along and do not fall behind.” The girls looked at each other in confusion as they followed the head maid into the castle. Y/N felt someone staring at her but when she looked back, she saw nothing. She quickly followed the group into the doors so that she won’t be left behind.

“So my darling,” the queen said to her second oldest son, “what do you think?” Yoongi huffed as he watched the girl with h/c hair rush to catch up to the group. “She looks like work,” the queen sighed, “hopefully she will last longer than the one who was disposed of three days after arriving.” Yoongi on the other hand was intrigued by the young girl. He couldn’t get a good look at her face, but her posture was different from the other girls. They were making themselves small while she stood tall. She seemed strong, like she had some fight in her. Yoongi is intrigued by that. The queen could see the wheels turning in his head, “Has one already caught your attention my dear?” “There is one that is particularly interesting,” he said folding his arms, “but we will have to see.” “Do not mess with them immediately,” the queen warned, “they need to train and get used to their new environment. Give them a week.” With that she pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked back inside. Yoongi went back to his room and lay down on his bed. He couldn’t get that h/c out of his head. He knew he was not supposed to interact with the new servants until they are properly trained, but what’s training without an actual royal? A smirk played on the prince’s lips as he thought about the next day until he fell asleep.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Part 3! Starring Mini Mammon and Mini Asmo!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Underground Tomb special Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 4

MC names:

Lucifer’s kid=L!MC | Mammon’s kid=M!MC | Asmo’s kid=A!MC

Why did bad things happen to good people? Well... Lucifer being a good person is up to interpretation. He hadn’t done anything too heinous recently, his instruments of torture were collecting dust for goodness sake! So why oh why was he staring down two half demon children who looked suspiciously like two of his brothers?

The first kid to step forward was Mammon’s without a doubt, but their general demeanour was very different from their father’s. Perhaps their other parent had done a good job-

“What the fuck was that?!”

Never mind. The kid had Mammon’s pottymouth.

The other child surveyed the scene with a nervousness that their suspected parent never possessed. The kid’s gaze fell on Lucifer, their eyes began to glow ever so slightly. “Uh-um...” the kid cleared their throat. “Someone explain what’s going on!”

Was this child seriously trying to use manipulation powers on Lucifer? He almost laughed at the mere idea of someone trying. The child didn’t even seem to be aware that they were doing it. When their question was met with blank stares, they instantly shrank back and practically hid behind the first half demon. Despite the severe self-esteem difference, this kid was Asmodeus’.

Lucifer’s own child cleared their throat and smiled. “Welcome to the Devildom!”

The Uncle That Looks Like he Has his Shit Together but he Leaves the Reunion Drunk off his Rocker (Lucifer)

Ah shit here we go again-

Okay- okay. Normally he’d scold L!MC for taking Diavolo’s line, but Dia had recovered from his shock and was now gushing over the new exchange students like an excited puppy.

“Okay... L!MC you’re going to need to share your room.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Unless Belphie is willing to give up the attic as a nap spot-”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“You’re sharing your room.”

RAD was buzzing with gossip for the entire first month of the second attempt at the exchange program. The threats of being eaten were once again stamped out very quickly.

(Special thanks to L!MC for being a good bodyguard)

Now, Lucifer didn’t exactly know what to expect when it came to the child of his favourite brother. Mammon was a dumbass, but this kid... this kid...

Was smart.

For the first time in Lucifer’s very long life he felt compelled to place someone in a higher echelon than himself.

Mammon’s child managed to successfully budget that dumpster fire of a house. On the first fucking day. Not only that. This kid managed to skim FIVE THOUSAND GRIMM OFF THE TOP AND THE BUDGET STILL WORKED! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT-

Lucifer and Mammon thanked whatever spirit was watching over them because they truly believed their financial woes were over.

Shame that M!MC also spent their money on dumb stuff they didn’t need. Like father like child.

It’s no secret that Lucifer does have a bit of a soft spot for Asmo, I mean, who doesn’t love Asmo? But A!MC was a blessing sent right from the Celestial Realm.

They were just... too sweet. Way too sweet. Lucifer was actively getting cavities just being near them.

Anyone who bothered A!MC and M!MC during the first month ended up getting... uh... suspended.

(We can assume the threat of suspension would have extended to those who bothered L!MC but all the lesser demons were already terrified of them.)

Normally when Lucifer called someone into his study it was to lecture them for at least four hours and then send them to their rooms, but he was having quite the difficult time actually being upset with M!MC and A!MC.

A!MC looked close to tears and M!MC just stared right back at Lucifer with little to no fear in their eyes.

“Starting a fight during the first week of school is not how I expected the exchange students to behave.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, and prepared to continue the lecture, when he heard a sniffle. There wasn’t enough Demonus in the entire Devildom...

“I-I’m s—sorry...” A!MC sniffled, quickly wiping at their eyes. “Th-they were being r-really scary and we did-didn’t know what else to do...”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“I threw them out of the window.” M!MC huffed. “They were bein’ a dick.”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“That um...” A!MC mumbled. “That’s not all... I may have... told them to stick their head in a toilet first...”

“You made them stick their head in a toilet,” Lucifer turned to M!MC. “And then you threw them out of a window?”

“Yes.” M!MC and A!MC replied. Lucifer downed the rest of his glass of Demonus and debated whether or not it would be a show of weakness to slam his forehead into the desk in front of the children.

Lucifer looked between the two for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “It’s my job to deal with threats to the exchange students, not yours.” Lucifer stood in front of the two, he rested his hands on their heads and gave them a quick pat, before knocking their heads together. “Next time someone bothers you, tell me. If I hear even a whisper of you two getting into another fight, I’m hanging you from the ceiling. Is that clear?”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other, then back at Lucifer and nodded. “Yes sir!”

“Good.” Lucifer removed his hand from their heads. “Now shoo.”

Flying lessons for the two of them went way quicker than it did for L!MC, mainly because L!MC was a way better teacher.

As much as Lucifer loved his newly found niblings, he couldn’t show it too much. Outward softness was reserved for L!MC and L!MC only. M!MC and A!MC were stuck with silent acts of affection.

Every once and a while a little present or two would end up in M!MC or A!MC’s possession. Some ice cream money for M!MC when they blew their part of the budget on fancy sunglasses, a multiplayer video game that the three half-demons could play together, new shoes when A!MC accidentally ruined their’s...

He’s a good uncle. A scary uncle. But a good uncle. ^_^

(Don’t tell him I said that, I’m still in trouble for advertising Mammon’s escape Go Fund Me and I don’t want to have to write the rest of this HC hanging upside down.)

He’s Not Like the Other Dads, he’s a Cool Dad! (Mammon)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (Fear)

He’s a dad?! HE’S TO YOUNG TO BE A DAD! Hang on- he’s over five thousand years old...

Oh would you look at that! His kid pulled out a calculator.

...his annual income? Uh... why do you- HEY! WHAT’S WITH THAT FACE?!

M!MC puffed out their cheek as they continued to add the ever growing list of numbers into the calculator. Mammon was trying to get a peak at what they were calculating. M!MC suddenly looked up and practically lit up the room with their smile. Aw, their fangs were growing in!

They had a devilishly charming smile, just like their pop! A real chip off the old block! It almost brought a tear to Mammon’s eye and he actually felt compelled to give this kid all the money he had on him. Maybe even his Rolex too!

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed,” M!MC said sweetly. “My... dad.”

“Yep! That’s uh... that’s me!” Mammon awkwardly ruffled his kid’s hair, the kid laughed good naturedly.

M!MC’s sweet as honey smile flipped from elated to malicious in a manner of nanoseconds. “You owe over thirteen years of child support. Dad.”

Everyone say thank you to Lucifer and Diavolo for getting M!MC to compromise and not try and sue their father.

If you thought Mammon spoiled L!MC you’ve got another thing coming. Mammon’s wallet never stood a chance against his kid.

Poor Goldie, press F to pay respects.

Mammon also tried to teach A!MC and M!MC to drive, M!MC has no regard for their safety, the safety of others, or the laws of the road, buuuuuuuut they manage to get the car back with no dents and no property damage bills are being delivered to the house sooooo...

A!MC can drive fine... it’s just that they adhere to literally every law known to demonkind, which means neither Mammon or Asmo are allowed to open up the sunroof and do that movie thing where they pop their heads out and yell something. ITS NOT SAFE!

Our beloved dummy also tried to teach his kid how to play poker, with... limited success.

“Aw, come on kiddo.” Mammon smirked, flicking his kid on the nose. “Your poker face is awful, I can also see your cards from here.”

M!MC growled and held their cards closer to their face. “My poker face is fine!” It was in fact, not fine.

Mammon scratched his head and thought for a moment. Was he sure that this kid was his? I mean, they weren’t good at poker, had terrible luck in blackjack and roulette, and could barely understand the rules of craps. Craps! While he was lamenting the loss of possible gambling winnings, an idea hit Mammon at a thousand miles an hour.

“Hey kid, you’re damn good at math like your great and amazin’ father, have you ever thought about learnin’ how to count cards?”

Fancy outfits on, hair done (sorta), car ready, the two were off to the casino after quite the intense training montage. It appeared that casinos in the Devildom allowed children inside... Diavolo should really fix that.

“Okay M!MC, you remember what to do, right?”

“Yes. Remember the signal, and if someone catches on, deny deny deny.”

Mammon gave his kid a slap on the back. “Damn straight! You got this, bud.”

As the night dragged on, M!MC and Mammon had made their weight in money, paper money, they had made a SHIT ton is what I’m saying. Tragically, neither the Avatar of Greed or his child had any sense to leave before their luck crashed like the Stock Market in 1929.

They were both Icarus, and they were playing chicken with the sun... and by 3 am they were also playing chicken with security.

“GO GO GO!” Mammon shouted as he and M!MC sprinted towards the car, the night’s winnings in hand.

“I think I lost a shoe!” M!MC gasped as they scrambled into the car, security on their heels.

“I’ll buy you new shoes JUST PUT ON YOUR SEATBELT!”

Re-enacting every Fast and the Furious movie in twenty minutes was how that lovely night of father/child bonding should have ended... until they got home and realized they were locked out.

“The window to my room!” M!MC whispered, pointing up at their window. “It’s usually unlocked, we can climb up to get to it.”

“Good idea!”

M!MC tucked the bag full of their precious money under their arm and began the climb to their window, their father close behind. They had almost made it, they were so close, M!MC could literally touch the window-

The window swung open and the smiling faces of L!MC and A!MC greeted them.

“Oh my, it looks like we have some delinquents breaking curfew~.” L!MC cooed, resting their head on their hand.

“You shouldn’t be gambling this late! A-and your accessories don’t match!” A!MC huffed.

“Oi! L!MC, A!MC! What are ya doin’ up this late! It’s not good for ya!” Mammon whisper-yelled.

“My sleep schedule should be the least of your concerns right now, right A!MC?” L!MC elbowed A!MC, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep! Those who break curfew are hung from the ceiling by their toes.” A!MC shuddered.

M!MC rolled their eyes and stuck out their hand. “Come on L!MC! Let us in! You should listen to your older cousin!”

Upon hearing M!MC pull the older cousin card L!MC smiled deviously, grabbing both of M!MC’s hands. “Of course, dear cousin.” They leaned in. “Long live the king!”

L!MC shoved M!MC downward, Mammon caught them, but lost his own grip and they both lost hold of the money, which fell out of the bag and onto the ground like snow. Paper snow...

Oh well, at least Mammon and M!MC landed in some of the bushes...

“Ya know,” Mammon said as the money fell around them. “I’ve had dreams where this has happened.”

“Wow,” M!MC smiled. “Me too!”

Yep. This was his kid alright.

Not all his father/kid time revolved around money, it also revolved around both of them trying to avoid horror movie night without making it look like they were chickening out.

“Okay, I’ll fake a medical emergency!”

“Kid, no! They’ll never believe that!”

Since A!MC had their father’s eye for fashion and none of the judgemental comments, the kid became Mammon’s unofficial style coach.

“U-um... I hate to say it but those shoes don’t match with the rest of the outfit, the silhouette is confusing...”

“What’re ya talkin’ about? I look fantastic!”

“Are you blind? You look like a thrift store threw up on you.”

“Who invited you, Asmo?!”

“I’m here to support A!MC! You’re doing great by the way, sweetie!”

He may have cried a little when M!MC was able to fly without help... sniffle... they grow up so fast...

Oh- oh fuck they both crashed into the tree-

Oh My God he Actually Showed Up?! (Levi)

That... that couldn’t be real life! A shut-in’s worst nightmare! More people he needed to talk to!

Considering Mammon and Asmo’s track record with taking care of his things, Levi was incredibly hesitant to invite the two to binge anime with him and L!MC.

It seemed that the two normies inherited their fathers’s level of respect for closed doors. What I’m saying is the two crashed anime night.

“I have never seen such bullshit before.”

M!MC’s hands were stuffed in about five pairs of socks each, effectively turning their hands into useless nubs.

“You be quiet! This is to make sure that you don’t take any of my things and try and sell them on Akuzon!” Levi hissed, turning back to make sure his figurines were safe from the mini Mammon. A!MC was standing awkwardly next to L!MC, who was sitting in Levi’s gaming chair reading manga.

“So what are we going to watch..?” A!MC piped up. “I haven’t really watched much anime but I did watch Digimon...”

“I was more of a Beyblade kid.” M!MC hit their sock-stumps together to make a thumping noise.

Levi looked like he was ready to have a stroke. “L-listen! Those are gateway anime! You two need to watch proper anime! Non-dubbed anime!”

A!MC let out a shriek and stared at their reflection in a very shiny looking gundam figurine. “Have I been wearing off colour lip gloss the entire day?! O-oh no... I’m a mess!”

Levi let out a strangled wail and snatched the gundam out of A!MC’s hands. “D-don’t touch that! It’s worth more than a house!”

“It is?!” M!MC perked up and tried to wrestle their way out of their sock-gloves.

“Don’t make me stick you in a straight jacket...” Levi growled. He turned to L!MC with a pleading look on his face. “Please make them stop...”

L!MC grinned deviously and closed their book. “Of course I’ll help you, if we watch season two of The Promised Neverland.”

Levi shrieked and nearly pulled out his hair then and there. “It’s manga divergent! MANGA DIVERGENT! THEY SKIPPED SO MANY ARCS!”

M!MC and A!MC continued to wreak both purposeful and accidental havoc on Levi’s room, he was just about ready to summon Lotan then and there when L!MC shrugged.

“The ball’s in your court, Levi.” L!MC leaned back in the chair and resumed reading their manga.

Levi’s willpower shattered the moment he heard something fall off one of his cabinets. “WE CAN WATCH WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST MAKE THEM STOOOOOP!”

Quick as a flash, L!MC was out of the chair and had both M!MC and A!MC by the ears.

“HEY!” L!MC growled. “STOP ACTING LIKE IDIOTS OR SO HELP ME GRANDFATHER YOU TWO WON’T LIVE TO SEE GRADUATION!”

M!MC and A!MC became the most well behaved children in the Devildom after that... and L!MC and Levi got to watch their anime in peace.

Okay, Levi wasn’t heartless, he loved his lame normie niblings. They were just very very loud...

Though, M!MC was very good at finding merch for way lower prices... and A!MC actually really liked some of the anime they watched... Maybe they weren’t so bad.

M!MC’s attempts to budget that financial dumpster fire of an otaku was not going well, at least until M!MC convinced Lucifer to dangle concert tickets in front of Levi like a carrot on a stick until he agreed to do his best to stay within the monthly budget.

Levi had learned his lesson from L!MC’s flying lessons and steered clear of them, but luck was not on his side. The ONE time he willingly stepped outside of the house...

Both M!MC and A!MC crashed right into him.

The Uncle With the Cat You Never See and Aren’t Really Allowed to Pet. (Satan)

Oh fuck him sideways the house was going to be so much louder... Say goodbye to his quiet reading time...

On the bright side, the look of pure disbelief and exhaustion on Lucifer’s face gave Satan the biggest rush of serotonin he’d ever had in his life.

To be honest, he got on well with Asmo, and he... well it’s Mammon.

Could have been worse.

Could have been ANOTHER child of Lucifer.

“So... who do you think did it?” M!MC asked as the opening to the fourth episode of the murder documentary they were watching began. “I think it was the sister.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” Satan asked.

M!MC shrugged. “Chick’s shifty.”

“I um... I think they disappeared on their own accord.” A!MC murmured. “I mean, so far it seemed the two’s home lives sucked...”

“Good theory.” Satan nodded to himself. “But both of you are wrong, it was very clearly the mother and the neighbour.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” L!MC asked, imitating Satan’s voice. Detective Toe Beans was sprawled out on their lap.

Satan glowered at L!MC and leaned over to scratch Bean behind the ears. “The step-mother and neighbour are backing up each other’s alibis and they have a motive, access to a possible murder weapon, and a way of disposing of the corpses.”

L!MC rolled their eyes. “That’s a load of crap. It was just the step-mother. The mother had the motive, she and the father were on the outs, she wanted the father’s inheritance all to herself so she got rid of his kids.”

“How many more episodes of this are there?” M!MC asked. “This seems like a really dragged out way of just saying: I don’t know.”

“Sh! They’re explaining possible corpse disposal methods!” Satan hissed.

The four of them traded theories until the documentary series eventually ended with an unsatisfying ‘we dunno’.

“This is such shit...” M!MC muttered. “How have they managed to fill eight episodes with all these leads and evidence and the case is still unsolved?!”

“It’s because everyone involved was incompetent and stupid.” Satan sighed.

“You know,” L!MC smirked. “With all the true crime stuff the four of us watch, we could create the perfect crime.”

“We really could.” M!MC nodded in agreement.

“Using A!MC’s powers no one would suspect us...” Satan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Uh...” A!MC shifted uncomfortably. “On an unrelated note... I’m going to go...”

As A!MC scampered out of the room, L!MC turned to Satan and M!MC.

“There’s always the one weak person in the group who’s not down with murder.”

“A sad truth.”

“Hang on I thought we were talking about theft or something-”

Satan and M!MC are surprising study buddies, hell, they even help Mammon study. Or... it’s more accurate to say that they try to help Mammon study.

A!MC is good company, they’re quiet when they read, unlike most people in the house who felt the need to provide commentary on every single event that occurs in the book.

After proving to be quite useless in L!MC’s flight lessons, he just reminded the two new half demons to wear protective padding.

The Hot Single Dad That’s In Every Romcom That Features a Child (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (excitement)

Oh... his... father... HE WAS A DILF NOW-

He practically vaulted out of his seat to coo and fuss over his new found hellspawn, they were just SO CUTE!

Their wings were just like his! So adorable! Oh and those little horns! They were so cute Asmo just might have combusted then and there.

Of course, he couldn’t combust without finding out which of his flings had made such an adorably shy mini-him.

“Ah! I remember that party!” Asmo squee-ed as he looked at a picture of A!MC’s parent. “They looked so hot in that outfit I swear I was completely-”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer grumbled. “That’s a child in front of you.”

“Oh! Right! Mind if I call your ren, A!MC?” Asmo asked, ruffling their kid’s hair. “I want to see if they remember me fondly!”

As Asmo chattered with A!MC’s parent about just how adorable and perfect their kid turned out, Asmo leaned over to A!MC to ask a question.

“A!MC, I know this is sudden but how do you feel about getting a sib-”

“ASMODEUS IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I WILL FEED YOU TO CERBERUS!”

“Tsk. Rude.”

It’s safe to say Asmo adores his kid. I mean, they’re 50% him, how could he not.

He didn’t exactly have experience with the whole... being a big part of his kids’s life thing. Sure he held the unofficial record for most kids but that was because effective birth control hadn’t been invented at the time when he was allowed to run rampant in the human world, not because he was an A+ dad.

None of that mattered! He was going to be a 10/10 dad to A!MC!

They were so shy... so... mouse-like...

“Um... dad?” A!MC awkwardly twiddled there thumbs as they stood in the doorway to their father’s room. The sweet smell of whatever essential oil was being spread with the diffuser did next to nothing to calm the poor half-demon’s nerves.

Asmo popped his head out of his walk-in closet with a sparkling smile. “Yes, child of mine?”

“I um, just wanted to ask...” A!MC was desperately trying to stave off an oncoming stutter-spiral. “H-h-how- *ahem* how do- ugh...”

A!MC steeled their face and straightened their posture.

“How do I be confident like you?!” They blurted that out a little too loud for comfort, but Asmo’s near-immediate joy quashed any embarrassment A!MC was feeling.

“You want to be like little ol’ me?” Asmo gushed, clearly trying to hide just how flattered he was. “Well, of course you do! Your dad’s got your back. So first what we’re going to do-”

The Avatar of Lust had done the stereotypical early 2000s movie makeover many times before, but never with so much enthusiasm. His kid’s style was fine, it wasn’t a lack of pizazz either, it was the lack of confidence in the pizazz.

“Okay, now stand up straight.”

A!MC straightened their back as much as they could.

“Perfect! Chin up, shoulders back, and there you go!”

A!MC didn’t look too different on account that Asmo felt like their fashion sense was perfect, but dear not-old dad coached MC on a new walk, better posture, and Asmo filled their arms with about seven boxes of self-care supplies.

“What’s all this for?” A!MC asked, shifting the weight of the boxes slightly so they could actually see their dad.

“That, A!MC, is all the stuff you need to have confidence.” Asmo explained. “It’s not required of course, but it sure does help.”

“I’m not sure I follow...”

“Oh sweetie, it’s simple really. When you take care of yourself, you feel better, and when you feel better, you look better, and when you look better and feel better, your confidence skyrockets!” Asmo shifted some of the boxes A!MC was carrying around so they could stand up straighter and not be held down by the weight of the self-care arsenal. “Good posture stops your back from hurting, dressing decently helps you feel better about your appearance, as does taking care of your skin, aaaaaand all this will culminate in you being your best!”

A!MC still looked a bit skeptical, but they nodded anyway.

“Remember MC!” Asmo said as he led MC back to their room to help them sort their new stuff. “Confidence in yourself doesn’t happen overnight, so don’t let Mammon try and sell you a fix-all potion because it’s just boiled Gatorade.”

“O-okay- wait did you just say-”

“Yes, boiled Gatorade.” Asmo shuddered. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Dear uncle Asmo? A financial dumpster fire?! It’s more likely than you’d think.

Sure, Asmo’s got a job and makes his own money, but Geez Louise... one demon does not need that much hand cream! Or that many questionable Akuzon packages that everyone is too afraid to touch...

M!MC had their work cut out for them is what I’m trying to say.

Of course... once M!MC realized what a lost cause getting Asmo to stop with the obsessive bath bomb purchases was and a few too many insults were thrown at M!MC’s dear dad... some of Asmo’s things went uh... “missing”

But would you look at that! No one went over-budget!

Even though their dads have a fierce party related rivalry, A!MC and M!MC get along great. It’s very wholesome.

The Uncle That Helps You Pester Whoever is in Charge of the Food at the Family Reunion About Dessert (Beel)

Yay! More kids :)

Do you think any of them know how to cook? No? Okay... :(

Beel adores his new niblings with all his heart and soul, and Belphie’s out of the attic and is able to meet them with everyone else this time! Yay!

I didn’t mention this in the other parts- but Beel totally gave L!MC piggyback rides whenever they asked, but now that two more kids have arrived... it’s now a fight to be tall.

But yea- kids like uncle Beel. Strong contender for favourite uncle.

“Do you think this is right?” A!MC asked as they fiddled with the settings on the stovetop.

“No clue. Do we put the cheese on while the meat is cooking or do we wait until after?” M!MC asked, they flipped through multiple cheeseburger recipes on their DDD, their frustration growing. “Hang on- do we have a deep fryer?”

A!MC rummaged around the cupboards and shelves for a good fifteen minutes and came back empty handed. “No, but I’ve seen videos of people making fries without a deep fryer, I think we just need to heat up vegetable oil and drop the potatoes in.”

After setting up the make-shift deep fryer, the two cousins carefully dropped the first fry into the oil, then screamed like banshees when some oil splashed close to their hands.

“Did you get burned?!” M!MC asked, A!MC shook their head.

“No, you?”

“Nah...” M!MC eyed the oil warily. “We should do this one at a time to be safe...”

It was an awkward process, grab potato, place potato, scream, make sure no one is burned, repeat. As... decent as the process was, with both of them manning the deep fryer, no one was manning the patties that were now completely charred.

“What’s going on in here? It smells like Solomon’s cooking.” Beel poked his head into the kitchen and saw two very upset children and the world’s messiest kitchen.

“We’re failures. That’s all...” M!MC murmured.

“We wanted to make lunch for all of us and we ruined it...” A!MC added.

Beel’s heart was set to explode then and there- but his stomach growled. “You tried your best, don’t feel too bad. Let’s get cheeseburgers somewhere else with Belphie.”

M!MC and A!MC nodded enthusiastically as the three of them left the destroyed kitchen behind them.

After Beel had to sling a sleeping Belphie over his shoulder, the now four of them were halfway out the door before they heard L!MC scream bloody murder.

“YOU IDIOTS COME BACK HERE AND CLEAN THIS MESS UP RIGHT NOW!”

M!MC and A!MC made eye contact, then sprinted out the door. “CHEESEBURGERS FIRST!”

A!MC and M!MC probably go to all of Beel’s games like the little super fans they are. Beel is very grateful for the support! :D

Flying lessons? Nnnnnot again. He’s here for moral support and moral support only. And to catch the two babs when they inevitably fall.

The Uncle Who Was Like... Really Racist the Last Time You Saw Him But He’s Not Anymore (Belphie)

So he uh... he didn’t try and kill these two. That already gave the two newbies a better first impression than what he gave to L!MC.

The Anti Lucifer league ALSO grew, just by one member though. A!MC was very easily persuaded to snitch on whatever prank the group concocted.

The attic nap club gained two new members, but Belphie still had to deal with wings hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’d usually return the favour with a swat from his tail.

“M!MC I swear I will throw you out of the window if you kick me again.” Belphie murmured, mashing his face into his pillow.

“Mmmph.” M!MC threw a pillow in Belphie’s direction.

“Quit whining, Belphie.” L!MC huffed. “You’re doing better than me.”

A!MC had attached themselves to L!MC like a sloth to a tree and would not let go or stop drooling. Ah schadenfreude, the best feeling in the galaxy...

“Stop with that look.” L!MC hissed, Belphie snickered. “I’m telling you to quit it because you’ll wake up Beel, and Beel is solving your M!MC problem.”

Belphie turned to see Beel practically crush M!MC into a bone breaking hug in his sleep.

“Should we do something about that?” L!MC yawned.

Belphie smirked his little douchebag smirk. “Eh, let them stew for a few more minutes.”

“Help me...” M!MC rasped.

Out of the three, A!MC is probably the best nap buddy, they bring in their own pillows and don’t hog the blankets.

Belphie is once again at the forefront for taking videos of the flying lessons, at least till M!MC accidentally broke Belphie’s DDD.

Just a friendly reminder, the sleepy cow man would kill for these kids.

Look at them funny and no one will find your body.

Okay! That’s part 3 done! I had to cut Belphie’s and Satan’s short because of post limit stuff, but the stuff with the side characters is coming soon! Also, Mammon would like me to inform all those who donated to his Go Fund Me that you will NOT be getting your money back, he has a kid to deck out in full Gucci now, he needs the cash!

[robinofinashiro]

“look, i know we don’t know each other that well, but i’m still worried about you. no one deserves to be alone.” 

characters: hoshiumi kourai x fem! reader / slight miya atsumu

request status: OPEN / please send any reqs you guys have! my inbox is currently empty and im lacking in any kind of writing inspiration...like seriously lacking lmao. there could be a part two if any of you are interested in one. 

you looked at your now ex boyfriend, trying to keep your tears at bay. the two of you were standing outside the bar, not knowing what you were planning on saying the man you loved as you saw him with a girl on his lap, laughing and giggling at whatever he was saying. 

“you could’ve just broken up with me, it would have saved me time and effort,” you told him with a stone cold face. you could tell Atsumu was in a straight panic, not knowing what to say or do, “honestly, I would have handled the break up a lot better than you would have assumed I would have.” 

Atsumu reached out to grab your hand but you quickly snatched it back, putting it behind your back, “no, you don’t get the right to hold any part of me anymore. whatever you were doing, do it with the girl you were just with,” you exclaimed, a laugh of bitterness leaving you, “but I don’t want that girl, I want you!” he yelled. 

you rolled your eyes, not believing a word he was saying, “no, you wanted a girl to fuck with on the side while I waited for you at home. you’re just angry you got caught, Miya, that’s all,” you stated. Atsumu felt stray tears falling down his face as you noticed a familiar face with snow white hair popping out of the front of the door. 

“as wrong as this is to say, I was always preparing myself for this. my grandmother always said to have a envelope of cash and money as runaway money in case I ever needed to get away...” you played with you finger nails before looking up to him for one final time, “I’ll be moved out in a few days. the apartment is under your name and I don’t mind getting a new place,” you added on. 

Atsumu saw you walking away, not believing that you were actually leaving him. he grabbed your ankle, practically putting on a scene for everyone who was hanging out in the front of the building, “Atsumu, this is embarrassing for you. quit it while you still have some dignity left, jesus christ,” you said not realizing the mantrum that he was throwing, “you really should’ve thought this all out before you decided to cheat. I always had one rule and you knew it. I could quickly replace you as fast as we got together and this was your one chance.”

you kicked yourself out of his grip, walking into the bar to have yourself a drink. you saw the girl who was on Atsumu’s lap not wanting to look you in the eye as she sat on her chair in shame, “enjoy him girlie because as you can tell, he’ll quickly replace you when he gets bored,” you tipped your glass of dark liquor to her in a ‘good luck’ type of way before finding an empty seat. 

that familiar snow white hair you saw earlier happened to be Hoshiumi who was walking towards you. you being the former Inarizaki manager made you know the names to the most popular players from each team they played so Hoshiumi was no stranger. 

“hey,” you heard his voice say over the music. you gave him a smile with a small wave, not wanting to say, “you okay? I accidentally overheard your situation with Atsumu earlier,” he asked, pulling the seat out from the other side of the table.

you shrugged knowing that all the raw emotions from the argument and what you just had saw hadn’t settled in yet, “I don’t know,” you said truthfully, “my boyfriend of three years was cheating on me and if I’m okay right now, I know I won’t be tomorrow,” you explained. 

Hoshiumi nodded understandingly, “do you mind if I sit with you for the rest of the night?” he asked quietly, in a sort of shy way, which was odd considering Hoshiumi was just as hyperactive as Hinata Shoyo from Karasuno way. “look, i know we don’t know each other that well, but i’m still worried about you. no one deserves to be alone.”  

you felt that pang in your heart as you saw the warmness on Hoshiumi’s smile. you tried to contain your tears as best as you could but Hoshiumi saw right through that. he tracked down the waitress and ordered the two of you another round of drinks, your choice of course as he tried to focus the conversation on anything that wasn’t Atsumu or your breakup. 

- 

from that night forward, Hoshiumi was by your side for the entirety of your breakup. he was of help when you needed an extra hand to move all your things out of your shared apartment with Atsumu. 

it didn’t sit right with Atsumu at the fact that Hoshiumi was seemingly close to you all of a sudden. he had saw him that night at the bar but he didn’t think he would take advantage of the situation and so quickly. never once in the entirety of your relationship with Atsumu did you ever mention befriending Hoshiumi and so closely but seeing the way he was helping you move out and making sure you were okay threw him way the hell off. 

once you were finished taking your things out of the apartment, you looked to Atsumu and wiggled the set of keys that were on your keychain out. you gave him one last look before handing them to him, “so I take it that you won’t accept the job with the Jackals?” he asked. 

“I think you know that answer, Miya.” 

you walked out of the apartment, leaving a teary eyed Atsumu at the door as Hoshiumi waited for you at the front of the building. your place a few minutes farther from Atsumu’s place. it wasn’t as nice of a place in comparison to how you used to live but it would do until you found a job.

“what are you plans now?” Hoshiumi asked as he helped you unpack things from the box. you shrugged again, “I really don’t know. Atsumu had gotten me a job with the Jackals and those were plans for quite a while but considering that relationship is long gone, I guess I really have to start looking for a job before I go broke.” 

Hoshiumi laughed, feeling his phone buzz multiple times. he looked down to see a few texts from Ushijima and Kageyama. to your luck, the Adlers had also gotten a job opening for a few positions with a team. Hoshiumi had mentioned to the team that he knew someone that could possibly take the position of the old manager and they had been grilling him about it since. 

the pre-season was about to start and they needed an experienced manager and quick. considering your qualifications with Inarizaki and the degree you got in college, he knew you would do well on the job and all you would need is a bit of polishing up in order to be great if not even better than their former manager. 

“listen, I don’t know how willing you will be to accept what I’m about to say but Schweiden has an opening for a positions and one of them is to be the team’s manager and assistant. I might’ve pushed your name because I know you’ve done the managerial position before and we need a manager as soon as possible.” 

your eyes doubled down in confusion as Hoshiumi showed you the hiring paper. you quickly skimmed it down seeing that you had the qualifications for the job. you saw that it was a text from Kageyama Tobio that read if you had accept the position yet before their coach killed them. 

“wait, how long would I be there?” you asked, gripping his phone. you looked at you, now slightly confused himself, “what do you mean? you’d be there as long as you want or until you quit. the position is permanent.” you read the application again and smiled, “I just got this place but tell them I’ll be available for an interview at any time.” 

Hoshiumi tackled you into a hug, his hyperactive attitude running rampant again, “THANK YOU! THANK YOU! the team is gonna be so happy, I know it!” he exclaimed, quickly dialing his coaches number as you sat there, taking in your all new reality. 

+ 

after a run through of a few interviews, the Adler’s ultimately gave you the position as their manager and assistant. they found you the most suitable as you had experience under your belt and got along with most of the team. well...as best as you could considering Kageyama and Ushijima weren’t really the talkative type to begin with. 

the move to Tokyo was a bit easier than expected. Hoshiumi quickly helping you into your new apartment as he showed you around the Adler’s gym and even the town when he wasn’t busy. you had your own office since you were assisting the team’s coach with a few office related things but most of your duties were strictly to the team. 

with your new job came new team photo’s for the year as well as your organizations employee id photo. your uniform consisted of black leggings or athletic shorts if Tokyo was particularly hot that day and a Schweiden sweater/t-shirt on game day. on non-game days where you had to be in your office, the general uniform was business casual unless it was Friday’s where you could wear your game day uniform. 

the team photo day was around the corner and the Adler’s even had a few professional makeup artist for anyone who wanted to have their makeup done for the photos. Hoshiumi and to your surprise, Kageyama, landed in the makeup chairs right next to you as they both wanted to be concealed so their under eye bags weren’t as prominent. 

“you ready for the pics?” Hoshiumi asked with an excited smile. you nodded just as excitedly, “working in volleyball again feels so weird but I can’t wait for the season to start!” you exclaimed as Hoshiumi gave you a high-five in agreement. 

unbeknownst to you but known to the entire team, Hoshiumi had fell entirely head over heels for you. his heart eyes weren’t a secret to anyone besides you and if everyone was being honest, they really wanted Hoshiumi to get a move on with asking you out so he could stop coming to practice with a lovesick puppy look on his face. 

after all of you were called to the gym to take the photos, they had all the players and coaching staff take their photos first before any managers and front office staff had their turns. while you waited for your turn, you were talking with the other manager so was an ex player of the team and had recently retired due to permanent injury to his arm. 

“so how do you know Hoshiumi?” he asked as he saw the wave Hoshiumi was giving you. you smiled and waved back, “he was a friend of mine through high school and we just kept in contact since. Kourai and I are basically best friends if I’m being honest,” you explained. 

he gave you a look before giving out a belly laugh, “just best friends? you have to got to be kidding. there’s more to your relationship with Hoshiumi than just best friends,” he admitted. you were a bit taken back by his answer as you asked him to explain, “come on, it’s not obvious? the decoy is in love with you. he follows you everywhere and has heart eyes for you and I can sense the feeling either is mutual or it’s starting to be on your end.” 

you sat in silence, debating whether or not what he was saying was true. you had never taken into account romantic feelings Hoshiumi could have for you and vice versa. you knew deep down, you did harbor feelings for Hoshiumi but up until this point, you had never put it to the forefront of your brain. 

“managers! it’s your turns now!” the photographer said. you nodded, going up to the small set up they had. 

they had you do a bunch of different poses. one photo of just you smiling, another of you holding a volleyball, and a few with the other manager on the team. they had informed you that this year, they would be displaying team player photos along with head manager photos in the front of building, right outside of the gym to show appreciation to the entire team. 

after the photo’s were finished, your head was still playing the conversation you had earlier. the idea of dating Hoshiumi did not sound so bad in the long run and you knew that it now wouldn’t come off as a surprise if you did in fact show feelings to him. 

“Kou, what are you doing tonight?” you asked as he helped you with your bag after practice. he shook his head, saying nothing, “wanna come over? I wanna pig out on food before the season officially starts,” you giggled seeing his excited face as he grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you over to his car, exclaiming you both could get food and snacks. 

the night came down to you watching a few movies from both of your childhood and basically talking/snacking the night away. it eventually got to the point where you moved closer to Hoshiumi, trying to find warmth as your AC was on full blast and you both were too lazy to get the blankets you had underneath your couch to actually get warm. 

“hey Kou,” you said, trying to get his attention. he looked down to you, a warm smile on his face, “would you ever...be interested in dating? I heard a few members of the team saying that you liked me and for a while, I didn’t want to believe that but I figured there was no harm in asking because I totally feel the same,” you finally confessed.

Hoshiumi sat there, mouth wide in surprise as your heart basically fell your ass. your thoughts were immediately plagued with the idea that you had ruined your entire relationship with him but that was quickly put to rest as grabbed your closer and held your face as softly as ever before placing a kiss on both your cheeks before reaching your lips. 

“honestly, I was about to ask you out tonight too. I’ve been having these feelings for a while now and I’m glad you finally confessed. I’ve truthfully liked you since the night I saw you with Atsumu but I didn’t want to make it seem as though I was being pushy.” 

you laughed, pushing yourself away from him a bit as he dipped you down once again and kissed you again. you ran your fingers through his hair as he kissed your neck a bit and parts of your upper chest. 

“you’re the best. I literally thought the best day of my life was the day I got the job for the Adler’s but this beats it by far!” he exclaimed, hugging you now. you laughed, shaking your head at his excitement, “I could say the same,” you giggled as you kissed him again. 

+ 

a few weeks finally passed as the season was in full swing now. you were working a few days a week and going out on the days you had off with Kourai. the only dreadful part in all of this was that the Adler’s were playing Msby soon and you knew that you would in fact be seeing Atsumu during, before, and after the game. 

Hoshiumi could see the slight nervousness and panic on your face the day of the game against the Black Jackals. you weren’t as excited as you were usually were and you were responding to the team in snippets and very short sentences. the team could sense your shift in attitude but didn’t bother to question it. 

“hey, you okay?” Hoshiumi asked, pulling you to the side a few minutes before warm ups. you gave him a questioning look, “I can see you’re nervous and I’m pretty sure it’s probably because of Atsumu being here,” he assumed as you reluctantly agreed. 

he sighed, bringing you in for a hug, “you don’t have to work today. I can make up an excuse that you got sick and say you’re in your office watching the game,” he said. you shook your head, “no, it would be immature of me to miss a game because of that fucking idiot. I’ll be okay, I promise,” you whispered, giving him a kiss of reassurance before letting him go. 

a few feet behind, Atsumu had saw the entire interaction happen. his heart was admittedly broken, seeing the way you were kissing and hugging Hoshiumi. he hadn’t known that you were working with Scheweiden nor did he know that you were even dating Hoshiumi. 

when the team had walked into the gym, he had saw your photo in the hallway entering the gym. your smile was one he missed and he felt himself get angry all over again. it had been months since the breakup but you had yet to unblock him from any social media so all of this news at once broke him. 

the game was a lot more intense than they assumed it would have been. Hoshiumi and Atsumu playing to 100% and even getting into small scuffles. you had saw the interactions and knew it was probably because of you but were arguing when it came down to plays so it didn’t look as immature on the court. 

ultimately, Schweiden won the game, beating the Jackal’s by a landslide in their last set. you were smiling at Hoshiumi as the game ended, bringing him a water and giving him a kiss before handing off the waters to Ushijima and Kageyama next. you had ran out of the gym for a few seconds to refill waters for a few players when you ran into the last person you expect. 

“if you can excuse me Miya, I need to refill these,” you said, not even looking at him in the eye. he moved out of the way, seeing thew way you refilled the bottles as quickly as possible. once you were done, you were about to head back into the gym when he stopped you, “how are you?” he asked shyly. 

you sighed, “fine Miya,” you said curtly. Atsumu growled in annoyance, “are you together with-,” “with me!” you heard Hoshiumi’s voice scream through the hall. you smiled at the sight of him as he pushed you behind him and sizing up the much taller Atsumu. 

“this had nothing to do with you, Hoshiumi.”

“oh but it does! she’s my girlfriend, our manager, and a member of the team so whatever you need to say to her, you can say to me!” you laughed at Hoshiumi’s confidence as Atsumu looked at him, rage filling his eyes, “what? what’re you gonna do? hit me? you’d get suspended and look like a complete idiot to the entire V-league!” 

“do we have an issue?” Ushijima asked, looking at Atsumu and Hoshiumi as Sakusa followed him, “no issue at all,” Atsumu gritted as Hoshiumi wore a proud grin on his face.

“that’s great to hear. come on ( your name ). Hoshiumi you better be in the gym in the next minute.” 

“lets go Atsumu, you don’t win anything out of creating a scene,” Sakusa said as he grabbed his friend and tried dragging him out of the hallway. Hoshiumi waved at Atsumu as cockily as possible, “remember Atsumu! not only did we win the game but I also won your girl!” he screamed. 

Atsumu went to jump but was pulled back by Sakusa and Bokuto as you walked out of the gym again to grab Hoshiumi. he grabbed you by the wrist and kissed you in front everyone that was in the hallway. Atsumu could hear Bokuto telling him to calm down but he wanted nothing more than to run over to Hoshiumi and kick his ass before reclaiming you as his again. 

[your-denki-kun]

Gaming

Eijirou X Denki X Reader

A/N: This one-shot is a few months old. I have like 137 drafts of which only a few posted and a few unfinished, so I decided to post at least one tonight. So here it is. It's bad and I know it, but I really wanted to post. Also, I don’t play COD, so don’t come at me being all angry that i got stuff wrong. I write, read and play Minecraft, Sims and that kind of games. Also sorry for any spelling mistakes, English is not my first language.

What: Angst, sad, cursing, fluff

Word count:  4.6K+

~3rd person pov.~

After a long day at school you go to sit on your bed after starting your PS4. You get comfortable on your bed and put on your headset. You start up Call of Duty and wait for it to load. Once it's done you go into a random online match and turn on your mic so you can talk with your teammates.

''We're killing these fuckers.'' An aggressive, male voice says, a speaker appearing behind the name; King Explosion Murder.

''Calm down King, they're new to this.'' Another male voice says, the speaker appearing behind the name; Red Riot.

''Yeah King, Red is right.'' Yet another guy says, his name is Charge Bolt.

''Guys, calm down.'' Another male, Spidy Man, says.

''Yeah!'' A girl, Pinky, says.

''Shut it extra's!'' King barks.

''Calm down bro, the game is starting.'' Red says, the numbers on your screen counting down.

''Lets win this shit.'' King says, you can basically hear the smirk in his voice.

As the timer hits zero you run off, walking through the map and searching for a good snipper spot. Once you find one you take out some people, your teammates talking to one another, but you choose to ignore them. As no more people appear you go to look for another spot, taking out someone while looking for it.

''FUCK!!'' King yells as you see he died.

''My ears man.'' Charge Bolt whines.

''Shut it Pikachu!''

''Hey!''

''Guys, focus.'' Red sighs.

They keep talking, but you tune them out once again and keep taking out people. As you shoot someone else the winning screen appears. You smirk as you see you killed the most people. Everyone cheers except King who's just grumbling. You tune everyone back in in order to be able to follow the conversation.

''So manly, BB!'' Red cheers.

''Woo! Finaly someone who's better than King!'' Pinky cheers.

''Nice.'' Spidy says.

''Shut it! We're playing another game!'' King barks.

''No need to be salty.'' You mumble.

''Ohh~'' Everyone except King says.

''SHUT IT EXTRA!!'' King barks.

''Come on King. They're new.'' Red chuckles.

The new game starts and you repeat what you did before. This goes on for multiple rounds, you barely talking and if you talk it's mostly a comment on King. As the night ends you go offline and shut off your Playstation. You get ready for bed and lay down, getting comfortable as you let sleep take over.

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

Over the next two months you keep running into the group of friends and slowly you start opening up to them, actually talking and working together with them. Everyone's scores go up and even King starts accepting you, clearly favoring you over everyone else in the group. That is something the others often complain about.

''King, go a bit to your right behind the wall, I can't get a clear shot.'' You say.

''Got it.'' Is all he says as he aims at the person and kills them.

''Why are you so good at this BB?'' Charge Bolt whines.

''Well, my brother taught me and I play a lot. Red, left, behind the stack of boxes. Like, I play a lot a lot.'' You shrug as you shoot someone.

''Lets just focus on the mission.'' Spidy sighs.

''Got it.'' You all, minus King, reply, going silent once again except the occasional instruction.

Just like always you guys win the round and Red, Spidy, Charge Bolt and Pinky compliment you just like always. You just brush it off and you all start another round. After a few rounds Spidy, Pinky and King have to leave, but Red Riot and Charge Bolt stay. You three play a few more rounds before just deciding to talk.

''So you're telling me none of you guys have ever met?'' You ask in disbelieve.

''Yeah, King doesn't want it and he's always here because we don't play unless he's online. Though that did change since you're here now, but we just never really thought about it anymore.'' Red explains.

''Well, how about we three meet up?''

''Really?'' Red and Charge Bolt ask.

''Yeah, I trust you guys and we can meet up in a public place.'' You shrug, indifferent about your won idea.

''Sure thing.'' Charge Bolt says.

''Great. Okay so I'll tell you guys my number, but don't give it to the others.''

''We don't have their number.'' Red shrugs.

''Okay. So my number is; 0X-XXXX-XXXX.''

''Great, I'll text you. You can make a group chat and we can decide when to meet up.'' Charge Bolt explains.

''Sure thing. Bye guys.''

''Bye.''

You disconnect and wait for them to text you. When they do you save them in your contact list before making a group chat. You name it; Gaming Idiots and wait for them to send something. You don't have to wait long for them to do so.

~Gaming Idiots~

Red Riot Do I need to feel offended?

Charge Bolt No idea bro

You Nah, don't feel offended

Red Riot Okay

Charge Bolt So when are we meeting and where?

Red Riot This Saturday?

You Sure, at the mall in Hosu?

Charge Bolt Sure thing

Red Riot Fine by me

The three of you keep texting for a while until you say good bye because you're almost falling asleep. The rest of the week you guys don't bring up the meeting in front of the others, only mentioning it in the group chat or when you guys are the only ones online. Right now it's Saturday and you're at the mall, waiting for the two males to show up.

You glance around at all the people that are walking around the mall. They both told you what they look like and you did the same. Red Riot said he has red hair and is decently tall while Charge Bolt says he has golden blond hair and isn't all that tall. Red also mentioned something about being buff, which made Charge Bolt jealous because he isn't, or so he says.

As you look around you spot two males, fitting the descriptions you were given, looking around as if they're searching for something. Deciding to test your luck you walk over to them. The closer you get the more sure you are it is them. As you reach them they stare at you, as if waiting for you to confirm things.

''Red Riot? Charge Bolt?'' You ask softly, hoping you're right.

''BB?'' The two of them reply in sync.

''Yes.''

''Cool, we all found each other. Me and Charge Bolt saw each other a bit ago. Have you been here long?''

''Nah, just a few minutes. My real name is (y/n) by the way.''

''Kirishima.''

''Kaminari, nice to meet you gorgeous.'' Kaminari smirks confidently.

''You're the flirt I see. Anyway, what do you guys want to do?''

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

Months go by and the three of you meet up almost weekly. You've developed a crush for the both of them and you have a feeling they have as well. You aren't sure however, but the way you all get flustered and blush a lot is a good indicator. Right now you're on your way to Kirishima's house where you all decided to meet up. You knock on the door and wait.

''Ah, (y/n). You made it. Come in.'' Kirishima smiles as he steps aside to let you in.

''Thanks.'' You smile as you walk past him and into the house.

You take off your shoes and walk further into the house. You soon spot the living room and walk in only to see Kaminari sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table. He smiles at you and waves you over, to which you comply. Kirishima sits down with you guys pretty soon and you look at their nervous faces.

''Something wrong?'' You ask them worriedly.

''We want to tell you something.'' Kirishima starts, avoiding eye contact.

''Okay.''

''We've known each other for a while now and.... We started liking you. Would you be our partner?'' Kaminari blurts out, also avoiding eye contact.

''Of course.'' You smile as you hug them both.

They stare at you in shock for a bit before they start laughing as they hold you close. As you all break the hug after a while you all talk and laugh. When it becomes late Denki walks you home before going to his own house, which you and Eijirou really apreciated. You've never been a big fan of walking outside alone in the dark.

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

''Guys, we should all meet up.'' Pinky states as you all wait for the new round to start.

''Sure, I don't see why not.'' Eijirou says and you can basically hear him shrug.

''Why not.'' Denki hums.

''Sure.'' You mumble as a reply.

''When?'' Is all Spidy asks.

''What-fucking-ever.''

''Such colorful vocabulary.'' You joke as you roll your eyes.

''YOU WANNA GO?!?!'' King barks into your ears.

''My ears man!'' Eijirou whines loudly.

''How about this Saturday at the mall in Hosu?'' Pinky suggests as the round starts.

''Sure, it's crowded so if any of you are creeps I'll be safe.'' You shrug as you shoot someone.

''Don't worry BB. Me and Red will protect you.'' Denki says in a confident tone.

''You're dead.'' You deadpan as you see his name fade.

''WHAT?!?!'' Denki exclaims loudly.

''Jezus. Could you all quit yelling.'' You groan as you slightly shake your head.

''We both know this was gonna happen BB.'' Eijirou sighs softly, amusement clear in his voice.

''But he didn't have to yell.''

''True, but still.'' Eijirou replies to which you sigh.

You all keep talking until King says he's leaving because it's getting late even though it's only nine thirty, but he always goes to bed at this time. As you shut off your Playstation you hear your phone ding, causing you to smile. You grab your phone and unlock it, seeing Denki send something in the groupchat.

~Gaming Idiots~

Denki<3 But I wasn't kidding, Pichu, we will protect you

Eiji<3 Denks is right. We will

You I know, but it's fun teasing you Denki

Eiji<3 You both looking forward to Saturday?

Denki<3 Mhm! I'm curious as to what they look like

You Well one will have wrinkles from all the shouting and scowling

Denki<3 XD fnwfelsfflwnjk

Eiji<3 That's rude, but it is true

And so you guys keep texting until it's late into the night and you're all barely awake. The next two days you all play every night and you text your boyfriends until late into the night on both days. Right now it's Saturday, about eleven in the morning and you're getting ready. You know Eijirou and Denki will be there soon, so you quickly finish up.

Just as you put the last things in your pockets and bag you hear the door bell ring and a smile appears on your face. You walk over to the front door and put on your shoes and coat. After that you open the door and smile brightly. Your two boyfriends do the same, wearing some simple clothes just like you.

''Hey, Pichu, you ready?'' Denki asks as he gives you a quick kiss.

''Hey, Babes. I'm ready.'' You smile as you walk outside and lock your door.

''Good.'' Eijirou smiles as he gives you a kiss as well.

The three of you start walking towards the mall as you all talk and laugh, memories of your first meeting flooding all your minds. As you all reach the mall you look around, looking for anyone fitting any of the descriptions given to the three of you. You soon spot an annoyed looking, ash blond guy.

''Guys, isn't that King?'' You ask your boyfriends as you point at the guy.

''You might be right. Lets go check if it is.'' Eijirou smiles as he starts walking.

You and Denki follow after him, all of you pushing past people and excusing yourselves. As you reach whom you assume is King a pink haired girl and a black haired guy also walk up to him. You look at Eijirou and Denki and they just nod. Now you are almost a hundred percent sure it's King.

''King?'' You ask as you reach the man.

''Yes, who the fuck are you?''

''(y/n), but better known as BB.'' You smile at him.

''Kirishima, better known as Red Riot.''

''Kaminari, better known as Charge Bolt.''

''Ashido, but you guys know me as Pinky.'' The pink haired girl smiles.

''Sero, but you know me as Spidy Guy.'' The black guy smiles.

''Bakugou.'' is all King says.

''now that we're all here and know names, how about we get something to eat and drink before we just do whatever?'' you suggest as you look at them.

''sure.'' they all reply.

you start walking to your favorite coffee shop which you always go to with Eijirou and Denki whenever you guys are here. Two said males smile once they notice and grin at one another. Cheerful chatter fills the air around the six of you. As you all reach the coffee shop you all order and sit down. You sit in between Eijirou and Denki, Bakugou sits in front of you, Ashido in front of Eijirou and Sero in front of Denki.

''This is so exciting.'' Sshido gushes as she takes a sip of her drink.

''Mhm, I finally have faces with the voices and names.'' You smile as you take a sip as well.

''Yeah, that is nice. We should totally exchange numbers though. That way we can talk without having to play.'' Denki chimes in.

You all keep talking while eating and drinking. Once you all finish Eijirou pays and you all start walking around, walking into random shops and buying random things. As you're looking at some books together with Eijirou and Denki you feel someone stare at you intently, so you look behind you and lock eyes with Bakugou's burning gaze.

''Pebble, something wrong?'' Eijirou asks worried.

''Bakugou is staring at us rather intensely.'' You mumble as you keep staring at him.

''Then ask him what's wrong.'' Denki shrugs as he grabs another book.

You simply nod and walk over to Bakugou, never once breaking eye contact. He doesn't move towards you or away from you as he follows you with his eyes. As you reach him you stand in front of him and look up slightly seeing he's taller than you. He glares down at you, eyes burning with something you can't quiet place.

''Something wrong Bakugou?''

''Why the fuck are you so close with Shitty hair and Dunce face?''

''Can't I be?''

''You fucking can, but it's different. Soy sauce and Pinky are close as well, but you three are acting fucking off.''

''Not everyone is the same Bakugou.'' You deadpan with a soft sigh.

''Just fucking tell me, do you already know the other extras?''

''I d-''

''Ie! Denki!'' You hear Eijirou exclaim, causing you to look back.

You see Denki laughing as he runs off with Eijirou chasing him, a playful yet annoyed look on his face. Sighing you walk away from Bakugou and towards your two idiotic boyfriends. First you grab Denki by the back off his collar, causing him to yelp. Next you do the same with Eijirou. They both look at you sheepishly as you sigh.

''Behave.''

''Yes.'' They both reply.

You nod and let the both of them go. They sigh in relief, but that's short lived as you hit the both of them at the back of the head. They both yelp in pain and rub the back of their heads as they weakly glare at you. You simply smile at them and ruffle their hair. You hear someone stomp over and look behind you to see Bakugou.

''Fucking spit it out!'' He barks as he glares dagers at the three of you.

''Spit what out?'' Eijirou and Denki ask confused.

''Do you guys fucking know each other?''

''Of course, we all game together.'' Denki asks, confused at the question.

''That's not what he means. He means if we know each other outside of the gaming.'' You explain, not looking at him but Bakugou.

''Ah, yeah we do.'' Denki smiles obliviously.

''Denki.'' Both you and Eijirou groan, he can be too dumb for his own good sometimes.

''What did I do?'' He asks worried.

''We promised to meet up all at once and not separately, remember?'' Eijirou asks him.

''Ohhh, right. We did promise that.'' Denki mumbles. ''Oopsie.''

''Dunce face!'' Bakugou barks.

''Back off Bakugou. He might be an idiot, but he's our idiot.'' You say in a low, threatening voice.

''YOU'RE ALL PIECES OFF SHIT!! FUCKING LIARS!! I FUCKING HATE ALL OF YOU!! NEVER FUCKING SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!!'' Bakugou yells as he stomps off and out of the store.

''Well, that happened.'' You mumble, but as you look at your boyfriends you see their teary eyes.

''Ei? Denki?'' You ask as you walk closer.

''He hates us......We promised to always be there and....Now he hates us.'' Eijirou mumbles as he looks at you with sad eyes.

''Ohh, Ei, he'll turn around.'' You shush him softly as you hug him.

''He won't. He's the reason Ear Jack isn't in the group anymore. She kept canceling whenever we decided to all come online and Bakugou blew up on her.'' Denki mumbles as tears fill his eyes to the brim.

''I'm sorry. I didn't know.'' You whisper as you pull him into the hug as well.

''What happened here?'' Ashido asks worried.

''Bakugou blew up on us. Something about hating us and never wanting to talk to us again.'' You explain, holding your boyfriends close.

''I see. Well, it was nice knowing you guys. Bye.'' Sero says as he waves and walks off.

''Bye.''

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

''Come one guys, cheer up a bit.'' You whisper as you look at your two sad boyfriends.

''We lost our friend, Pichu.'' Denki mumbles as his eyes fill with tears again.

''He hates us. We failed him.'' Eijirou mumbles as he hugs himself close.

They've been like this for two weeks now and it isn't helping you either. You were the one who suggested meeting up in the first place, only the three of you. 'If I didn't ask them to meet up with me, just us, non of this would have happened. This is my fault.' You think as you walk out of Eijirou's house where Denki has been staying since that day.

You walk to the park and google Bakugou's number, finding some social media pages linked to it. After a bit you see a house, with a house number. He's standing in front of the house together with a green haired guy who seems to be the same age. You recognize the buildings and start walking to the neighborhood where those houses stand.

As you walk around you try to find his house, different scenarios running through your mind. After a while you see the house and walk up to it. Sighing you ring the doorbell and wait. After a bit a female version of Bakugou opens the door. You assume it's his mom. She looks at you in shock before smiling brightly.

''Hello, what can I do for you?'' She asks sweetly.

''I’m here for Bakugou. I'm a friend of his and I want to talk to him.'' You explain.

''Come in. KATSUKI!!'' She yells as she turns away from you and walks into the house.

''WHAT YOU OLD HAG?!?!'' Bakugou's voice yells back.

''THERE'S SOMEONE HERE FOR YOU!! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!'' She turns back to you and smiles. ''You can sit in the living room.''

''I'll stand right here, ma'am.'' You smile with a slight bow of your head.

You hear feet stomp down the stairs and look up, seeing and annoyed Bakugou stomping down them. Once he sees you his look turns even more annoyed and even angry. You look at him with a neutral face as the mom walks into the kitchen after excusing herself. Bakugou walks over to you with a burning glare.

''What the fuck are you doing here?'' He hisses.

''It was my idea. I suggested to meet up, just the three of us. I asked if you guys ever met up and they said no. It was my idea. Don't punish them for my mistake.'' You state, meeting his gaze and holding it.

''And why the fuck would I believe you?'' He asks in a skeptical voice.

''I have no reason to lie to you. Eijirou and Denki are hurting, they're devastated that they lost you. Hate me all you want, god you can wish me death, but at least accept them into the games. You don't have to be buddy buddy with them, but they need you.''

''Bullshit.''

''Believe what you want. Deep down you know they're devastated and that it was never their intention to hurt you like this. I caught them off guard and got us to meet, it was my idea. That's all I have to say. Do with it what you want. I'll be leaving now. Bye.'' You say as you turn to the door and walk out.

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

The doorbell of your house rings, causing you to frown. You walk over to the door you open it and see Bakugou, causing your frown to deepen. You open the door and let him in. He walks past you, takes off his shoes and walks deeper into the house, eventually sitting down on the couch. You follow after him, frown not leaving.

''What are you doing here?'' You ask as you sit down on a chair facing the couch.

''Where are Shitty hair and Dunce face?''

''At Eijirou's house. They haven't left it after that day.''

''Shitty hair has his own house?'' Bakugou asks surprised, although he doesn't really show it.

''Yeah, me and Eijirou have our own houses. Denki still lives at home just like you.''

''Get them to come over.''

''Okay.'' You take your phone out of your pocket and call Eijirou, putting the phone on speaker, causing Bakugou to frown.

''Pebble, we are not going outside and coming over. You know we aren't in the mood.'' Eijirou's tired voice mumbles after two rings.

''I know, Ei. I know.'' You whisper as your eyes sadden.

''Then why did you call?'' Denki mumbles as you glance at Bakugou who looks shocked.

''There is someone here who would like to talk to you guys.'' You sigh as you hand the phone to Bakugou. ''Hurt them and I hurt you. I'll be at the store. I'll be back in half an hour.''

Bakugou nods as you walk over to the door, put on your shoes and leave. Bakugou looks at the phone as Eijirou and Denki keep calling for you and asking who it is. Bakugou takes a deep breath and shakes his head to get rid of the thoughts. By now it's silent on the other end.

''Is it fucking true it was their idea?''

''....Bakugou?'' The both of them ask softly.

''Answer the fucking question.'' Bakugou groans in annoyance.

''It was. They suggested to meet up. Why are you at their place? I thought you hated us and wanted nothing to do with us.'' Eijirou mumbles defeated.

''They came to my fucking house four days ago and explained it was their idea, not fucking yours. I just wanted to fucking make sure.''

''Okay.'' They mumble softly.

''Oi.''

''Yeah?''

''Sorry or whatever. You guys can join games again and text or whatever. And don't make me fucking regret that shit.''

''We won't!'' The both of them cheer.

The three of them talk until you come home. You're glad to hear their cheerful voices over the phone. Bakugou looks at you with his usual scowl and holds the phone out to you. You shake your head, walk over and mute yourself. Bakugou frowns and it only deepens when he sees your teary eyes.

''This is all my fault. Here is Eijirou's address, you can go there and talk to them face to face if you want. Don't bother coming here again. I'll take responsibility for what I did.'' You whisper as you take the phone, unmute it and take a deep breath. ''Bakugou is on his way to you guys, bye.''

''What the fuck are you doing?'' Bakugou asks as he gets up and stares down at you.

''The right thing.'' You whisper as you walk over to your bedroom and close the door behind you.

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

Over the next two weeks you cry a lot, ignore Eijirou's and Denki's texts and calls and when they're at the door you also don't respond. You know you're worrying them, but you can't bring yourself to face them after everything you made them go through. they were heartbroken when Bakugou broke off contact.

''OPEN THE FUCK UP!!'' You hear Bakugou bark as he bangs on your door violently.

''Go away.'' You mumble before walking away from the door.

''I SAID OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!''

''Just go away! Leave me alone! I deserve it! I hurt them so much! It's all my fault!'' You exclaim as tears stream down your face.

''BULLSHIT!! OPEN THE DOOR!!''

''NO!! LEAVE ME ALONE!! I DON'T DESERVE THEM!! IF IT WASN'T FOR ME NON OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!! THEY WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN HURT LIKE THAT!!'' You exclaim as you fall to the ground.

''Fuck it.'' Is all the warning you get before you door falls to the ground. ''LISTEN HERE YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT!! YOU'RE FUCKING HURTING THEM RIGHT NOW!! MAN THE FUCK UP AND TALK TO THEM!!''

''No!''

''GOD DAMNED IT DON'T BE FUCKING STUBBORN!! YOU'RE ALL FUCKING HURTING!!'' He yells as he walks over and grabs your collar, lifting you up so you're face to face. ''Fucking talk to them. This shit isn't helping. Go over to Shitty hair's house and fucking talk to them.''

''I can't.'' You whisper in defeat as a sob escapes. ''I can't! I can't bring myself to do it! Whenever I see their picture flash across my screen I fucking break down! I can't!''

''Fuck it.'' Bakugou grumbles before slinging you over his shoulder.

You eyes widen in shock as Bakugou walks over to the door and steps over it, walking out off your apartment. You trash in his hold and yell at him to let you go as you sob and hit his back. He just stays silent as he walks to Eijirou's house. Once he reaches it he harshly knocks on the door, by now you're just limply hanging on his shoulder.

''Hey, wh-(y/n)? Bakugou?'' Eijirou asks confused. ''What is this?''

''Let me the fuck in.''

''Of course.''

Eijirou steps aside and Bakugou walks in, heading to the living room after kicking off his shoes. He throws you onto the couch and walks out of the house again. You just lay motionless on the couch with your face buried in the cushions. Denki and Eijirou stare at you with worry and confusion as they sit on the chairs facing the couch.

''Pichu?'' Denki whispers softly, breaking the tens and awkward silence.

''Pebble, talk to us please.'' Eijirou pleads softly.

''It's my fault. All of this is my fault.'' You mumble as you push yourself up and hug your legs to your chest.

''What do you mean, Pichu?''

''If I hadn't asked you guys to meet up non of this would have happened.''

''We could have said no to your offer, we're just as much at fault.'' Eijirou says in a caring voice.

''I surprised you guys.''

'Iis this why you've been ignoring us?'' Denki whispers softly as he gets up and walks over.

''I just feel so guilty and I....I feel like I don't deserve this.'' You mumbles as you glance at him with teary eyes.

''You do deserve this, Pebble. We don't hold any of this against you and we never will. I get why you feel like this, but there is no reason for you to feel like this.'' Eijirou says with a gentle smile as he walks over.

''You promise?'' You almost whimper.

''We promise. Now are we good again?''

''Yeah.''

[spadejin]

could i request sfw and nsfw headcanons for dabi and hawks with a non-binary s/o?

Warnings: NSFW Under the Cut, 18+. Mentions of Public Sex. Mentions of BDSM. Slight Dirty Talk. Mentions of Exhibitionism. Mentions of Praise Kink. Oral Mentions (Giving/Receiving).

A/N: You sure can, anon! Sorry for the late submission, it’s been kinda hectic on my side lately, I hope this makes up for it, <3!

Dabi

SFW

He’s not used to being affectionate through words, so he always uses his actions to show his love for you.

Dabi isn’t really romantic, either. Don’t expect much from him unless it’s a REALLY special occasion. He doesn’t really expect you to do much as his S/O either, he’s pretty low maintenance.

He calls you a lot of pet names: Baby, Babe, Cutie, Sweet Cheeks, Sweetheart, Toots, Peaches, Angel etc.

Actually, I doubt there’s a time that he ever calls you by your name unless it’s serious.

His quirk makes him hot all of the time, so he’s basically a personal heater for you, especially when you’re outside in the winter. He’ll roll his eyes and call you clingy, but he won’t really stop you.

Dabi’s favorite place for you to sit is in his lap, no matter where you both are. In public (the rare times you both are out), around the league, or alone, he wants you in his lap with his arms around your waist.

Because of his affiliation, he tries not to be out in public too much, and that’s something you’re going to have to understand. More than likely, you’ll be aware of his position in the league, so you both usually settle for at home dates.

If you both do end up going out in public, then it’s at night.

His kisses are a bit rough, and usually unexpected. Sometimes he catches you off guard and he just yanks you back by your arm and slams his lips onto yours. You almost always get a smack delivered to your ass when he’s finished.

Dabi’s a tease. In the streets, and in the sheets, there’s no getting around that.

He’ll always say something to get you flustered, and he almost never has any shame about it.

The league is around? Who cares, he’s still getting you all worked up.

Dabi will randomly come down the hallway and corner you, getting really close to your ear to whisper something completely underwhelming for his actions.

“You’re lookin’ pretty sweet there, peaches.”

Walks away like nothing happened, but he can’t hide the smirk on his face whenever you flush at his actions.

Dabi rarely “argues,” just for the simple fact that he really doesn’t give a fuck. If you want to address him about something, then do it calmly. Otherwise, he’ll just stop listening.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a temper though. If you push his buttons enough, he’ll probably raise his voice at you a little bit if he’s stressed out.

Arguing with Dabi isn’t fun. He’s so blunt that it hurts. To add more salt in the wound, he’ll just leave after you both have said your pieces, giving you both time to reflect upon what you said. Sometimes he’ll stay gone only for a few hours. If it’s REALLY bad, he’ll stay gone for about a week or two.

However, arguments ALWAYS lead up to a “fun night.”

NSFW

Remember how I said Dabi was a tease? Yeah.

He’ll tease the hell out of you before you both even get in the bed. When you’re around Dabi, you have absolutely no choice but to get horny.

If his aura doesn’t get you going, then he will.

He’ll use his fingers to caress your body “innocently,” even though you both know that’s not his intention.

When you’re sitting on his lap, there’s a 90% chance that he’s going to start kissing you neck, and this man isn’t an amateur. Dabi knows exactly where to put his lips to make you feel good.

You’d better get up and bring him someplace private if he doesn’t pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, because he WILL start touching you in front of everyone else.

He loves leaving marks and hickeys up and down your body. You belong to him, and he wants whoever that sees these marks to know that. He refuses to let you cover them up if it isn’t necessary.

He prefers receiving oral other than giving.

Go down on him and expect your hair to be pulled at and tugged whenever you do something to please him. Don’t be surprised if he starts to thrust into your mouth, making you gag on his cock.

As stated before, he knows how to put his mouth to good use. Though he isn’t a frequent giver of oral, you’ll remember that his mouth is heavenly when he uses it on the area in between your legs.

Dabi’s pace depends on his mood, honestly.

He’s usually rough and fast when he’s impatient. If he’s feeling lazy, he’ll let you take control, but don’t get too cocky, because he doesn’t take well to teasing.

He’ll indulge you if you like dirty talking. His mouth has no filter, and the words that formulate on his tongue are sinful!

He’ll be on board with almost any kinks you have.

Degradation? You got it. Restraints? Definitely. Orgasm Denial? Fuck yeah. Overstimulation? Yep. Public Sex? Good luck getting him off you.

Dick piercings. The most prominent one he has is a Jacob’s ladder.

He wakes up horny in the middle of the night often, so be prepared to deal with that.

His favorite place to cum is probably in your mouth or on your back.

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

SFW

In contrast to Dabi, Hawks is pretty romantic, ngl.

Though he might be busy with hero work a lot, he always makes time for you. He’ll go out of his way to see you during his off times.

He basically knows your schedule.

You’re on a lunch break? Nine times out of ten he’ll drop by and pick you up to take you out to your favorite café or restaurant.

Sometimes in the morning he’ll bring you coffee or tea if that’s what you like. Maybe one of your favorite snacks.

He’s known for meeting you after work just to make sure you get home safely.

Sends you frequent texts to check up on you. He’ll remind you to eat, take meds, drink plenty of water, and all that jazz.

He’s also a frequent pet name user. Some are general, some are kind of biased. Babe, Love, Darling, Honey, Sweets; Baby bird, Songbird (Yagami Yato, anyone?), My Little Feather, Chickadee, Hatchling, etc.

I can see him calling you “Kid” pretty often if you’re younger than he is.

Hope you’re not afraid of heights, because he likes flying around with you in his arms. However, if you are scared of heights, then he’ll leave you on ground. He wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack.

Hawks is pretty clingy. He loves being around you. He’ll pull you in his lap, lay his head on your lap, sling an arm around your waist/shoulder, etc. He has no idea what personal space is.

He’s also always kissing you. Expect about a thousand kisses a day from him. He’ll kiss your cheeks, your jaw, your forehead, your nose… Everywhere!

Whenever you both are walking together, he’s always holding your hand, tugging you behind him or letting you drag him around.

He pays you a lot of causal compliments.

“Babe, you’re dressed up all nice. Are you trying to impress me or something, kid?”

He’s always thinking about you, and he lets you know that.

He has a fairly good memory when it comes to you. If you tell him something once, he’ll more than likely remember it for next time. This comes in handy whenever he gives you gifts.

If you both are on a date together and you mention that you like something in a store, it’ll probably appear on your nightstand within a few hours/days.

Not many things ruffle his feathers (literally), so he probably won’t get into a serious argument with you. He’ll probably just call you silly for being upset. Honestly, there’s probably not much you can get mad at him for anyways. I can only think of him being way too playful.

Hawks may be calm and laid back, but you’re probably one of the few people that can make him excited. His wings probably flutter when he’s excited too. Big baby.

NSFW

Hawks is a switch. A HARD switch.

Sometimes he’ll want to dominate the hell out of you and trap you under him while you squirm with anticipation. His expression is either very serious, or hella playful.

If he’s feeling playful, he’ll tease you.

“What’s that look on your face baby bird? You’re squirming around like you want more.”

If he’s being serious, good luck dealing with him. He’s only ever serious when he gets jealous, which is NOT often.

“You’ve been a naughty one today, babe. I’ll show you who you belong to.”

His voice doesn’t help his dirty talk. His tone is just naturally teasing and smooth, so when he starts talking like THAT, you can’t help but to get all excited.

Though he’s a bratty bottom, he usually turns out to be a whiny submissive. He’ll act like whatever you do doesn’t faze him in the beginning, but he’ll eventually break and start begging.

His wings are sensitive. If you caress them out of nowhere, he immediately melts and moans, submitting easily to your touch. He’ll flinch, trembling under your fingers and his wings will flutter away whenever you stroke them.

Hawks also has a huge praise kink, giving and receiving Tell him how good he looks pleasing you, or while you’re pleasing him, tell him how good he sounds and that the facial expressions he makes turn you on.

He prefers giving oral as opposed to receiving it, but he’ll never turn down some good head.

He likes hearing the sounds you make for him as he’s using his mouth and tongue on you.

Hawks is also a big fan of quickies. Sometimes he needs some quick satisfaction in the middle of a busy day, so if he gets his hands on you, you might as well just let it happen or you’ll be in for it that night.

He likes to release inside of you. Inside of your hole, or inside of your mouth, it’s just whatever he feels like doing at that moment.

When Hawks is feeling particularly loving, he’ll be slow and caring. He’s very sensual, and it’s been a long time since he’s done something sexual with someone he actually loves. He pulls you close and looks into your eyes as he slides his cock in and out of you.

He probably has a thing for dry humping/grinding. He likes the feeling of cumming in his pants because of you.

He’s really good at phone sex, so you should be cautious whenever you answer calls from him. He’ll just come out of nowhere with it, and get you all desperate to see him later.

In addition to this, he likes sexting too, and he will usually start off with sending you a picture of himself. Perhaps it’ll be a picture of him fully clothed with his bulge clearly visible, straining against his pants. OR he’ll send you a straight up nude, cock dripping precum and everything.

[midnightsnyx]

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 5

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child. 

a/n: surprise!!! it’s part 5!! i wont be home sunday so i wanted to post this today. i’m really iffy on this part because i wrote and rewrote a lot of the scenes because i wasn’t happy with it and i’m still not 100% happy with it but if i keep picking it over i’ll end up deleting the entire thing and rewriting it from scratch

but yeah i hope u guys like it & thanks again sooooo much for the love on this story <3 you guys rock.

word count: 2.6K

warnings: swearing, angst w/ a lil fluff again and bad editing lol

ALSO the first part in italics is a flashback to before Matt missed the appointment! 

Part 5

“You’ve gotta stop moping, man.” Noah said, bumping his shoulder against Matt’s during morning practice.

Matt knew he was moping but he couldn’t get you out of his head and it was driving him nuts. He was attracted to you the moment you met even though you hated him, but lately something was different. He wasn’t sure if it’s from seeing you carry his child but the past couple months, you were all he could think about.

And it drove him insane.

“I’m not.” He mumbled, attempting to deny his teammates statement. Noah didn’t buy it though, because he grinned.

“You, me, and drinks?” He pointed at Matt. “Tonight at 9. We’re getting you laid.”

Matt forced a smile and nodded, knowing that Noah wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed.

“The ultrasound is in the morning though so I can’t stay out late.” Matt reminded him.

“We’ll have you back in time for the appointment.” Noah promised and Matt believed him which was why the hurt on your face the next morning broke him.

. . .

21 weeks

“Noah Hanifin is at your front door.” Becca says, looking through the peephole before turning to look at you. Piled under a mountain of blankets with tissues surrounding you and an empty tub of ice cream sitting on the coffee table, you‘re the perfect picture of a broken heart.

You have been dodging calls and texts from Matthew for the past two weeks but in the last couple days, he’s been radio silent and you’re not sure if it hurts more, or less.

“Tell Noah Hanifin to fuck off.” You mutter, trying to dig yourself deeper in the pile of blankets. You know why Noah is here and it pisses you off.

Becca opens the door a little and you can see Noah standing there, holding a bag and looking uncomfortable.

“Can I help you with something?” Becca asks shortly and Noah sighs.

“Good to see you too, Becs.”

Becca’s shoulders tighten and you know without seeing her face that she is glaring at him. “What do you want, Hanifin?”

He hands her the bag he was holding. “This is for Y/N. It’s from Matt. He says he’s sorry.” Then he looks at you. “He’s in bad shape.”

You know he’s in bad shape because even though you’re hurt and angry, you’ve been watching his games. He’s being careless, taking stupid penalties, picking fights more than normal and you know he hasn’t been getting much sleep because there are bags under his eyes.

So you don’t need Noah Fucking Hanifin to tell you that Matthew’s in bad shape.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Oh come on, Y/N.” Noah says a little too harshly for your liking. “He fucked up, he knows that. Cut him some slack, he’s twenty two and he’s about to be a fucking father. He’s scared!”

“And I’m about to be a mother!” You snap. “He doesn’t think I’m scared?”

Noah groans in frustration. “Look. It was my fault, okay? I talked Matt in to going out that night because I wanted him to stop moping over you.”

You try to ignore his comment about Matt moping over you but your voice is unsteady when you answer him.

“Matt is a big boy, Noah. He can make his own decisions and he made the wrong one.” You watch Noah’s face fall. “Stop trying to stick up for him.”

Noah shakes his head and sighs. “You should cut him some slack. It was my fault.”

You watch as he leaves without saying another word. When he’s gone and Becca shuts the door behind him, she turns to face you.

“He doesn’t deserve forgiveness just because Hanifin ‘talked’ him in to going out and getting drunk. He made that choice.”

You slowly nod, watching as she walks to your kitchen preparing to throw the bag Noah dropped off in the garbage. You’re not sure what prompts you to stop her but you call out before she throws it out.

“Wait.”

She looks at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“Let me see what he brought.”

You know she’s pissed, but she brings it over and hands it to you.

“I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” She says and you nod, watching as she walks down the hallway. When she’s out of sight, you peak in the bag.

The first thing you see is a chocolate bar. It’s your favourite, and you’re surprised he remembered. There’s some candy and a box of popcorn and your lips turn up in a tiny smile when you pull out a movie.

It’s What to Expect When You’re Expecting, the movie you were very against watching because of how unrealistic it would be compared to actual childbirth. There’s a little sticky note that says, you should watch this even though it’s totally not accurate.

Then, at the very bottom of the bag, there’s a bigger note and you want to ignore it like you’ve done with every text he’s sent you but you read it out of curiosity.

Y/N,

 I know that I can’t make up for missing the appointment and I know there’s nothing I can say to make it better so all I’m going to do is say sorry. I am so, so sorry and I know I keep saying that and they are only words but it’s all I can think of to say.

So I’m sorry and I hope that you can forgive me soon because I miss you and I want to be there for you without having to ask my mom for updates on how you are. Please call me, or even text me. I just want to know how you’re doing.

 Matt

 You’re sniffling by the time you’ve read the note but when you hear Becca approaching, you wipe away the tears and shove the paper back in the bag.

“What did he give you?” She questions, sitting on the couch next to you.

You don’t want to tell her about the note so you just shrug. “A movie.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.” You lie. “Will you watch it with me?”

“Sure.” She says, taking the movie from you and putting it in to the DVD player before returning to the couch and curling up on the opposite side of the couch.

You try to focus on the movie but you can’t get Matt’s note and Noah’s words out of your head. You’re confused from what Noah said about Matthew ‘moping’ over you. The two of you were friends and you used that term loosely. If it wasn’t for the baby, you know you never wouldn’t have gotten so close to him. You never would have gotten to know the side of him that the rest of the world has never seen. You wouldn’t have learned how terrible he is at cooking but how gentle he can be.

But you also wouldn’t be in this situation right now. By yourself and pregnant with a broken heart.

So you’re not sure what hurts more. The thought of never having known him the way you do or having your heart broken.

. . .

22 weeks

Johnny: I’m really sorry to bother you but can you please come pick Matt up? He’s in bad shape and he won’t go home unless its to you.

It’s this text that has you standing outside a bar that Matt and the guys are. For Johnny to text you, you know that it must be bad and you’re proven right when the doors open and Noah and Johnny carry an extremely wasted Matthew Tkachuk out. You’re not sure he’s even awake until he lifts his head when Noah shakes him.

“Y/N’s here, bud.”

His eyes are closed but they open when he hears your name and his face lights up and he shrugs the boys off, stumbling towards you. He’s unsteady so you reach out to steady him, grateful when he doesn’t put much weight on you.

“You’re here.” He breathes and you nod slowly.

“And you’re drunk.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m sober as a judge!”

You hear Noah chuckle but you don’t react to him, pulling Matt’s arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon. Lets go home.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Noah calls out and you’re still pissed at him so you don’t bother looking back.

“Yeah.”

You get Matt in your car without a problem and when you start the drive back to your apartment, you try to ignore how he’s staring at you but it feels like he’s burning holes in the side of your head.

“What?” You mutter eventually and you see him shrug out of the corner of your eye.

“’m surprised you came to pick me up. I know you hate me.” He mumbles and you sigh.

“I don’t hate you.” You tell him, “I was angry with you. And I had every right to be.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers quietly and when you glance at him, he’s no longer looking at you. He is staring at his hands and you notice the cuts from the fight he got in to at today’s game. It was a heavy loss and had a lot to do with how many penalties Matt took. They were dumb penalties, all of which he never would have taken if his head was in the game. You know it’s not entirely your fault but you still can’t help but feel a little guilty because you know he’s playing like this because you haven’t been talking to him.

“I know.” You say, pulling in to the parking lot of your apartment building. You could have very well dropped Matt off at his house but you know he’s too drunk and leaving him by himself could be dangerous.

He’s sobered up a little by the time you’re in your apartment. You make him drink a couple glasses of water before guiding him to your bathroom so he can brush his teeth with his toothbrush he keeps at your apartment and when you give him clothes that he keeps here too, you realize how much time he really spent here.

“I can sleep on the couch.” He says and everything in you is screaming to agree but he just looks so tired and you know he won’t get a wink of sleep on that couch so you shake your head.

“It’s fine.” you say, ignoring the small look of hope on his face, instead sending him out of the bathroom so you can get ready. You take your time, hoping that he will be asleep when you go to your bedroom but you find him laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t look at your face when you settle on the bed next to him but you do notice his eyes flicker to your stomach before you pull the blanket over you.

“It’s bigger.” He says.

“What?”

“Your stomach.” He clarifies. “It’s getting bigger.”

“Well that’s what happens when you’re growing a human being inside you.” You remind him and his lips turn up in a small smile.

“Y/N-” He starts to say but you cut him off.

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

He looks disappointed but he’s still drunk enough that you’re not comfortable having the conversation the two of you need to have. There are things that need to be worked out and said and you don’t want him to only remember half of it.

So you watch him nod and drift off before letting yourself fall asleep.

. . .

You wake the next morning before Matt. He snoring quietly and his back is to you which makes getting out of bed easier. He’ll be hungover for sure, so you decide to make breakfast while you wait for him to wake up. You’re also trying to think of what exactly you’re going to say to him.

You don’t know if you have it in you to still be so angry at him. He messed up and it’s not something you’ll ever forget but Noah made a good point when he said that Matt is only 23. You’re both still so young and about to be parents and despite wanting him to be perfect and never mess up, you can’t expect him to be.

“Hey.”

You turn to see Matt walking in to the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey.” You reply, turning back to the stove. You can hear him sit down on a bar stool and he’s quiet for a moment before speaking up.

“Thank you.” He says softly and it surprises you because you were expecting him to say sorry again.

“You didn’t have to come pick me up last night but you did.”

You shrug, turning around to look at him. “I know you would’ve done the same.”

“I would.” He says. “And I know you’re tired of me saying it but I am really sorry I missed the appointment. I promised I would be there and I let you down.”

You nod, walking over and sitting next to him. “You did, but I’m starting to think that I was too hard on you. You made a mistake, we all do.”

“I swear I’ll never miss one again.” He promises.

“Good, because I’ll shun you if you do.” You chirp and he grins.

After breakfast, the two of you are watching hockey replays and Matt is quietly talking to the baby. You can’t hear exactly what he’s saying but suddenly he looks up and grins.

“Can we tell everyone now? I thought we could make up an Instagram post or something.”

“I may already have one prepared.” You admit sheepishly and his smile lights up the room.

[fritae]

The Missing Piece:

Chapter 2 - Frustration

Gang leader! AU / Corporate! AU

Characters: Dabi x F/OC

Status: Ongoing

a/n: hey guys! so I'm playing with this idea and I'm not sure if I'm conveying it properly, but I hope you enjoy regardless! this story's really fun to write and I'm excited for what's to come! I'd really appreciate any feedback 🖤 thanks!

---

"Call Mr. Tobiro, tell him we're airing a new program next month" Mr. Lane tells me as we hurry through the halls.

I get confused. Didn't we resolve all this new program talk last week? I know the ratings still bother Mr. Lane, but enough to go against the board?"

"Sir, is this-"

"No. I'm not replacing any of the current shows. It'll be during the special programming slot on Saturday," He scowls. "A 2 hour special documentary about the Todoroki corp's amazing work these past few years. You know how popular the company is."

Something about this makes me uneasy. Why would he decide this out of nowhere?

His commands jolt me back to reality. "Make sure he adjusts the schedule and starts airing commercials. I want huge ratings, Ms. Aiko. We don't spend all this money to have another company show us up."

An intern quickly hands me Mr. Lane's morning coffee. I mouth a thank you and follow him to his office.

I place the coffee on his desk as he shouts on. I spot another employee carrying files for Mr. Lane. Her hands shake, as if she's trying to decide whether or not to drop them off now. We lock eyes through the glass and I decide for her.

Not now, I shake my head from behind Mr. Lane. Her eyes widen and she nods before quickly hurrying off.

"Are you listening to me, Ms. Aoki?

"Yes sir. I'll call Mr. Tobiro right away."

I keep a straight face as he shouts for the delay. As soon as I find an opening, I go out to call our corporate lawyer.

---

During lunch break, I head down to the cafeteria. I smile when I spot Aliyah and the crew. We tried to sync our lunch breaks to ensure we had some time together during the day (though we at times have to work through our breaks). It makes work feel less lonely.

"Rina!" She exclaims when I grab the seat beside her.

"We finally have some time together," I laugh before hugging her.

"Those bastards work you like a dog," She grumbles.

"You too," I pick at my salad. "Your hours are worse than mine."

"Yeah but I don't have the boss barking orders at me every second of the day. Rina's the real champ here, guys." She tells the table. The others clap at that, and we all share a laugh through mouths full of food.

As a couple executives make their way past our table, we stand up and smile at them in respect. But watching our smiles fall as soon as they walked away made me feel bitter.

"I hate how they treat us like trash and we still have to smile and kiss up to them." I whisper.

Al nods immediately. "But it's whatever. The more you kiss up, the better they'll pay you."

I don't respond to that.

Instead, I think back to the stranger I met last night.

Then what you want isn't money. You want more. He told me.

But the amount they pay us should be enough that we take whatever they throw at us.

Right? I mean, this is why everyone dreams of working here.

"Oh, by the way did you guys hear?" Aliyah suddenly whispers. "You know that multibillion dollar company uptown? Todoroki Inc.?"

"The one with all those charity projects?"

Todoroki Inc. was a big name in the industry. Their extreme success is known worldwide - but they're really known for their philanthropic branch: including building orphanages for the poor, handing out 6 figure donations, and the famous Boku no Hero Academia - where they train leaders in every industry to become tomorrow's changemakers, or as they call it "heroes."

Aliyah voice gets lower, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Except turns out Mr. Todoroki has been caught up in major lawsuits these past few months."

I frown. "For what?"

"Apparently there's been several child abuse cases at the orphanages he sponsors."

All around the table, our mouths drops. Usually lunchtime gossip involves the newest couples or breakups of the day. But this...

This has severe implications.

I'm not surprised that Al knows this. She interacts most directly with our guests and stars meaning she's in on a lot of industry gossip. But still...a major lawsuit like this?

"Is this real or is it one of your rumors?" Someone asks her suspiciously.

"It's as real as you or me! I saw videos . Trust me. There's plenty of people with beef against the company. Big boss Todoroki spent heavy money to keep it all hush-hush. But word travels quickly." She leans back in her seat with a smug look on her face. "We'll see how much power Enji really has by how quietly this unfolds."

"That's disgusting." I push my salad away, my appetite gone. "He can't get away with something like that. Where's the accountability?"

"There is no accountability, sweetheart. That's the way it works. You got money and power, you can get yourself out of anything. Besides, Enji has a reputation. He's got supporters everywhere, people see him as a hero because of all these charity projects."

"But they don't know what's happening in those projects!"

Suddenly, I remember something.

The special program!

I have to tell Mr. Lane. If this is really what's happening, we can't air something like this. It'll give people a false image of what the company stands for. Charity projects that have no proper supervision and that serve as places of abuse should never be celebrated.

"I- I have to go. I'll see you later Al, good luck with your schedule today!"

"But-"

"Sorry, I just remembered something I have to do."

I can't let her know about the program just yet. If I'm lucky, it hasn't been formalized into our official programming. I need to get to Mr. Lane before it does...

---

"Mr. Lane!" I barge into his office.

My boss looks up from his desk, slightly concerned at the look on my face. I slow down to catch my breath.

"Sir, about the Todoroki programming you want to set up. We need to cancel it sir, there's- there's a huge lawsuit going on. The orphanages - the kids are being mistreated sir, please-"

Mr. Lane leans back in his seat.

"Ms. Aoki, relax. That's not your concern. The deal is done."

"Sir...this will give a false image of Mr. Todoroki and his company."

"It's not a false image, it's an alternate image. That's what this whole industry is about. Mr. Todoroki is not responsible for what his managers do. And unless you're speaking with legal authority, I suggest you end this conversation now, Ms. Aoki."

"But sir! A program like this will give people cause to celebrate Todoroki Inc., rather than properly probe into these issues. What about the kids? The victims? Sir, please- this is about more than just-"

"This conversation is over, Ms. Aoki."

I try to think of another argument quickly. What else, what else. What could this nimrod possibly care about.

"But sir!" I say quickly. "If this blows up and becomes public knowledge, what will the people say about our company? It'll be bad for our name, we'll lose the respect we have in the industry, don't you think?"

Mr. Lane lets out a deep sigh. "Ms. Aoki, I know you're smarter than this. If the lawsuits go public..." I get worried by the excitement thrumming behind his eyes. "More people will tune in to watch the program. Everyone will be eager to see the other side. If we play our cards right the ratings will be-"

I scoff.

Mr. Lane stops speaking. The sudden ice in his eyes makes my bones go cold, but for once, I can't back down.

"The ratings?" I almost laugh. "Sir, I'm telling you there's kids being abused due to this man's lack of accountability, and you want to use that for profit? What about the truth? What about justice!"

"To hell with truth and to hell with justice!" He slams his fist. Mr. Lane gets up to tower over me. "I make the decisions here, Ms. Aoki. Your job isn't to advise me or to babble on about bullshit like the truth. This is a broadcasting company, and your job is to maximize profits - that's it! Got it?"

I feel my face grow hot.

"You've been running on thin ice for a while now, Ms. Aoki," His voice gets dangerously low.

I bite my tongue.

"I can assure you that no other company would give you the benefits package we've given you. It seems we've spoiled you, haven't we? That's why you're comfortable running your mouth like this."

"Sir, I-"

"I'll see to it that your salary is adjusted appropriately until you learn your lesson. And I warn you," He says through clenched teeth. "I see any of this behavior again, you'll be asking for much more than a salary reduction, Ms. Aoki. Got it?"

-----

Emotions I didn't know I could feel bubble within me. Hatred and rage boil deep in my core. But what can I do? What can I do.

I look from left to right. Trying to find something, anything to throw. Anything to take my anger out on. But when I find nothing, I hurry to the edge of Du Monde's roof. My chest heaves with the weight of my anger.

And as I overlook all of Midtown, and the entire city seems to be under me, I scream.

I scream and then I scream again.

I let out every trapped word that's been aching to escape.

All the swear words stuck to the back of my throat for years.

I release it all into the sky, knowing the wind will carry it for miles.

"Fuck you Mr. Lane!" I screech. "You no good fucking bald-headed, stout faced little piece of-"

"Woah!" I hear someone say.

Suddenly, a pair of arms pulls me back by the waist, as if to restrain me.

Of course, this does nothing but infuriate me more.

"Who the fuck- let me go! Let me go before I fucking rip every single finger off your hands and shove them-"

"Easy!" The voice says again, before releasing me on the ground. "Don't stand so close to the edge, idiot. You could fall."

"If I fucking fall, I want everyone to know it's Mr. Lane's fault! Fucking sue NNTV and put the Court verdict over my fucking grave so I know-"

"Hey! Look at me." The headless voice says. "No one's fucking fall-" He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Listen. I need you to calm down."

I scoff. Calm down? Is he telling me to calm down? With clenched teeth, I turn around. Ready to throw all my fury at this intruder. "Who the hell do you think you are? Don't you dare tell me to calm-"

My mouth drops when I lock eyes with the slightly concerned stranger.

With those electrifying blue orbs.

No.

This isn't a stranger.

Not a total stranger at least.

The man I bought coffee for last week at Du Monde stares back at me.

"...down."

A smile plays on his lips. "Hey. So you remember me."

"What..." I let out an annoyed breath, though it's not as angry as it was a moment ago. "...are you doing here?"

A toothpick sticks out of the corner of his mouth. He pulls it out as he ponders over my question. "Well, I was doing business. And then you decided to let all of New York know you were crazy."

I scoff. "You haven't seen crazy." I mumble.

"You got quite the mouth on ya," He smirks. "A little loud..." He tilts his head, as if considering again. "But you're honest."

I cross my arms and look toward the skyline, ignoring the people cautiously watching us from the other side of the glass. They can whisper to themselves about how crazy I am. This is New York. No one will remember this by tomorrow.

"Thanks. Now if you don't mind, I have other crazy things to do. And don't you have a business to run? People to be an ass to?"

The man tilts his head, as though slightly disappointed. But his lips remain curled. "Now come on. I've been hoping to run into you and you want to leave so soon?"

I frown. "Why would you want to run into me? You aren't a creep, are you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Creep?" He shoots me a pointed look. "There you go making a guy regret being nice," He tsks. "I was hoping to pay you back for the coffee."

He still remembers that?

"You know what," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Normally I'd say no need. But considering I'm probably gonna be jobless soon, I might just take you up on that."

"Well then," He stands up and offers me a hand. "I don't know how much crazy you still got left in ya so let's go somewhere a little closer to the ground."

[wazzupmrstark]

breaking curfew [part eight] || th x reader

A/N: day idk of quarantine. time is meaningless. 

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, prescription drugs, alcohol mention, anxiety mention

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter​ + CALM by 5sos

Word Count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist

You’ve only been x-rayed twice in your entire life- not counting regular trips to the dentist- before now. Once when you thought you broke your ankle, (but it was really just sprained) and another time when you had pneumonia. Still, neither of those times had been quite as intense as this. Maybe that was because your mom wasn’t with you like she had been before. Or maybe it was because Tom, the boy who was pretending to be your boyfriend, the one that had just undressed you minutes ago, was standing just a few feet away behind the glass. Or in all honesty, maybe it was because you were hopped up on codeine, but who could say?

The x-ray technician draped the lead apron over you and told you to hold your breath while she ran back to operate the machine. She had you lay in a few different positions and had a nurse help her move your arm gingerly each time to lessen the strain on your end. 

It was a painful process, but they moved as fast as they could so that you were back in your room within a few minutes. 

“How’re you feeling?” Tom asked as he sat back in the plastic chair by your bedside. 

“Kinda dizzy.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t walk five steps without running into a wall, I practically had to carry you back here.”

“Fuck off!”

“Glad the pain meds haven’t completely altered your personality,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I feel a little nauseous too,” you added and rolled your neck uncomfortably.

Tom sat up a little more, eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you going to throw up? Do I need to get someone?”

“It’s probably fine,” you shrugged.

“I don’t know about that...  you took those meds on an empty stomach- and that’s probably why you’re smashed to hell too.”

“It’s fiiine, Tom.” You yawned. “I just wanna nap.”

He chuckled and pulled the sheet that had been gathered around your waist up to your shoulders and laid it gently over them. 

“That seems like a good idea.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night, y/n.”

It felt like you blinked and you were being shaken awake again. You groaned and attempted to sit up on your elbows, cursing when you tried to put pressure on your injured arm.

“Easy, easy,” Tom said, helping you lay back down on your back. “Um, the doctor’s here, babe.”

“Babe?” you wondered aloud, still clearly disoriented as fuck. 

“Yeah, love. He’s here to tell you about your arm.”

Tom was pretending to be your boyfriend. Right. That made a lot more sense. Why else would he call you babe? 

The doctor introduced himself to you and Tom and talked briefly about what he was looking for in the x-rays as he set them up in the light display for you both to see. 

“So the bad news is that your arm is broken,” he explained, and you felt your heart sink even though you knew it was coming. “But the good news is that it’s just a minor fracture- barely visible on your radius there. It’ll only take about four to six weeks to heal in a cast, and you’ll be good as new.”

You bit your bottom lip wilted visibly. “Six weeks? The summer will be over by then!”

“It shouldn’t be an issue, unless you’re involved in a super active sport or-”

“We’re camp counselors-” Tom said abruptly, irritation at the edge of his voice.

“Oh, yes well you might run into some complications, but you should still be able to do most everything. Even with a cast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” he nodded. “I’ll print out a couple pamphlets and some other literature for you on how to care for your arm and cast and etcetera, and you should be fine.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’ll also prescribe you some pain killers. Probably not as strong as the codeine they gave you earlier, but a lighter dosage for a few days before switching to extra-strength ibuprofen might help you get back into the swing of things.”

You just nodded, not really understanding any of the words he was saying. You hoped Tom absorbed more of it than you did because you were honestly checked the fuck out. 

“I’m just going to grab the plaster and gauze for your cast and I’ll be right back. What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” you said without a second thought.

Tom waited until the doctor was gone before giving you a confused look. “Why’d you say that?”

You gave him the same look back. “What do you mean?”

“Orange isn’t your favorite color.”

“Says who?”

“Your favorite color’s always been green.”

“H-how’d you know that?”

“You really think I don’t remember you cheating your way onto the green team at mega relay every summer?”

“I would not cheat!” you argued.

“You’re supposed to pick a headband out of the box randomly! I don’t think peeking through your fingers and conveniently grabbing a green one every single time counts as random.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence, so good luck proving that in court.”

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “Damn, who said anything about court?”

“I just like being prepared.”

“But wait, why did you get orange?”

You shook your head absentmindedly and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s Theo’s favorite color. I thought she’d like it.” 

“That’s... really sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Holland. I can be nice sometimes.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Before you could say anything snarky back the doctor came back in with a written prescription and everything he needed to set and wrap your arm. You tensed and looked away as he set to work on it, using an alcoholic wipe to sanitize your hand and forearm before wrapping it.  

“You can hold her other hand if you want, Tom,” the doctor said, probably thinking that would reassure you, even though in reality it made you way more anxious. 

You had reached for his hand just a few minutes ago, unprompted. But in your defense, you were very out of it. You were still out of it now, but the thought doing it again was ironically making your hands sweat. You guys didn’t really know each other... like that, and even though it was just pretend it felt weirdly intimate.You wouldn’t blame him if he stayed put where he was.

But to your surprise, Tom didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. His palm was a little clammy too, which was a relief. You didn’t want to be the only one with a sweaty hand and gross him out or something, even if you were the one in agonizing pain. 

You squeezed tight as your arm was moved into position for the cast. It hurt like a bitch and for a hot second the nausea returned and you thought you might pass out. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” the doctor asked casually as he worked. “Tom, if I’m not mistaken you’re English? And y/n you’re not? How did that play out?”

“We met at work,” Tom said without missing a beat. 

You were kind of taken aback by how seriously he was taking his role. It really didn’t matter if he was actually your boyfriend or not, it’s not like he’d get kicked out if they found out he wasn’t. 

“At the summer camp?”

“Yeah, it’s really well-known for its international program. We get a lot of campers from all over.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you long distance during the year then?”

You and Tom traded looks with each other. Why did you have to get stuck with the chattiest orthopedic surgeon ever? Your fucking luck.

“We are, yeah.” Tom answered for you both again. “We trade off who visits who. We’ve both been in school so we don’t get to see each other very often, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Summers must be nice then, no? You get to see each other all the time.”

He forced a chuckle. “You have no idea.”

-

The girls practically tackled you the second you got back to camp, and you were immediately bombarded with a chorus of “can I sign it? can I sign it?” from every single one of them. 

“You can all sign it!” you promised. “After you brush your teeth!”

You had never seen them so excited to get ready for bed ever. They were almost giddy about it. 

Your arm was still pretty sore, and the pills were starting to wear off, but you were glad to finally be back in your cabin. You couldn’t wait to knock the heck out and sleep for as long as possible. 

The ride back from the emergency room had been much more peaceful than the ride there. Zendaya was a little pissed you’d disappeared from the waiting room without a word, she was mostly just glad you were getting to go home and rest. You ate your fries and chicken nuggets in the car, and accidentally ended up dozing off on Tom a few times, only to be jostled awake by bumps in the road. 

And now that the day was winding down you could relax and spend some time with your campers. 

“Me first!” Theo exclaimed, racing up to you with toothpaste still in her mouth. You laughed as she scribbled her name in jagged letters across your arm, putting a smiley face in the O. “We have the same favorite color!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her so you just laughed and nodded. “Now, go spit your toothpaste out before you choke!”

May was next. She signed her name right where your pinky was, almost as if she was trying to hide it. Amalia wrote her name in cursive just above your elbow, Grace signed her name with a heart at the end right next to Amalia’s, and Eva scrawled hers on top of your hand at the edge of your cast. 

You admired the girls’ masterpiece and showed it off to them. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s cool!” Amalia said, and the other girls added their agreements. “I’ve always wanted a cast!”

“Me too!” Grace chimed in. “Or crutches!” 

“I think it’ll definitely make me stand out,” you said as you sat on the floor and settled against one of the bunks for your girls’ daily Good Night Circle. 

“Maybe it’ll help you get a boyfriend!” Theo piped up, now wearing her big metal retainers.

“Or a girlfriend?” Evangeline pointed out very matter-of-factly.

The others were quick to jump on board. 

“Maybe one of the other counselors will see it and fall in love with you!”

“Do you want a boyfriend or a girlfriend?”

“We could help you!”

“Yeah! My dad says I’m a really good matchmaker!”

“You girls are silly!” you said, sighing in exasperation. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

There was less resistance than usual- maybe they were taking pity on you because you were broken- but there were still the typical whines and protests as you tucked them in. 

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” you said in a singsong voice as turned off the lights and climbed into your own bed. 

And you finally.... laid there staring at the ceiling. For hours. Despite being completely drained in every sense of the word, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t get comfortable with your arm bent at a weird angle. And were you remembering everything that had happened that day wrong- or had Tom actually helped you get undressed? And then get dressed? Had he really held your hand? Twice?

You wiggled your fingers as if the movement would replicate the feeling of his hand in yours, or give you an answer of some kind, but of course there was nothing. Just that same emptiness you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

Realistically, you knew all of those things really had happened, and even if you couldn’t remember the specifics, you remembered the little things. Like the pink tint that highlighted Tom’s cheeks when he edged the straps of your swimsuit down your shoulders, or the rough calluses that had tickled your palms when you held hands with him. They reminded you that it wasn’t all some weird dream... or nightmare, rather. 

You pushed your covers off, suddenly feeling very hot. You sat upright and took a few deep breaths to steady yourself, trying to force all the thoughts from your mind. Thinking about Tom in a positive manner was one of, if not the number one way your brain could betray you. Even barely brushing the subject had you breaking out into a cold sweat. The boy was really living rent free in your mind and not in a good way. 

Everything felt wrong, and not for the first time this summer you wished you could pour yourself a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t help with any of your problems, but it sure would take the edge off. 

Even though it was futile, you flopped back on your bed in the hope that sleep would have mercy on you and finally let you rest. You shut your eyes and tried a few of the meditation methods you’d learned from YouTube to make yourself sleepy, but even then you couldn’t shake the low buzz of anxiety that nudged at the back of your mind.

Fucking Tom Holland. 

If you weren’t going to get any sleep you might as well waste time on your phone. You unlocked it, fought the urge to google ‘can you pass out if you punch yourself hard enough,’ and opened Twitter instead. You didn’t need to show up to breakfast with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow morning. 

Your eyelids were finally starting to feel heavy and the screen on your phone was getting dimmer and dimmer as you began to drift off when sudden knocking at your window startled you out of your half-asleep state. 

The first thought you had was that someone was trying to break in, but then you remembered that you were at a summer camp and there was literally nothing valuable in the cabin so you let yourself relax a little bit. 

When you squinted a bit, you recognized the figure on the other side of the glass and flicked them off with your casted hand, even though you were fairly sure they couldn’t see you sitting there in the dark. It was confirmed when they knocked again and you had to scramble to push open the window so they wouldn’t wake your campers- at this God-forsaken hour. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

this one was tricky to get figure out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[doc-pickles]

i won’t hesitate (for you) chapter eight

Jo is happy, at least she feels like she is. When someone from her past shows up, will her and her daughter’s world ever go back to normal? Or will things change for good?

Hey friends... So it's been over a month.... I bet you guys thought this story was done... Honestly for a moment I did too and I was super bummed because I love this story so much. But stepping away from my writing and focusing on myself did the trick and I am now happy to report that I have the WHOLE ENTIRE rest of Hesitate planned out and I'm slowly (very slowly) chipping away at writing to make those plans a reality. Thanks to all of you for being so patient and for wanting me to continue this project!! You're the beeeeeest!! xoxo Nina

-

“Jo… Jo come back to bed, baby. Alarm doesn’t go off for ten minutes.”

Izzie stared down Alex’s still sleeping figure, watching him for a moment before continuing to walk around the room and get ready for the day. Every morning for the past week, Alex would always call out for Jo when Izzie got out of bed for work. She didn’t think he knew, but the words annoyed her more and more everyday.

“Babe, come back,” Alex groaned, rolling on to his stomach and reaching out for the side of the bed that Izzie had just left. “Jo… Jo…”

“I’m not Jo, Alex,” Izzie exclaimed in frustration, prompting Alex to fly up in bed and look from the empty side of the bed to Izzie. “I am not Jo! And I never will be and if that’s a problem for you, then you can run back to Seattle!”

“Izzie no… I’m sorry I,” Alex ran a hand through his hair and let out a groan. “I wanna stay here for the kids but I… I don’t think you and I are going to work out this time.”

“Why would it ever? You’re just the same pathetic man I left ten years ago,” Izzie threw a pillow towards Alex as she walked out of the bedroom. “I can’t believe you, Alex. Actually I can! You’re still not good enough for me.”

-

Deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Good, you can do this. Today will be a breeze.

Jo had found out about her pregnancy a month ago and every day since then had consisted of her trying to keep her breakfast down. Some days were better than others, but today might be the worst. She’d had to break out her elastic banded scrubs this morning because her regular scrubs wouldn’t pull up over her hips. The elastic was much more comfortable, but the thought of her body changing again had sent Jo into a fit of tears on the bathroom floor which resulted in her throwing up for almost 20 minutes.

“Karev! I’ve got an abdominal obstruction and I think we’re gonna need an emergency colostomy surgery,” Owen sidled up to Jo as the two walked into the ER, the older man sending Jo a grin. “But that’s up to you of course. Good luck!”

Jo grabbed the chart outside Trauma Room 2, entering the room with a forced smile. Her stomach had been flipping back and forth since she woke up this morning and she’d thrown up twice before she came into work. Apparently her baby was not happy to be residing in her uterus.

“Hi Mr. Little, I'm Doctor Karev and I’m gonna check you out real quick and we’ll see where to go from there,” Jo tried to put on a happy face as her stomach churned unpleasantly. She grabbed her stethoscope and began her routine check. “You said you’ve been having stomach pain, how long has that been going on for?”

“About three days,” the older man let out a groan as Jo began to palpate his abdomen. “Oh that’s not a pleasant feeling. A little softer dear or…”

Jo looked up as her patient fell silent, watching in abject horror as the man leaned forward and vomited across his lap. Moving as quickly as she could, Jo leapt back but was greeted with blowback across her chest and arms.

“Oh god,” Jo’s stomach flipped a final time before she turned to her left and emptied her stomach onto the floor of the ER. Jo felt as if the whole room was staring her down as she stood next to a pile of her own vomit. It was as if those dreams of going to school naked had come alive, a feeling of horror washing over Jo as she processed what had just happened.

“What the hell is happening,” Owen rushed over, looking from Jo to her patient, who was staring at her in shock. “Mr. Little, I’ll get you another doctor right away. And someone to help you clean up. Karev, follow me.”

Turning to follow Owen, Jo paused as the scent of vomit overwhelmed her senses once again. Stepping around Owen, Jo leaned over the closest trash bin and emptied her stomach again, a strangled cry leaving her as the acid burned her throat.

“You can go home,” Owen was standing behind Jo now, a gentle hand resting on her back as she stayed bent over. “We’ll survive without you. Go home, Jo.”

A heavy sigh left Jo as she nodded to Owen, standing up and heading upstairs for the attendings lounge. She hadn’t even been out of the house for an hour and she felt like the whole day was going down the drain.

Pressing a hand against the growing swell of her stomach, Jo silently begged the little life resting there to just calm down for the rest of the day. Her almost 12 week bump was harder to camouflage, but Jo knew that the closer she came to her second trimester the less her morning sickness would be an issue. She let out a heavy sigh, head popping up as the empty elevator chimed, signaling that it had arrived at its destination and was kicking Jo off into reality.

“I’m looking for Doctor Karev, it’s not a hard question to answer!”

Jo groaned as she turned a corner, not wanting to deal with anyone else today. Her job came first though, so she walked to the nurses station and put on a brave face.

“I’m Doctor Karev, what’s the issue,” Jo looked from the nurse to the woman standing in front of her, feeling as if she’d just been punched in the gut. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jo had never met Izzie Stevens, but the woman was unmistakable.  Her painted lips turned down at the sight of Jo standing in front of her, obviously disappointed that she wasn’t Alex. The perfectly curled blonde hair and full face of makeup didn’t sit well with Jo, realizing with a flash of anger exactly why the woman was there.

“I’m not here for you, I’m here for Alex,” Izzie came around to stand a few feet in front of Jo, arms crossed as she stared her down. “Why don’t you tell me where your ex husband is and we can all get along.”

“Oh I am not starting with you today, you need to take your pathetic ass back to Kansas,” Jo took a step forward, arms crossing to mirror Izzie’s stance. She knew she was attracting attention, she could see Levi frantically grasping for his pager out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You know as well as I do that Alex doesn’t want to see you. You fucked him over and he’s moved on. And I know damn well he’s not going to want to talk to you.”

Izzie stared at Jo for a moment, her lips finally turning into a smile as she began to laugh at her. Jo could feel her blood boiling, her heart rate pounding loudly in her ears as she clenched her fists in an attempt to keep herself planted in her spot.

“Oh please, I’m sure that bratty kid of yours isn’t even his either, stop putting on this picture perfect princess show,” Izzie chuckled, narrowing her eyes as she saw Jo’s face redden. “Oh did I hit a nerve? Serves you right you-”

“You’re a sorry excuse for a mom if you think putting your kids through what you did was the right thing,” Jo’s voice rose and she took a final step towards Izzie, her face inches from the older woman’s. She shouldn’t retaliate, but Izzie had gotten under Jo’s skin and she wasn’t going to let her get the last word.

“And you’re a shitty person on top of that for what you dragged Alex through. So you can talk about your stupid children of the corn and you can even talk about how much you fucked over Alex, but you do not get to talk about MY daughter. If I hear her name in your mouth again, so help me I will drag you back to Kansas by your hair myself you self absorbed home wrecking psycho.”

That set Izzie off, her hands coming up for Jo just as Alex ran up and pulled her away from the blonde. Jo, for what it was worth, was thankful that he’d come when he did because she wasn’t entirely sure that she could have kept her hands to herself.

“Jesus Christ! Don't you dare lay a hand on her Izzie,” Alex’s voice bellowed through the halls as he stared down his ex. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“Well I came to check on you, but it seems that your washed up ex here has you fooled once again. Are you even sure this one is yours? Or maybe she trapped you on purpose this time,” Izzie sneered, eyes roaming down to Jo’s stomach. The dark blue scrubs were pulled tight against her abdomen as Alex held her, making it clear as day that she was pregnant. “You’re lucky you’re pregnant, I would ha-”

“You’re lucky I’m pregnant,” Jo yelled back, Alex tightening his grip on her as she tried to break away from him. “You’d be out cold right now if I wasn’t you stupid bitch!”

“I don’t want you here Iz, and I really don’t appreciate you yelling at Jo like that,” Jo could feel the anger radiating off of Alex as he set Izzie straight. She could tell that Alex’s firm grip on her arms wasn’t just to her benefit, but his too as he held back his barely restrained rage. “Might I remind you that you’re the one that spent three years lying to my face about the paternity of your kids.”

“Now what the hell is happening in my hospital,” all three doctors turned as Miranda Bailey walked up to the scene, Meredith trailing behind her with a sour look on her face. “Izzie Stevens, I know damn well you’re not standing here right now screaming and threatening to physically attack a doctor of this hospital, and a pregnant one at that.”

“Doctor Bailey, I-”

“That’s enough from you,” Bailey fixed Izzie with a glare, eyes narrowing threateningly as she looked upon the doctor she’d once known so well. “You’re going to turn around and walk out of here and you are not to set foot in Grey Sloan again unless they bring you in a damn ambulance or so help me I will have the police here faster than you can say ‘LVAD wire’. Are we clear?” Watching the situation in front of her play out, Jo could feel the familiar pull of anxiety coursing through her. She’d been able to keep it at bay since Alex had come back home, but the ocean of worry and fear began to crest in her stomach again. Her heart began to beat unsteadily as she brought her hand to cover Alex’s on her arm, her feet feeling more unsteady the longer she dwelled on what just happened.

“Jo? You okay?”

Jo’s eyes snapped up to Meredith, who was looking at her quizzically. She could feel Alex tensing behind her, his grip on her tightening as he looked her over. She could feel herself begin to sweat and her forehead heating up as she leaned her weight against Alex.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, I’m just a little anxious,” Jo knew as soon as the words came out that Alex would understand what she meant. The nerves in her body were shot and she was pretty sure she’d pass out if she attempted to move out of Alex’s arms. She lowered her voice as she squeezed Alex’s hand, “I just really need to get out of here. Please.”

Alex nodded to Meredith before he began to lead Jo away from the tense hallway, his arms never leaving their place around her shoulders as they headed for the attendings lounge. Her breathing was ragged by the time she sat on the couch in the lounge, Alex’s hand running over her back as sobs began to well up from within her.

“You don’t believe her right? You don’t think I lied to you about Harper or this baby do you,” Jo tried to keep herself composed as she looked up at Alex, but the sad expression on his face made her begin to cry even more. “I swear I wouldn’t do that to you Alex, please don’t believe her.”

“Jo don’t listen to a word that comes out of her mouth. I know you’d never lie to me like that,” Alex wrapped his arm around Jo, bringing her into his side as she continued to cry. “I know you’re not trying to trap me, I know you. You’re a brilliant surgeon, an excellent mother and a fantastic wife, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Jo felt the wave of anxiety crash inside of her finally, Alex’s words doing little to ease her thoughts as she continued to sob loudly. She held a hand to her chest as her mind began to reel from the words that had been thrown at her.

“I can’t… I can’t breathe,” Jo choked out between sobs, gasping loudly as she tried in vain to calm herself down. “I’m so sorry… Alex I’m sorry.”

“Babe, look at me, come on Jo,” Alex held his fingers under Jo’s chin and waited for her to look up and meet his eyes. “Breathe with me, in and out. You’re not doing yourself or the baby any good by freaking out. Deep breaths, there you go.”

Jo’s breathing evened out as she followed Alex’s instructions, moving a hand down to cradle her stomach as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. When she was satisfied, she leaned her head against Alex’s forehead and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry it’s just… I wasn’t expecting that today. Or ever,” Jo let a low chuckle out, eyes fluttering open to meet Alex’s. “And I might’ve thrown up on the ER floor earlier but that’s not important.”

“Yeah you smell like fish guts,” Alex joked as he pressed a kiss to Jo’s hair. “Let’s go get Harper and go home. We can put on a movie and relax, okay?”

“That sounds like the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

+

“She picked the movie, I had no say in it,” Jo walked out of the bathroom and looked from Alex to Harper with a smirk. “Come on Jo, you know I can’t say no to her.”

“I know you can’t, you’re a big softie.”

Jo settled into Alex's left side, his hand coming around her to settle his hand against the curve of her stomach as Harper cuddled deeper into his right side. She’d showered and changed while Alex and Harper had set up in the living room to watch Moana upon Harper’s insistence. After their unsettling morning, neither of them wanted to be anywhere else.

“I’m sorry about what happened, if I had even the slightest idea that she would come here I would have told you Jo, believe me,” Alex’s tone was hushed as he kept his eyes on Harper. “That part of my life is over, I’m going to file a protective order for all three of us tomorrow.”

“Alex, I-”

“No, I can’t keep going to work worrying about you two every second of the day,” Alex finally turned his gaze back to Jo, eyes scanning her worriedly. “I… when I went back to Kansas to settle everything Izzie pulled some crazy stuff. Things I didn’t think she was capable of and things I don’t want you or Harper or this little one to be subjected to. So please, let me do this so I can feel like I’m doing something to help.”

Burrowing her head into Alex’s chest, Jo nodded and used one hand to run through Harper’s curls. The little girl meant more to her than anything, along with her sibling still growing in Jo’s womb. Her and Alex could agree on that much, so she would let him do what he felt was needed to protect them.

“Daddy quiet,” Harper poked at Alex and then pointed back to the television. “Watch movie.”

Jo felt Alex’s chest rumble as he laughed at Harper, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years as she enjoyed the quiet evening with her daughter and her… well Alex was definitely something. She wasn’t eager to label things, afraid it would disrupt the sense of peace they’d fallen into, but she had a good feeling about their relationship this time around.

“Mm I found another house for us to look at this weekend, it’s close to the hospital and it has a big backyard,” Jo looked up to Alex, who’s eyes were already on her. “I think we should put an offer in on this one. Trust me.” “I do, I’d trust you with my life,” a knock sounded at the door, Alex prying himself away from both girls who had no problems voicing their displeasure with him. “Sorry girls, I gotta get the pizza and I know neither of you were going to stand up and get it.”

“Just gives me an excuse to cuddle with Harps here,” Jo pulled Harper into her lap, the little girl giggling as her mom wrapped her up in her arms.

Jo and Harper sat in silence for a minute, intently watching the movie playing out. When Alex didn’t return, Jo turned around to see what he was up to, only to find him still standing by the door.

“Alex?”

“She’s taking me to court,” Alex muttered, holding up a small stack of papers. “Izzie served me and she’s taking me to court for child support.”

[black-quadrant]

at long last, i give you chapter 2 of my demon AU! not as thrilling as chapter 1, unless you like a bunch of exposition! we’ll get to the juicy stuff soon enough. thanks for the interest and motivation to build out this AU!

He could have sworn he hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol last night. Even a skeptic like him could assume spirits and real spirits would mix as well as oil and water, but ultimately he was staying sober for his friends in case they got themselves into some kind of actual real living trouble beyond their impulsivity to raise the dead, or... whatever.

So why did he feel completely hung the fuck over? Every muscle in his body ached, even ones he didn’t know he had, or hadn’t used since he was forced to play team sports in school (those were the days... not).

Nevertheless, he peeled himself out of bed, bracing himself for the morni-- er, afternoon. After... noon? With a soul-deep groan, Neku dragged himself into the shower, using that time to scavenge his memories of last night, picking up every mental fragment until he'd reached the end of the evening, where he crashed into bed. And the next conscious anything was a disturbingly vivid dream about being assaulted in said bed by what vaguely looked to be an arguably pretty boy packing a full set of gnashing teeth and ultraviolet whorls for eyes. The kind of nightmare vision appeal that made you hard for danger, the kind of unnerving midnight visitor that people wished would steal in and violate them in the comfort of their own room. And what followed... that made Neku stop everything, and crank the shower dial to blast himself with ice water.

He did not have time to indulge sordid fantasies. That was a hell of a dream though; he couldn’t recall the last time he’d dreamt so vividly. He’d have to... circle back around to that one later.

Right now he needed to rejoin society, and hopefully the flood of city stimuli will dilute and filter out this undercurrent of indistinct eeriness.

A cup of coffee was a good start. That, and an apology, both for bailing on his friends, and for, well, his friends. Taking to the streets, armed with his headphones (he never left home without them), he cranked up the volume until he could no longer hear Shibuya and meandered the all too familiar path to Wildkat Cafe.

He’s taking a gamble here at the shop being open, as it’s known for its proprietor’s inconsistent (putting it lightly) hours, but he’s in luck; it’s open, and Mr. H, upon spotting him, waved him in.

“’Ey, Phones!” He didn’t need hear him to read his lips and know he’s greeting him by his exasperating nickname. He used to think Mr. H simply forgot his name, but after countless attempts to try to replace it with his actual name, and even going without his headphones for a week to train him out of it, he’d resigned himself to his unchanging fate. But such was the nature of nicknames, right? You don’t always want them.

“Hey, Mr. H.” Draping said `phones’ around his neck, Neku strolled in, making his way to the counter where the barista was stationed, currently cleaning down the counter. “I, uh... wanted to say sorry for last night. I--”

Neku paused abruptly as a shadow fell over Hanekoma’s expression, smothering the air of congeniality he had about him. It’s the first time Neku’s ever seen him look so aggravated. It’s not until Hanekoma spoke that he realized he was staring past him.

“Does he know you’re stalking him, J?”

“You’re always ruining my fun, Mr. H.”

Neku spun toward the source of the undeniably snide tone, finding himself gawking at the face that starred in his tawdry dream last night.

“Hello, Neku.” He smiled with normal human teeth. A small comfort.

“... what the fuck?! Where did you come from? There was no one here a second ago.” Neku cast Hanekoma a wide-eyed glance full of disbelief. “...was there?”

Hanekoma barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“Who the fuck is this? Why do you know my name?” Something deeply, disturbingly intuitive Neku refused to acknowledge told him he knew the answer.

“I’m hurt. We met just last night.” It’s then that Neku noticed the petite violet horns seated atop that fluffy head. They couldn’t be bigger than two inches. It’s not like it’s out of place for the season, but it’s a bit too campy for Neku’s taste. Just as he was about to mock them, something brushed his arm.

A legitimate demon tail, complete with spade tip.

“Seriously? You’re wearing that out in public?” He swatted it away, eliciting a squeak of alarm from the little weirdo.

“Gentle. It’s not a costume prop.”

Neku backed himself up to the counter, again looking to the barista for help.

“You know damn well you’re not supposed to be in the RG.” He regarded said little weirdo with such familiarity that he was chastising him. RG? Too much is happening at once. Neku slammed a hand on the counter. "Hello?? I did not meet you, not last night or ever.”

The blonde simply smirked.

“Joshua... that ring a bell?”

The name, combined with his tone, struck him like lightning, and all at once the image flashed back into his mind. Horrorterror teeth, clawed hands, unmistakeable purple eyes--

“...holy shit.”

“There’s nothin’ holy ‘bout him--”

“Mr. H, would you like me to spill your secrets?”

“Which one?” The barista countered with a grin, and Neku literally and figuratively stepped out of their crossfire and snatched Joshua by a horn, cringing at discovering that it’s fixed to his skull. Joshua hissed, but didn’t move.

“Tell me now.”

“Don’t you remember? Your friends didn’t close the door. But don’t worry, I closed it behind me.” Neku released his grip and took a step back, finally understanding. It wasn’t a fever dream. Wasn’t even a normal dream. It had happened, it--

“You were in my bedroom--” Neku’s face went beet red. Joshua giggled knowingly.

“No, we didn’t do that. That was me feeding you some... prospects. Or perhaps it was a premonition?”

“You’re fucking gross.”

“Anyway,” Hanekoma interjected, “Joshua here is, I guess what you would call a demon.” Joshua huffed at being outed.

“This,” Neku gestured vaguely at the `boy’ “is not what I saw last night. Last night I would believe what I saw was indeed a demon. This is just a campy ruse.”

“Well, technically, you’re spot on.” Joshua affirmed, his sinuously long, slender tail swaying behind him, not unlike a cat’s. “Clearly you’re not a demon enthusiast or you’d know that we can take human shape, so that we can walk among you...” Joshua slunk over to the counter, tapping an empty mug in a silent entreaty for coffee. “Just like angels...right, Mr. H?” Hanekoma ignored him for the espresso machine.

“... okay... okay, okay, this has crossed over from fucking weird to goddamn cursed. I have so many questions I don’t even want the answers to, but I’ll summarize all of them: what do you want?��

Joshua, leaning casually against the counter, turned to Neku with a delighted grin.

“You. I like you. You’re a one in a million find in this city.” Behind the counter, brewing Joshua’s cup, Hanekoma scoffed. “You’re sensitive on an energetic level. I’d like us to spend some quality time... and I have been so bored. I was drawn to you because I can see you are bored, too.”

Neku opened his mouth to protest, but he instantly thought better of it. He’s not sure how Joshua could smell the utter ennui on him, but he’d chalk it up to Demonic Shit because he was getting a massive headache from information overload.

“As fun as hanging out with you and being tormented at night sounds, I’ll pass. I’ve got a life to live that I’m not going to piss away entertaining a demon masquerading as a human. The horns and tail are doing nothing for you human passing, by the way.”

“You want to send me back then, Neku? Do you even know how?” This motherfucker. Neku grit his teeth, biting back the urge to slap the pretty off his face.

“Besides, you won’t even see me during the day. I’ll make myself absent to the eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I can hop between... dimensions. We’ll say dimensions. You won’t even know I’m there.”

“So you can stalk me some more?”

“Alright, boys, simmer down. `I’ll make your cup a’joes for the road, an’ you can go out an’ get acquainted.”

“You’re not off the hook.” Neku said sharply. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet about this the whole time. Obviously you two are acquainted. What is your relationship to this little cryptid?”

“I’ll tell ya all ‘bout it later, Phones. You have my word.” He pushed the cups forward. “On the house.” Hanekoma never offered free coffee. This did not bode well for Neku, who could tell he’d have to put up with a pet demon until he learned how to slam dunk him back to his own dimension.

“...fine. Are you gonna put away the costume props?”

“No one but you will see my very real extensions of myself. There’s my compromise.”

Neku rolled his eyes.

“You have to get the hell out of here if I go see my friends. I am not explaining you. That’s my compromise.”

“Brr... so cold.” Joshua cozied up to Neku’s side, clearly intent on testing his boundaries (and his wrath). “Take me out to lunch, and I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“I can’t believe this...”

Those purple eyes, for a split second, flare with the glow of last night.

“Oh, Neku... you will. You will.”

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

After leaving the Inn, a group of heroes led by Sam Wilson headed to the Town Museum. It was there that the items & weapons that had been confiscated by the town were inventoried along with a fragment of the Reality Stone. Things couldn’t be too easy of course, and the group ran into U.S. Agent and Elektra. There was no time to waste. The mission was simple: get your gear and get out. Town Hall was waiting.

These events come AFTER the INN and BEFORE the HOSPITAL and TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

MATT MURDOCK: Matt entered the museum first, the rest of the group filing in after him. There wasn’t exactly a welcoming party at the door as one might have expected, so things took on an eerie quiet for the time being, as if Zemo’s cohorts were spiders, waiting for them to stumble into their web. Matt blinked and Elektra’s alternate face flashed behind his eyelids. He swallowed harshly, unsure of how the encounter was about to go down, but eager to get things going either way. “What’s the plan here, Sam — ?”

SAM WILSON: “We get in, we get out stuff and we get out. Seems easy, but, I’m gettin’ the feeling that nothing is here. My guess is they’re going to need all the help they can get at the Town Hall.”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: The town was a facade that had shattered. Chaos was eating its way out of the cracks and running rampant on the streets. The inmates of Pleasant Hill had come back in full force. The former sheriff had tried to intervene before she had felt the shiver run down her spine as well. Still clad in her officer uniform, Zemo’s request to play guard at the Museum had been indulged only because she wanted to see who was going to show up. One shoulder resting against the wall of the vault, the assassin watched the supposed heroes trickle in. Better her to see them than Walker or Bullseye. “Theft is still illegal in Pleasant Hill.” A wolves smile appeared on her face. “More or less.”

MATT MURDOCK: “Elektra,” Matt gasped, the name falling past his lips without his consent. She had been missing this entire time, and his search had been fruitless, but here she was, playing sheriff in this fucked up Westview/Stepford hybrid. Unaware if she too had been woken up from the memory of her false past, Matt refused to speak up, so as to not cause any more trouble than they already had to deal with.

STEVE ROGERS: Steve wasn’t familiar with either individual dressed in red, but if Sam was willing to work with them, they had to be assets. At Elektra’s comment, though, Steve’s eyes lingered on her briefly. “Let’s just be sure.” Steve said. If it turned out there was nothing there, then at least they could cross it off the list. “I’m gonna spread out, start looking.” and with that he broke off to find whatever it was a piece of a reality stone looked like.

GWEN STACY: Feeling incredibly naked, Gwen followed closely behind Steve. “Where do you think they hide alien life forms?”

STEVE ROGERS: Steve glanced at Gwen from his peripheral before his eyes returned to scanning the area as they walked. “Don’t know...—but in my experience, after your first alien or two y’kinda just know one when you see ‘em.” cosmic forces included. “They don’t really blend in.” a beat “Unless they’re skrulls.”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: “Matthew.” The name was said quietly, fondly. Holding both hands out in front of her, the device that Zemo’s lackey Fixer had created to counteract the Reality Stone hummed. Returned to the red and black uniform she had entered the town in, Elektra approached. “They’re going to get attacked, you know. Zemo told John Walker to make himself at home, be territorial.”

GWEN STACY: “It’s a symbiote,” Gwen elaborated even though he hadn’t asked. She was pretty sure she’d never actually sustained a conversation with him before, but Miles and Cindy weren’t there.  Symbiotes responded to sound. That was known. It seemed too risky to attempt a whistle though, so Gwen just looked around for a jar or something of the kind.

MATT MURDOCK: Matt froze as Elektra's appearance shifted back to the one he was much more familiar with. A mixture of relief and worry left a sour feeling in his stomach. This was all coming to a close, and soon. And by their luck, things would likely get messy. "I think they can hold their own against Walker. It's Zemo I'm concerned about. We can't let him go through with whatever he's planning, Elektra. It could be disastrous."

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: She shook her head, dark hair swinging. “Zemo is a megalomaniac, Matthew. You’ve faced those before, no? I have no desire to be on the losing side of this. The stakes are too high. There’s a vault in the middle of the museum behind a portrait of a star. That’s where the  Stone fragment is. It’s what Zemo wants but he can’t have.” Dark lips tugged downwards. “I missed you.” Real? Fake? A bit of both.

STEVE ROGERS: “What’s a symbiote-?” Steve started to ask but before he could finish, something came hurling out of nowhere. The first one whizzed by him, hurling straight for Sam. Steve’s head whipped back around to search for the source, activating the vibranium gauntlets strapped to his wrists that T’Challa had given him. Instead he had just enough time to throw his arm up and block the second object flung in their direction. It bounced off his shield gauntlet and ricochet right back to its owner: “Walker.” Steve said.

JOHN WALKER: So he’d been stripped of the Cap title and shoved in a prison — turned inside out with the face of someone else just to have the Avengers show up and try to cause more problems than already existed. They didn’t know when to stop making things worse, so he wasn’t surprised to see Sam—maybe a little surprised to see Rogers, though. Whoever the hell else was with them. “Traitor.” Walker said, regarding the former Captain. “What are you doing here, Sam? Go home. You don’t belong here. None of you do.”

MATT MURDOCK: Matt took a few steps backwards, his own expression having yet to betray his true feelings. He had to get this information to Sam - or Steve - or whoever else would be there to listen. The search for missing weaponry and armor had stretched out to neighboring rooms, but Matt could just make out the beginnings of a confrontation between Walker and many others. Was Elektra allowing him to leave? It was shocking, but possible. "I have to help them - I've gotta go, Elektra --" I missed you. Matt gave no response, but his expression said otherwise.

SAM WILSON: Sam held up a hand, wincing slightly as he caught the shield with one hand and his bicep strained from the effort to stop it. “Belong here? I think I do. Got some wings with my name on ‘em, and my friends were being held against their will. You know how  that feels, don’t you?”

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: He was walking away. If he asked, she would have helped him. She didn’t know the Vault codes but it could be cracked. Elektra wanted to help, to be whole. She wasn’t a Pleasant Hill caricature anymore, but he turned and left without returning the sentiment. Matthew felt the same. Elektra had trained herself to respond to the dips of his voice and twitches of his face. Did he not trust her? Maybe. She watched his form recede before stepping back into the shadows.

JOHN WALKER: John caught the second shield when it returned to him, eyes trained on Sam. “Yeah, that’s right. I do. And what did any of you do about it besides show up late?” He asked.

SAM WILSON: “Better late than never?” Sam asked wryly. “Look, three Captain America’s. We can sort this out.”

KATE BISHOP: Unabashedly eavesdropping, Kate had listened in on Matt and Elektra and was hightailing it towards Steve and Sam. “Picture of the Star. Vault.” She spoke in a quiet rush to Sam, grabbing his arm. “The Stone.”

GWEN STACY: Gwen was going to break down the complicated facts behind sentient alien goo when shields were being thrown and she was ducking for cover. Choosing to take that moment to break off, it took a few minutes for Gwen to find a clay statue that looked like a spider. Wincing as she knocked it over, spiders spilled out from inside and quickly covered her body. There was a a moment of blackness as the symbiote reconnected with its host and Gwen left for Town Hall.

JOHN WALKER: “Look, whatever it is you think you came here for—turn around and leave. Nobody needs you here.” The world had cast him aside the second he made his first mistake amidst war. He had no reason to return to the shambled title he’d been left with after they dishonorably discharged him for avenging his best friend. “Honestly Sam, you’re walking in the light today but what about tomorrow? Eventually  you’re gonna do something they don’t like and they’ll toss you aside just like yesterdays trash. — happened to Steve.” He glanced at the former Captain. A man he’d once held so high on a pedestal. “I guess it’s true what they say — don’t meet your heroes.” He stared at Steve.

STEVE ROGERS: The muscle in steve’s jaw jumped as his teeth ground together, it wasn’t really the insult that irritated him as much as the arrogance. He had a hard time listening to men boast about things they had no idea about. “You think being a hero is a crowd at your feet and that’s your problem.” Steve said. “That’s why you were never a good Cap.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: Moving on her own, Riri had found her suit disguised as a suit of armor. The nanotech had felt cold as it responded to her wristlet and covered her skin. The light of her repulsor lit up the darkened museum until it found Sam, who was staring at an oversized painting of a falling star with Kate. “That it?” She asked, hand canon already firing up.

JOHN WALKER: Okay, that stung. The heat that burned through his cheeks then was a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “Oh, screw you—.” John replied and he flung his shield at him, using the seconds that it took Steve to deflect it to propel himself across the fifteen feet of space between them. A deafening clang rang out as they slammed into one another, vibranium meeting metal. Despite matching strength, the shock reverberated through John ten fold, practically chattering his teeth. He groaned, pushing against Rogers as he pushed back—then Steve kicked his right ankle out from under him and drove John backwards. It was a series of fists and blows between the two of them, and where Walker had youth, Rogers had experience.

KATE BISHOP: “Are you going to shoot an Infinity Stone??” Kate looked to Sam in surprised confirmation.

SAM WILSON: “It’s only a part of one.” Sam tossed out as if it made it any better.

RIRI WILLIAMS: “It’s a little more exact than that.” Riri grit her teeth. Her repulsor had a precision setting and it carefully carved out a section of the painting and vault. The lock required a code, but she let N.A.T.A.L.I.E. interface with it for a second before it clicked open. As her suit created a nano chamber, Riri carefully scooped the Stone in and secured it. “Feels kind of dumb to drag it to Zemo, so I’m going to the hospital.” Without waiting for confirmation, Riri flew out.

SAM WILSON: Finding his wings and a shield ( one that wasn’t his ), Sam nodded at Bishop. “We need to get to the Town Hall. Steve’ll follow.”

STEVE: Maybe a little part of him had wanted to hit him the first time he saw him on that TV, adorning a shield that wasn’t given to him in a uniform that no real place in this world anymore. Walker was arguably an equal match in terms of strength—he’d been trained just as well as any other soldier, but he was sloppy. He let his anger get the better of him rather than channeling it like fuel. It left him open and Steve took every shot he gave — a jab to the liver here, a blow to his kidney there. Without that healing factor, he’d be pissing blood for weeks and by the look on his face, he was starting to realize the rapid succession of Steve’s hits were a little more than it could keep up with. Steve had lived in this form for a long time—he’d spent himself to the point of total exhaustion more than he could count. he knew what it took to reach that breaking point.

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS: The museum slowly emptied. Rogers finished beating the living hell out of Walker and left him to be picked up by some S.H.I.E.L.D. guards. The inmates were buzzing that Bullseye was down and Taskmaster had abandoned post. When the former Captain America vacated the premise, Elektra danced over Walker to peer into the Vault. Empty. Good. She had liberated her sai’s from a display already, but the assassin still did a check of the museum before she exited to escape Pleasant Hill.

[glassbangtan]

Jungkook is Typing... {Jungkook x Reader}

Words: 21.1k

Summary: You and Jungkook met online when you were only fourteen years old. Neither of you thought meeting up would be a possibility, until you’re hired as Big Hit’s new editor. 

Genre: mild smut, angst, fluff. 

Warning: sexual scenes (but nothing graphic)

Notes: masterlist 

---

You and Jungkook met online.

   This is where most people roll their eyes, close the book and move on. It's this little pinprick of information that makes people turn a blind eye and assume the absolute worst.

   In truth, you never really blamed them for this mindset.

   You were only fourteen when you started getting into online gaming, and it wasn't like it was some massive deal at the time. Everyone was doing it; World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons, Minecraft Online were all common topics of conversation amongst your year ten class, with people sharing server pins and usernames in a similar way to how they used to share sweets when the teacher wasn't looking. It was no surprise to you – or anyone else – when you asked your parents for a computer for Christmas, and quickly got hooked on the game Prisons of Terror.

    It was all you ever talked about, because – in truth – it was all you ever did. You got home from school, threw your bag on the floor and darted to your room. Some days, you didn't even bother saying hello to your mother in fear of someone logging onto the online server before you and getting all the weaponry you'd stashed away in an unlocked chest. You simply could not let that happen. Over one hundred and twenty five hours of hard work were not going to waste just so you could make idle chat with the woman who lived downstairs.

     Your parents never questioned it – as stated, this wasn't some new phenomenon, and you didn't have a problem. You were quite capable of logging out of the game when the server was quiet, and you only spoke about it when someone else was willing to engage in conversation. Other than that, most people saw you as a fairly capable, intelligent fourteen year old – normal.

     But this little passing fling with Prisons of Terror grew when GoldenJeon entered the server for the very first time. You remembered the date, remembered flicking your eyes up from your homework with the game still running in the background – hardly anyone was playing, so you'd decided to at least be a little bit productive as you waited for some of your other friends to come online. Never before had you seen GoldenJeon written across the bottom of the screen.

    You narrowed your eyes, leaned forward and quickly typed into the chat: Who are you?

    He didn't reply. You left it at that. He was probably just there to try it out, too nervous to speak to anyone until he found his footing in the game and was finally able to open up a little bit more.

  A few days later, he appeared again.

  You were quicker with your curiosity this time, barely letting his name disappear from the chat before you were repeating your previous question.

    GoldenJeon is typing...

   But then he stopped, and there was no response given.

  Maybe it was this constant game of back and forth that piqued your interest, that had you pondering over the person behind the strange username. His characters skin consisted of the gear of prisoners, which has always been a strange thing to pick when playing this game. Most people are drawn to the powerful looking players, the guards, the people with swords and crossbows slung across their backs – your own was a person in a guards uniform, your weapon consisting of two circular blades strapped to your shoulders.

  Your curiosity heightened to levels you could no longer control, and you opened up a new, private chat with GoldenJeon and started texting.

  Innocent questions at first; asking him who he was, how long he'd been playing the game, who the hell gave him the password for the server you were so familiar with at this point.

  And he texted back.

  He gave you answers, the conversation flowing so much easier than you'd ever expected it to. His silence in the beginning had unsettled you to the point where you'd ridiculously convinced yourself he didn't like you – even before he'd spoken to you. He was ignoring everything you said, so what else were you supposed to believe?

  But the two of you texted like best friends outside of the ring of the game you'd grown so addicted to. He sent emojis, and after a few months of constant back and forth, he started sending you little pictures of his dog and the doodles he did during class, and you granted him the same thing. You were never much of an artist, but you put a lot of effort into the drawings you sent him, and also put a lot of effort into making them look effortless, just like he did.

    GoldenJeon: got bored in class again. Teacher nearly caught me this time. {ATTACHED IMAGE}

   He was talented. There was no denying that. Even at fourteen, there wasn't a sense of jealousy that came with this acknowledgement, but a simple sense of pride. You often tilted the phone to your friend, Yul, and let him see the fresh, simplistic art work GoldenJeon had sent you that day, and Yul would hum and compliment him, and you'd sit there smugly as if to say yep, he's my friend.

   After a few weeks, GoldenJeon became somebody else. He became Jeon Jungkook, a student in Busan – miles away from where you lived, but close enough to startle you. Both of you lived in Korea – that had to count for something.

     The start of it all was a bumpy road, but looking down at your phone now, you can't help but grin at the realisation that it really was all worth it. Though you and Jungkook are yet to meet in person, not a day has gone by in the past four years where he hasn't sent you some bizarre song, or some scribbled doodle on the back of his notebook. Not a day has gone by where he hasn't sent you a good morning text and asked you how you are, what you've eaten, what your plans are for the day.

     He's your best friend, but telling people that earns you a few confused glances, so you tend to refrain as far from that conversation as humanly possible.

    Jungkook: I'm bored. Please cheer me up before I walk out and fail this entire class.

   Y/N: tough day?

   Jungkook: The worst day. I forgot we had a test.

  Y/N: what a Jungkook thing to do.

    Jungkook: Fuck off and cheer me up. I'm keeping you around for one thing and one thing only.

   Y/N: to cheer you up?

   Jungkook: Exactly.

   Challenge accepted. Standing in line at Starbucks, you shamelessly lift your phone high above your head and take a selfie, sticking your tongue out and throwing up the peace sign for added effect. You hit 'send' to Jungkook and stuff your phone back in your pocket, turning round to retrieve your coffee and head back to work.

    Jungkook goes to a weekend performance club in Seoul. This much you know, as you get updates from him on the daily about how his classes are going and how life is now that he's basically an independent man who can do whatever the hell he wants; as well as being a student, he's also a trainee.

    He told you about his dreams of becoming an idol on multiple occasions, but you'd heard it all before. Growing up, every single person in your class wanted to be an idol at some point; rising stars like Big Bang and EXO inspired the youth to strive to become as rich and famous as possible – but it always died away, and that's what you thought was going to happen with Jungkook.

    You really should have known better.

  He was only fifteen when he texted you saying he'd passed his audition. Confused, you'd asked him what he meant, only for him to send you a picture – “photo credit to my mum!” - of him standing in front of a sign with the words Big Hit plastered across it. You leaped out of your chair, squealing with happiness, immediately pressing 'CALL' to continue your freak out with him on the line; he'd started crying, you'd started crying, and that phone call will forever go down as the one that cost you the most money as it lasted for over four hours.

    He was still working hard. You got the updates. You comforted him when it all got too much. You helped each other out.

    Your phone chimes, signalling Jungkook's response.

   Jungkook: Okay good. I think I can push through now. Wish me luck. Love you loads and all that.

  You grin.

   Y/N: love you too. Don't kill anyone. Xx

   The conversation disappears and you are finally able to sink yourself back into reality – work.

   Whilst Jungkook is a thriving trainee, you're an intern at a publishing house. Whilst Jungkook spends his days singing and dancing, you spend your days going through unedited manuscripts and marking them up with red pen.

     Your boss, Mr Grey, is standing by your desk when you walk in, which is already the first bad sign of the morning. His arms are folded, his grey (yes, grey) moustache freshly waxed. You swallow back a laugh, giving him your best grin as you walk past him to your desk, pretending that his presence in your office is a normal, everyday occurrence.

   You already know you're in Big Trouble. Mr Grey never steps foot outside of his office unless someone is in Big Trouble.  

  “Are you sure you need that caffeine this morning?” is the first thing he asks, as it usually is. Mr Grey is on a health kick. Even though you know it's temporary and he's been through this with you a million different times before, he will still chastise you for any and all unhealthy lifestyle choices you make in his presence whilst he is trying to slim down.

  You take a small sip of your hot beverage, clap your lips together and say, “Definitely.” You set your folder down on your desk before turning to him fully. “How may I help you this morning, sir?”

   “I need to speak with you about an important matter,” he replies. You pause, waiting for him to elaborate, but his eyes have suddenly turned shifty and there is not a single hint in his posture to reveal whatever riddle he has just spoken.

  You look around cautiously, half expecting Soobin from the next office to jump out and spray you with Silly String, or perhaps throw a can of paint in your face. You honestly wouldn't put it past Mr Grey to want to poison you somehow.

  When nothing seems out of place, you turn back to your boss and say, “Okay. Do you want to sit down?” You gesture towards the seat he is stiffly standing behind, and he nods before slowly lowering himself onto the worn out cushion. You follow his lead, shuffling a few papers around because that's often all you need to do to look busy around here. You then intertwine your fingers over a thick folder and glance at him, waiting for him to usher the conversation along.

  He inhales and rubs a single finger along one of his bushy grey eyebrows. “There has been an opportunity given to me recently that I unfortunately cannot take for myself, so I've come here to ask if you would like to take the chance in my place.”

   He says it just like that. The previous silence, the drawn out dramatics just look stupid now, and you can't help but stare at him blankly as the words settle in. You haven't been there for very long, and you're still barely full-time. You're still considered an intern by most people, and still have a lot to learn – so why is he offering you something like this when there's hundreds of other worthy colleagues who would know what to do with this opportunity so much better than you?

  “Right,” you say slowly. “I'm gonna need a few more details, I think.”

  “It requires travel.”

  “I don't really think I can aff-”

  “All expenses will be paid by the agency. They'll organise a flat and transport when it's needed. They've been very generous with this offer, which is why I think it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

   Your heart is thumping. This is real. This is serious.

  “What is this offer?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but failing miserably.

  “A well-known company is writing up a catalogue for future employees and they want an editor flown out to make corrections on hand if they need it.”

  You blink. “That's . . . Unheard of. Why don't they just send the manuscript out?”

  “Because that takes too long, and they don't have that amount of time,” Mr Grey explains. “Plus, they're already in partnership with another editing agency, but this agency doesn't have enough staff free at the moment to take on the job. That's why they came to me.”

  “So you'll be shipping me off to another editing agency? I'll become part of another team?” You raise your brows, slowly lean back in your chair. “You could have just sacked me, Mr Grey. It would have done the same thing.”

  Mr Grey rolls his eyes – he never has any time for comments like these. It's part of the reason you find it so difficult to find even ground with him. “You'll be coming back eventually. This is just a temporary job, a favour for a friend.”

  You sigh. “This is a lot to take in, sir.”

  “I understand,” he replies, before he starts standing up. “I'll give you time to think about it, and when you-”

   You launch yourself over the desk, grabbing his wrist and dragging him back into his seat before he can get much further. “Jesus, Mr Grey, slow down. I never said I wouldn't take the bloody offer.” You grab a pen from the Worlds Worst Drinker mug on the corner of your desk. “What do I sign and when do I leave?”

  ---

  The train station is bustling with people, but you had been expecting nothing different when you were told you'd be shipped off to Seoul.

  Seoul, South Korea. A place you'd once only dreamed about stepping foot in. As you'd grown older, the idea of visiting the capital became more and more intimidating, and you've since grown quite fond of your tiny little area. You'd heard the stories, seen the pictures of the crowded streets and the smoke that always fills the air, but hearing about these details and being amongst them are two very, very different experiences.

  You step off the train at long last, shoulder immediately shoved by a passer-by who is too busy looking down at his phone to notice you standing right in front of him. You frown, quickly pull your timetable out of your pocket and look down – you're meant to be meeting your colleague. According to the timetable, this mystery person was meant to pick you up in their car and drive you straight to the building you'd be working at – which, at this moment in time, you have not yet heard the name of.

  You look around for any sign of somebody professional looking – sadly, that seems to be the majority of Seoul. You're surprised to see that half of the people bustling around look like they're on their way to work, wearing nice suits or long coats that hide whatever professional gear they're wearing underneath.

  “Y/N L/N?”

  Your eyes shoot up, heartbeat thumping because you know, just from the sound of the unfamiliar voice, that things are finally starting. There is no backing out of this. You can't just turn around and get back on the train – you've taken the offer, and you're stuck.

  You turn on your heel, placing your professional grin on your face. Standing behind you is a fairly small man with a tiny black moustache, wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a beanie. Little black hairs trickle from the edge of his hat and poke him in the eyes, but he does nothing to shift them out the way.

  He certainly wasn't what you had been expecting. He's shorter than you by a few inches. He's wearing casual clothes, even on a Wednesday afternoon. He looks like any normal human being, even a little laid back.

  “Mr Son!” you exclaim. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Sungdeuk,” he says. “I hope the train ride wasn't too bad? I know they can get a little crowded and uncomfortable.”

  As he speaks, he grabs for your suitcase and starts down the platform. You blink, ponder over whether or not to follow him before you're nearly tripping over your own feet trying to catch up.

  “Uh, yeah. It was a – uh – experience,” you reply. “I'm just glad I got here on time.”

  “I assume you know all about the kind of work you'll be doing?”

  “Mhm!”

  You cringe even as the noise leaves your lips, because in truth, you have absolutely no idea what it is you'll be doing. What little you've been told barely seems to cover the surface, and you're still carrying around many questions in which you know will need answered eventually – when you get to that point, you'll make sure to ask, but for now, it's safer to just pretend you're prepared.

   You and Sungdeuk make your way into a large Range Rover that is parked outside the station. Sungdeuk gets in the front seat whilst you clamber into the back, and immediately a cold bottle of water is passed to you over the back of Sungdeuk's seat.

  “Kept chilled, just for you,” he says, winking in the rear view mirror.

  You smile and grab for the drink, but your stomach is reeling with nerves and you know for a fact you won't be able to keep anything down, liquid or not. And so, you mess with the lid, curling your fingers around it until the clasp bites into your palm, until the condensation is sinking into your jeans and making the leather seats damp.

  Neither of you speak for the majority of the drive, and Sungdeuk seems perfectly fine with that. He barely even glances at you, too busy leaning his head against the headrest with his eyes closed, like he's living in his own fantasy world. Even the driver is perfectly content with the silence, but it itches at your skin. You should be talking. You want your first impression to be chipper, friendly, curious. You want your new boss to think you're actually interested in whatever it is you've been signed up for.

  Cautiously, you lean forward and poke your head between the passenger and driver seat. “Uh, hi.”

  Sungdeuk creaks open one eye. “You alright?”

  “I was just – uh – I have a question.” You may as well slip a question in now.

  Sungdeuk turns to look at you. “Go ahead. I thought you were told everything.”

  “I was told most things,” you lie. “Except for – you know – who I'll actually be working for.”

  Sungdeuk stares at you, waiting for the non-existent punch line. You suddenly want to curl up in a ball, perhaps throw yourself out the window.

  He purses his lips when you stay silent, features completely straight. “You don't know who you're working for?”

  “I'm sure it was in the contract,” you hasten to say. “I might have just missed it. You know what, sorry for bothering you.” You wave a dismissive hand, already leaning back in your seat and pretending you didn't even speak up in the first place. “You carry on doing what you're doing, and I'll just sit back here and-”

   “We're here anyway,” he says, grinning at your sudden flustered state. You don't even have a chance to be embarrassed, as you lurch forward and look out the window, just as the massive gates open into the car park behind a large grey building. Lights are on in almost every single room, and there's a sign on the door that reads, in big, bold letters:

  BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT.

  And you want to scream.

  There's no way. There's absolutely no way this is real life. You've decided. You've come to the conclusion that maybe you hit your head on the train and now you're actually dreaming this entire thing. You're in a coma somewhere. A doctor is poking at you this very minute, but you won't wake up because-

  “Y/N?”

  Your eyes snap up. “Hm?”

  “We going in?”

  You swallow thickly and gather your wits, trying to calm the race of your heartbeat. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket – you want to text Jungkook so bad, because you can already guess his reaction. He's going to be mortified. The safe little friendship the two of you have is going to be destroyed as soon as he sees you walk in them doors, because he can no longer hide behind the distance that was always such a comfort blanket between the two of you. Sure, it was a pain in the ass sometimes. Sometimes Jungkook would just go on huge rants about wanting to cuddle you because he couldn't sleep, and its them moments where the distance can honestly just fuck off – but at the same time, you have a pimple growing on your forehead that Jungkook would never be able to see.

  Not until now.

  Nonetheless, you know you can't just set up camp in the back of the Range Rover, so you gather your bags and follow Sungdeuk into the lobby of the building. He's chatting away, giving you a brief tour of the area you can see, but you're not even paying attention.

  On the wall, the posters glare at you.

  “Who is Bangtan Sonyeondan?” you ask, not even realising you're cutting the man off.

  He lowers his hand and follows your gaze to the poster you're currently inspecting; it consists of seven men, all of whom you recognise because Jungkook idolises each and every one. He texts you about their daily runnings almost every single day, and you find it kind of strange that you know Namjoon's favourite cereal to have in the morning, as well as the fact that Seokjin shrunk his favourite pink socks the other day.

  But it's Jungkook who your focus is trained upon, because you recognise him immediately. The brown hair, the dumpling cheeks and the baggy clothes. He's staring into the camera with such a serious look on his face, and half of you wants to burst into a fit of giggles whilst the other half of you wants to burst into flames.

  “They're the group,” Sungdeuk says.

  You raise a brow. “The group?”

  “The only group Big Hit is representing at the minute,” he confirms. “They've been together for a few years now. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them.”

   You swallow. You have heard of them – probably on a much deeper level than Sungdeuk can even begin to comprehend.

  He moves on with the tour, leading you through winding hallways, explaining each and every detail as he does so. You meet a few people on the way past; a few producers, a few choreographers, a few people who are messing with broken cameras and lights. The building just seems to get more and more complex the longer you walk, and it isn't long until Sungdeuk is leading you directly to the training room.

  Thankfully, it's empty for now.

  “And this is my place,” he says, stretching his arms out. The room is only small, but it's brightly lit and there's a glowing neon sign in the corner that reads BTS. Beneath it are a pair of shoes that look as if they had been discarded not long ago; with your limited knowledge of fashion, you're able to identify them as Balenciagas.

  “This is where the boys come to learn their choreographies and practice some of their old stuff,” Sungdeuk continues to explain. “I sent them on their break so I could come and get you.”

   You smile warily. “So what is it you actually do around here?”

  “I'm the production manager,” he replies. “But I'm also the lead choreographer. I come up with the dances, teach them to the boys and send them on their way. They're quite independent that way – they don't need me holding their hand through everything.”

  You chuckle. “I heard Hoseok does a lot of the training. He tends to just take over.”

  Sungdeuk laughs. “Yeah, he's a really good-” He freezes. You glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait. How do you know about Hoseok?”

   Aaaaaand, you've already fucked up.

  Your brain runs at a million miles per hour, because there's a legible answer there somewhere. You can lie. You can come up with something – anything -  but god, your hands are now sweaty and he's staring at you with his head tilted and he probably thinks you're such a crazed stalker.

  You open your mouth to reply, to say anything, but the words are cut off by the sound of booming laughter and the door opening. It squeaks, and you make a mental note to bring some WD40 with you next time you're here.

  But until then, you have to calm down, because Jungkook is there and he's taller than you imagined, and he's captured your eye already meaning there's absolutely no getting out of this mess.

  Sungdeuk greets the other boys – all six of them, fuck sake – but Jungkook stays rooted to the floor. In his hand is a coffee. In his other hand is a water. He's wearing a bandanna and an oversized hoodie, and it takes everything in you not to melt into the floorboards right here and now.

  “Everyone, meet Y/N L/N,” Sungdeuk announces, one arm wrapped around Namjoon's waist, the other pushed towards you. “They're the new editor for the Big Hit catalogue.”

  “Ay, you found someone!” Taehyung exclaims, walking towards you with those long, intimidating legs that are neatly covered by a pair of striped trousers. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you tight against him. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I'm Taehyung.”

  “Nice to meet you,” you mumble.

  “Awk look; they're already nervous,” Seokjin teases, peeling his jacket off his very, very broad shoulders.

  “Don't worry. We don't mind a few typos,” Yoongi chimes in.

  You try to laugh, but it sounds forced and honestly not worth the effort. Even the boys seem to notice the dry, false side to the giggle as they all turn to look at you, a crowd of raised eyebrows turning to look at you all at once – but again, you can't take your eyes off of Jungkook for even a second.

  This is the person you've been talking to since you were fourteen. This is the person who calls you in the middle of the night because he doesn't know what to get from the fridge. This is the person who sends you countless videos on Snapchat of him trying to figure out how to fit the sheet back on his bed in the morning, most of which end with him saying, “Seokjin will do it.”

  He's standing in front of you, and he's real, and you're still not entirely convinced you're not dreaming.

  Until he speaks.

  “D-don't be nervous,” he says. “You'll do a great job. I know you will.”

  Oh yeah. You're definitely going to melt into the floorboards at any given moment.

  ---

  “I can't believe this-”

  “I swear to god I didn't know it was Big Hit I was gonna be working for.”

   “You're here. How are you here?”

  “I took a train, Jungkook. A train! Do you know how terrified I am of fast moving vehicles?”

  Jungkook closes his eyes, tilts his head back against the wall you've accidentally pushed him against in your panic. You aren't even sure how you've done it, but in your hectic panic, you've ended up basically shoving him against the wall as soon as the two of you are away from the large group of excited, older men.

  You take a step back and awkwardly rub the back of your neck. “Look, I'm being serious. I didn't even know what company had hired me until Sungdeuk pulled up outside the Big Hit building. I wasn't searching for you or anything.”

  Jungkook cracks an eye open. “You know I'm not even meant to be in contact with you.”

  This draws you up short. “What?”

  “After I joined Big Hit to be a trainee, they made me sign this massive contract thing. It said I had to cut all ties with certain people, and I signed it and said I would.” He bites his lip and looks away, as if confessing to his crimes makes him somehow not worthy to look into your eyes. “And then I texted you the same day about going online for a few hours.”

  Your chest hurts. Physically aches. “You were meant to cut ties with me?”

  “I didn't take it seriously!” he hisses, tugging at his hair. “I was fifteen, for gods sake. It wasn't until Hoseok started telling me all the things he had to do to make up his contract that I started realising I should probably be – you know – paying attention, too, but I liked texting you. It became kind of routine, so I never stopped.”

   You hollow out your cheeks. Not even a full day into business and already Jeon Jungkook is overwhelming you; you're not even surprised.

  “Okay, so we just don't tell anyone that we know each other,” you say, as if the two of you haven't already put suspicion in people's heads by basically handling each other with bubble wrap the entire afternoon.

  “But I was gonna – I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get dinner tonight,” he says. You raise a brow. He rolls his eyes, shakes his head. “As friends, you sleez.”

  “Okay, okay, I was kidding,” you chuckle. “We can still go to dinner, Jungkook. You can just tell the guys you're going somewhere else, and then we'll meet up. Although, I don't really know my way around Seoul just yet so...”

  “Do you know where you're staying?” he asks.

  You pull a piece of paper from your back pocket and shove it in his hands; written in almost unintelligible handwriting is your new, temporary address. Jungkook's eyes light up when he reads it.

  “Hey, that's not far from the dorms!” he says. “I can come and pick you up if that makes it easier. Then we can finally . . . you know . . . discuss what's going on here.”

  The way he says it makes your spine tingle, like being friends is some kind of scandal. Apparently it kind of is, considering Jungkook was meant to cut all ties with you over three years ago and just casually decided not to, as if it was no big deal. Part of you wants to be flattered by it. The other part of you wants to slap him up side the head for thinking his friendship with you was more important than living his dreams.

  “How long are you staying?” he asks, voice suddenly quiet.

  “However long it takes for the catalogue to be made,” you reply, before awkwardly stepping forward. “Jungkook, I just want you to know that I'm not here for a holiday. I have work to do.”

  Jungkook's head snaps up, eyes alert. “What? Of course. I know that. I was just – I mean, we've been friends for a long time, Y/N. I think it's about time I take you for dinner.” He raises a brow. “Unless you think this is weird. 'Cause we can always just go back to texting and sending each other stupid videos.”

  You chuckle, glancing down at the floor where your toes are very nearly hitting against his. You don't step back, simply kick a rock up onto his shoe which he kicks back onto yours almost immediately. “No. I think this is good. It's like fate, isn't it? Even the universe can't keep us apart kind of thing.”

  Jungkook scoffs. “Is this another one of them astrology things you always send to me?”

  You roll your eyes, nudging Jungkook with your elbow. “I was trying to be sweet, you idiot.”

  “You don't need to be sweet. I've seen you make a fake Instagram account to get a look at your ex-boyfriend's new page.”

  “I was fifteen-”

  He starts walking back towards the building. “I've seen it.”

  “Jungkook, I swear to-”

  “I've seen it, Y/N!”

  ---

  You shouldn't feel nervous, but you do.

  As you look at yourself in the mirror and try desperately to fix your travel-hair, you remind yourself that this is Jungkook. GoldenJeon. The boy you've known for years, the boy who knows you better than any of your real life friends do. There will be no awkward silences, because there is so much to talk about. There will be no flustered glances, because there is no reason to be flustered. There will be absolutely no tension during this dinner, because you and Jungkook have been friends for years. Just because he is now a physical form changes nothing.

  These are the rules you set out for yourself as you slip on your shoes and head for the door of your new apartment. It's small, one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a sofa. There's a generously sized television hung up on the far wall, and a picture of a house plant hung beside it; you're half tempted to take it down and replace it with a family picture, but something about that makes this place seem a little too permanent. You don't want to be getting attached when you know full well you'll be heading home in a matter of months.

  Jungkook texts you to tell you he's outside at exactly seven pm. He's on time, something you weren't expecting considering he has a habit of being late to almost every single meeting he's invited to – he tells you these things on a daily basis, claiming he slept in or he forgot, or he got too caught up in his games.

  But he's not lying. You step outside into the chilly night air of Seoul and are greeted by the sight of his warm smile and fluffy brown hair. He's wearing an oversized coat, his hands tucked into the pockets, his shoulders bunched around his ears. When he sees you exit through the front door, he picks up his pace to a penguin-like jog before jumping in front of you and bundling you into a hug you most definitely were not expecting.

  “Do you see how early I am?” he asks. You can feel his lips moving against the crown of your head, and your face heats up.

  “You're on time,” you correct. “And apparently in a very good mood.”

 He pulls away, holds you at arms length. His brown eyes look so light beneath the yellow glow of the street lamps. It's a doe-like look, and it makes your spine tingle when it's trained on you.

  “Of course I'm in a good mood,” he says. “I've already picked out the restaurant we're going to. It's called Frapuls.”

  You raise a brow, letting Jungkook slip his hand into your own as he starts to lead you down the pavement. “Frapuls? I don't think I've ever heard of that before.”

  “It's good. All sorts of food – burgers, kimchi, stir-fry – anything you want, they have it.” He looks over his shoulder. “I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked, so I just picked the one that had the most options.”

   You smile. “Frapuls sounds perfect.”

  The restaurant itself is small, sparcely populated. Part of you thinks Jungkook's decision to eat here had more to do with the fact that it isn't busy than because he was unsure of your food preferences – nonetheless, you're not complaining. Jungkook leads you into the tiny restaurant, mutters something to the man at the front desk before the two of you are led towards a table on the far side of the restaurant.

  It's dimly lit, tiny little lanterns placed all around the room being the only source of light. It makes Jungkook's eyes a little darker, making you want to rip his bucket hat off his head just so you can be given better access to the doe-like brown eyes you had seen earlier on. However, when Jungkook looks at you from across the table, there is no more wondering; you can see his eyes perfectly fine, bright and round and questioning. He looks so curious, tracing your features, trying to figure you out – you can see it in his expression. He has questions, so many questions, but he says none of them until you cough and meet his gaze.

  “You can ask me anything you want.” It's a bold statement, but you mean it.

  Jungkook pulls back, spreading his fingers across his untouched menu. He licks his bottom lip and sighs. “There's just so many things that don't make sense.”

  “Like?”

  “Like how you're here. How I didn't know you were going to be here. How we managed to meet up after years of just texting online, and it wasn't even planned.” He shakes his head. “People in our situation literally go through hell to see each other, and it just fell into our laps.”

  You bite your lip. “Would you say it's luck?”

  “I don't really believe in luck.” Jungkook leans forward, folding his arms in front of him. “But I can't really put my finger on what else it could be.”

  “A coincidence,” you suggest. “I mean, it's insane that the people from Big Hit decided to choose the publishing agency I work for to edit their catalogue. It's insane that my boss decided I'd be a good replacement for him.”

  Jungkook raises a brow. “It's not insane. You're brilliant at what you do. I've been subject to plenty of late night distressed phone calls to be able to vouch for that.”

   You scoff. “You of all people are not allowed to talk about late night distressed phone calls. I think I received at least one a week from you – I marked them on my calender.”

   “I'm not that bad!”

  “You definitely are. I have the receipts-”

  Jungkook's hand snaps out and curls around your wrist before you can grab your phone.

  “Alright, I believe you,” he says. “But that's not the point.”

  You grin, twisting your hand out of his grip. “Look, maybe it's better if we don't question why we were lucky enough for this to happen. Neither of us know how long we've got together, so we might as well focus our attention on other things.”

   Jungkook nods, looking down at his menu. “I agree. For example, you never told me how short you are.”

  You very nearly choke on the air you're breathing.

  Your eyes snap open, darting across the table to where Jungkook is now grinning down at his menu, pretending like this conversation starter is oh-so-normal, and not at all totally ludicrous.

  “I'm average!” you argue. “It's not my fault you're a complete skyscraper of a human being.”

  Jungkook raises a brow, still yet to look up from his menu. “I'm not even that tall. You're just taking the piss.”

  “Is this your way of charming me?”

  “I didn't know you wanted me to charm you in the first place.”

  You grit your teeth, shifting your eyes back to your menu.

  Jungkook, however, is on a roll. “Did you notice that I could put my chin on your head when I hugged you earlier? Is that not adorable?”

  “I'm average,” you repeat.

  “You're small. The sooner you realise it, the better. Then I can give you more chin-to-head hugs.”

  It sounds promising. That single hug outside your apartment had been enough to fill you with so many butterflies that you were convinced you would float off like a balloon pumped with helium. His arms had been warm. You had convinced yourself that he'd hidden hot packs in the front of his coat, because nobody's chest could be that warm and welcoming in two degree weather. He'd even gone as far as to press his lips into the crown of your head, and you remember that vividly, because it was that very movement that-

  “Can I take your order?”

  You look up, cheeks heating up with the realisation that you had just completely zoned out, remembering Jungkook hugging you. Looking over, you can see Jungkook staring at you, his cheeks a vivid red colour and his eyebrows furrowed. You bite your lip, looking back up at the smiling waitress who is waiting patiently at your table with a notebook in her hands.

  You order the pasta carbonara and a water, whilst Jungkook orders the steak and rice with an iced Coke to go along with it. The two of you don't mention the lack of alcohol – you don't trust yourself to get drunk in front of him yet, and if your thoughts are anything to go by, you need to keep your brain in check tonight.

   Jungkook's look of confusion does not leave his face throughout the meal, even as the conversation develops a life of its own. The two of you bicker like an old married couple, Jungkook complaining about the amount of times he has to revive your character in Overwatch and you complaining that you always have to give him extra supplies in Minecraft, even though you've totally, one hundred percent outgrown Minecraft and only play it because Jungkook still likes it, and his character would definitely die if you were not there to make sure he keeps his inventory full.

  You're not even surprised with how easy the conversation flows; it's like your texting, but with your mouths. The banter, the teasing, the sly jabs that are always so present in your text conversations do not take the back seat even when you are in front of each other – the only difference now is that you can see his expressions, can hear his laughter, can hear his scoffs of disbelief, and it makes your insides melt with each and every thing he says.

  It's so much better than texting. It's so much better than patchy Skype calls. It's so much better than you could have ever imagined.

  You speak for hours even after your meal has finished. You place your napkin over your empty meal, place your bag in your lap but neither of you move from the table; you just keep talking, shifting into a debate on whether Billie Eilish or Justin Bieber have the best new song out – Jungkook admits that he's taken a liking to Billie Eilish, but hastens to insist that Justin Bieber is, and forever will be, his ride-or-die.

  You only leave the restaurant when the shy waitress glides over to you and tells you that the table you've been over-occupying for hours is needed. Jungkook has paid for the entire meal (plus a tip) before you even have a chance to find your purse.

  You shoot him a glare once the two of you are finally outside again, subject to the cold winter air and the surprisingly busy streets of Seoul – back in your home town, the streets were basically empty at this time, but Seoul is different. Seoul is always alive, always bustling with people and chatter and entertainment. Even at this time of night, there are buskers seated on the pavement and dancers twirling through the streets, lights on in every household. It vibrates with an energy you've never known before, and it sends a ripple of excitement coursing through you.

  Jungkook ignores your glare and continues walking, a dull smile playing on his features that you find difficult to miss.

  “I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet,” he says without turning to look at you. You are forced to pick up your pace just to catch up with him, and when you do, you latch onto his arm so you don't lose him amongst the ever-thickening crowd. If it bothers him, he says nothing.

  “What else can we do?” you ask. “It's getting late.”

  “So?”

  “So all the shops are closed.”

  Jungkook raises a brow, glancing down at you as if your logic is extremely flawed. “Again, so?”

  “Jungkook, we can't just-”

  “Watch this.” He shrugs out of your grip and marches towards a nearby busker before you have a chance to even register what he is doing. You pause in the middle of the street, pulling your coat tighter to your body and watching as Jungkook and the young man with the guitar talk in hushed tones. The busker's eyes eventually light up and he shakes Jungkook's hand before the song he was previously playing is forgotten and replaced by a soft, melodic tone that you've never heard before.

  When Jungkook turns back around to face the crowd, he looks nervous. You immediately know what he's going to do, and your heart races at the idea of it; you've heard him sing before. Some mornings he'll call you just so you can keep him company as he goes through his daily routine, and you sit back and listen to him hum as he brushes his teeth, belts out solos as he picks out his outfit for the day. You've heard him sing, but never like this, and you aren't sure why the idea of it excites you so much.

  He doesn't bother with an introduction to the song. He just looks at you once, closes his eyes and starts singing, and suddenly the rest of the crowd no longer exists.

  The little girl crying over her fallen ice cream no longer exists. The bickering couple beside you no longer exists. The dog barking in impatience no longer exists, and the only sound you can hear is Jungkook's soft voice flittering through the busy crowd, meeting your ears as if he's singing for you and only you.

  The lights bring it all together. They shine behind him, illuminating the gold streaks in his hair, the outline of his jaw that has absolutely no right to be as sharp as it is. His body sways back and forth, and even though he's wearing the worlds biggest coat, zipped right up to his chin, you can still imagine his Adams apple bobbing every time he stops for a breath.

  This is Jungkook in his natural element. This is where he's meant to be, where he worked so hard to be. For years, the both of you had always joked that he was a video game obsessive, that he was most comfortable in front of the computer, or PlayStation, or xBox just losing himself in a world that wasn't this one – but now you feel ridiculous even pondering over such a crazy idea. This is where he belongs.

  Your throat closes over as the song does. Jungkook's voice fades away, and the eruption of cheers brings you back down to Earth. Everyone fizzles back into place, and you're suddenly overwhelmed with the unexplainable urge to break down into tears.

  Jungkook's eyes meet your own almost as soon as he opens them. You grin brightly, clapping along with the crowd and he blushes before he turns, thanks the busker and makes his way over to you. Almost as soon as he is in front of you, he takes your hands in his and pulls you close.

  “You look freezing. I should have kept us moving.”

  “What song was that?” you ask, pulling away to look up at him.

  He frowns. “You liked it?”

  “I loved it,” you reply. “What song was it?”

  “It's called Promise. My friend Jimin wrote it.”

  “It was beautiful,” you say before you can stop yourself. Jungkook's blush grows more prominent, looking down to the floor in his attempts to hide it, but you can see right through it. You grin, place a hand on his neck and say, “I'd like to hear you sing some more.”

   His eyes meet your own. For a moment, you think you've gone too far. His brows are furrowed, and he's silent for a moment longer than you're comfortable with, but he eventually grins and nods. “Of course.”

  ---

  The first day of work is a hectic one.

  The first few pages of the catalogue arrive on your doorstep at seven am sharp, followed shortly by a frantic phone call from Mr Bang Shi Hyuk, who you met a week ago and have still yet to hear talk in a normal tone. He's always busy, always bustling round his office, and you're certain you've never gotten through a phone call  without him having to put you on hold to scold someone. This morning, his frantic call has an undertone of desperation to it as he asks you to get the freshly edited pages back to him by five pm – definitely not an impossible goal, but you know you won't be taking any breaks today.

  And so, you set up camp at your kitchen table and get to work as soon as the coffee kicks in. Bundled in your fluffy dressing gown and a pair of slippers, you sip idly on different beverages, red pen in hand, glasses perched on the end of your nose. You order some food from a nearby delivery place, dig into it with one hand whilst the other continues to glide across the pages, correcting typos and sentences until everything sounds smooth.

  You reach an area of the catalogue that describes Bangtan Sonyeondan, and put it to the side for later. You don't want to think about Jungkook right now – well, you do, but it probably won't be for the best. Any time you see something that reminds you of him, you want to stop, snap a picture of it and send it to him via your stupid little Whatsapp group – that is time wasted, and you can't afford it right now.

  Seven am turns into four pm, turns into five pm, and you're stuffing the catalogue pages into the return envelope at the same time you're pulling your jacket on over your shoulders and sprinting out the door. You don't bother saying hello to the friendly door lady at the reception desk. You don't bother to check both ways before sprinting out the door and barrelling up the street towards the Big Hit building. The only thing you can focus on is the time slowly trickling away, and by the time you've crashed into the lobby of the Big Hit building, the time reads 5:01pm and you're already planning out your new CV in your head.

  You groan, sprinting up to the front desk and slapping the envelope onto it. “Here. It's here. I wasn't late. I was just -” You pant, trailing your fingers over your rain soaked hair. “Please tell Mr Bang the pages are finished.”

  The lady at the desk eyes the envelope and raises her brows, before slowly reaching forward and slipping it into the delivery bin beside her. “Thank you, Y/N. I'll email him now.”

  “Like, right now?” you push. You stand on your tip toes and try to see over the desk. “Can I see what you write? Please tell him I was on time, I was just-”

   Hands gently grip your elbow, startling you. Jungkook is grinning down at the receptionist as he pushes you away from the desk. “Don't mind us, Gertrude. We're leaving now.”

  You shrug out of his grip, spinning around when he pushes you into a nearby hallway and closes the door. He turns back to you, raising a brow that holds so many questions, but your only concern at the minute is whether or not Bang Shi Hyuk is going to receive those pages on time.

  You try to look over his shoulder. “Do you think he'll be mad at me?”

  “You weren't even late,” Jungkook replies.

  You pull your sleeve up and shove your watch in his face. “Can you see that? Five. Oh. One. He wanted them back by five, but I lost track and-”

  Jungkook reaches up and tugs on your bottom lip. The action is so unexpected that you don't even continue speaking once his hand drops back to his side – you just watch his arm swing, eyes slowly narrowing.

  “What did you just do?”

  “Tried to calm you down,” he replies. “Or shut you up. Whichever way you wanna look at it.”

  You frown, shifting your eyes to his. “I think I'm delirious. I've been sat at my kitchen table since seven this morning.”

   “So I thought,” he says. “You weren't answering my texts, or my single phone call that I so kindly wasted my lunch break to make.”

   You wince. “Sorry. I was busy.”

  He waves a dismissive hand, but the guilt is still there; Jungkook always makes time for you, no matter how busy his life gets, and you can guarantee that his schedule is a lot busier than yours on days like this. You can see it in the way the sweat clings to his baggy black shirt, the way the ends of his hair are damp.

  “Did you eat anything good today?” he asks.

  “I had some Chinese takeout.”

  “Gross. That's not good at all.”

   “It was good.” You pat your stomach for added affect. “I had fried rice, chips, egg noodles – the whole damn heap. Ate it straight out of the bag, too.”

  Jungkook crinkles his nose, and it's the most adorable thing you've ever seen. “I swear to god, I'm going to have to keep an eye on you 24/7. You're gonna end up giving yourself a heart attack.”

  “I was stress eating,” you say. “I was burning the calories by stressing. It's like I haven't even eaten.”

   Jungkook rolls his eyes, loops his arm through yours and starts down the hallway. You follow him, a new-found skip in your step that it seems only Jungkook can rattle into your system.

  He leads you right to the training room, where the rest of Bangtan are busy doing absolutely nothing. They lounge around, some of them laying on the floor, others sitting on spinny chairs that have absolutely no reason to be there. Namjoon is leaned against the wall; if you weren't careful enough, you'd mistake him for a house lamp.

  “Look who arrived,” Jungkook announces, shoving you into the room. The other boys chorus out a “Hi Y/N,” before going back to their exhausted scrollings of social media. “One minute late.”

  Jimin fake gasps. “Fired!”

  “Don't even joke,” you grunt, slumping down next to Taehyung on the floor. He leans over and shows you his phone screen, and you immediately take over his game of Angry Birds. He lets his head drop back to the floor and his eyes promptly close, as if he had just been waiting for someone to take over his game so he could go to sleep.

  “Hard day?” Namjoon asks.

  You shrug. “Stressful day.”

  “But at least you made it. Did you edit the pages Mr Bang sent you?” Seokjin asks.

  “Barely,” you reply, and Jungkook scoffs, kicking your foot.

  “You're being too hard on yourself. One minute late isn't a big deal – Mr Bang probably won't even get to reading them before he goes home tonight.”

  “So why did the little bastard make me run down here to get them to him by five?” You raise a brow at Jungkook. “Answer me that, Oh Great One.”

  “Because.” Jungkook sits down beside you, crossing his legs. “Having a deadline looks more professional than just telling you to get them in by the end of the day.”

  “Can someone tell him that I don't care about professional?”

  Seokjin sighs. “I've been trying to tell him that for years, Y/N. So far, no luck.”

  You groan, the sound mingling with the angry chipper of a bird who has just failed to knock down a house full of tiny green piglets.

  “It's done now, anyway,” Hoseok chimes in. He's barefoot again, his Balenciagas thrown carelessly to the side. “I say you celebrate.”

  “Mm. I could always order more Chinese food-”

  “Nope!” Jungkook exclaims. “Nope, nope, no. No more Chinese food.”

  You frown. “Who made you the devil incarnate this evening?”

  “You're gonna make yourself sick,” he says. “Celebrate some other way.”

  “I wish we could join you, but I'm exhausted,” says Yoongi.

  You wave a dismissive hand. “Don't worry. I am too, buddy. I'll probably just go home and get an early night.” You shoot Jungkook a glance. “Play a bit of Minecraft.”

  His eyes light up, a tiny smile twitching on his face that he tries to hide by ducking his head down and messing idly with the drawstrings of your grey sweatpants; you didn't even realise you were wearing them. You were too busy trying to leave the house to actually pay attention to your appearance.

  “Sounds like a night made for an elderly person,” says Jimin. “Right up your alley.”

  You throw Hoseok's Balenciaga at him.

  ---

  GoldenJeon is active, and you're ready to absolutely destroy him.

  Gathering snacks and a drink of water (healthy), you settle by your laptop and start playing. The two of you agreed to meet up on a server called The Hunger Games, in which the players are put against each other until there is only one remaining player – for years, you and Jungkook have squabbled over this game, making it much more dramatic than it needs to be, but it's all for the right reasons. Jungkook will call you in the middle of the game, speaking through gritted teeth, warning you not to jump out at him because he knows you're prowling around the corner, just waiting for him to drop his guard. Neither of you even pay attention to the other players; if another player kills you, Jungkook kills them. It's how it works. You're Jungkook's only goal, and he is yours.

  Jungkook calls you after the ten minute mark. Whilst he speaks through clenched teeth, you speak through a mouthful of marshmallow.

  “Just tell me where you are, you piece of shit,” he demands.

  “Ask me nicely.” On your screen, his tiny block player is busy scrambling through some chests. It would be so easy to sneak up on him, stab him whilst he's too busy looting for gear, but you stay back.

  “Y/N, I swear to god, you're giving me anxiety,” he replies. “Just tell me where you are. I promise I won't kill you.”

  “Aren't you sweet.”

  “So?”

 “I'm not telling you where I am.” You equip your player with your new weapon. “But I just want you to know that I've just found a diamond sword with full strength still on it, so I'd watch out.”

  Jungkook groans. “I hate you. I hate this game. I hate that you're so good at this fucking game.”

  “You spend too much time worrying,” you say. “As soon as the map loads, you're trying to get away from me. Why don't you actually try and figure out where I'm going before you run off in the other direction?”

  “Because if I stay close to you, you'll kill me!”

   “That's the point!”

  Jungkook groans again, and you can imagine him tugging on the blanket he always has wrapped round his shoulders when he's on his laptop. “You need to cut me some slack.”

  “You've been looting plenty of chests recently, Mr JK. It'll be easy for you to just find me and kill me.”

   Jungkook pauses. “How did you know I was looting chests?”

  You grin. “A hunch?”

  “You son of a bitch.” His character spins around and looks directly at you. You let out a squeak of surprise at the same time Jungkook gasps, but you don't give him mercy. You dive out of your hiding place and slam the space button so many times your finger starts to hurt from the pressure; your character bashes Jungkook's character with their fancy new diamond sword until eventually the words GoldenJeon has left the server appear on the bottom of the screen.

  “Y/N!” he cries out. “You didn't even-”

  “I won, is what I did,” you holler, throwing your arms in the air, doing a little dance on your mattress. “I won again, I won again, I won again.” You put your hands back to the keyboard. “Another game before we go to sleep?”

  “No, you know what?” He sounds stern, and you're no longer sure whether to continue the teasing. “No. This is totally unfair. I'm on my way over.”

   You freeze, not sure whether you heard him right. “You're what, sorry?”

  You can already hear him shuffling around on the other side of the phone, probably grabbing his coat, or maybe a baseball bat. “I'm coming over. Get the kettle on, by the way. I have to walk, and it's fucking freezing.”

  “Jungkook, it's twelve am,” you hiss. “Stay where you are or so help me-”

  “See you in five minutes, you little traitor!” And then he hangs up, leaving you in a sudden state of panic.

  Whatever triumph you'd felt at winning the game has melted away and been replaced by an immediate sense of urgency. You jump out of bed, blankets flying left, right and centre. You don't bother going for your wardrobe – Jungkook has seen you in your pyjamas plenty of times before (thank you, Skype). Instead, you head directly for the kitchen, slapping the kettle on on your way past before you busy yourself with tidying up the mess you'd made this afternoon. Broken pens and pencils scatter the table; old takeout boxes litter the counter; your washing up basket is filled to the brim. You quickly toss a pair of underwear under the fridge and hope to God Jungkook doesn't decide to go snooping.

  You've barely emptied the bin before the door to your apartment is opening and Jungkook is suddenly there, in all of his fucking glory, with the most hard expression you've ever seen. You swivel up, drop the bag and say, “If you're here to kill me, I want you to know that it was all fun.” You pause. “But I still beat your ass in that game.”

  Jungkook rolls his eyes, and before you can process what is going on, he's crossed the threshold of your living room and is standing right in front of you. He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into him, startling you enough for a squeak to escape your throat.

  Jungkook leans down, his lips so close to your ear, your throat, the hinge of your jaw and suddenly you want to drag him into you and lose yourself in that warmth you were lusting over only a few weeks prior.

  “I've never been able to do this before,” he says, voice gruff.

  “D-do what? Kill me?”

  He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, and Jesus take the wheel, you've had it.

  “I've never been able to just come over to your house when I want to.” If it's possible, his voice is even lower. “Never been able to call you a son of a bitch to your face, because you should have told me where you were.” He nips your collar bone. If the world wasn't spinning fast enough already, it sure is now.

  You grip the counter behind you, breathing heavy. You want to continue the teasing, to make light of this situation, but your head is running at a thousand miles per hour and holy fuck is this really GoldenJeon holding you like this?

  “Jungkook, what are you doing?” you ask, breathless.

  He stops, detaching his teeth from your throat but he doesn't move away. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No!” You're eager, and that much is clear in your words. “No, please don't. I just want to know why.”

  “As I said,” he says, leaning down to bare his teeth against your flesh again, “I've never been able to do this before.”

  “I didn't know you wanted to.”

  “Then you're very, very oblivious.”

  “Not as oblivious as you. That's probably why I was able to kill you fifteen minutes into the first match.”

  He growls. His hand snaps down and grabs the back of your thigh, hitching your leg onto his hip. You squeal, tossing your head back just as he lifts you up and props you up on the counter. You bang your head against the cupboard. Jungkook pulls back, eyes wide with that concern you know so well, but you don't let him spoil the moment. You grab onto the back of his neck and drag him forward, slamming your lips against his before you lose your god damn mind.

  Because that's what it feels like. All of this is so sudden, so unexplainable and strange, but you're going to be driven absolutely insane if it doesn't continue. Your stomach clenches. You swallow his breathy pants, acknowledge how his lips twist, how his hands hesitate before he finally clamps them on your thighs and slowly drags them up until they're teasing the waistband of your unflattering pyjama trousers.

  “Shy little Jungkook,” you whisper into his mouth. “So confident a few seconds ago, and now you can barely touch me.”

   “Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks.

  The question hits you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes flutter closed. His mouth trails hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw as he waits for your reply, but you're not sure you can gather enough air to give him one at this moment in time.

  His grip tightens on your thighs. Your legs jerk, but he holds you down. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, Y/N.”

  “Everywhere,” is your reply, because you can't think of one specific body part this is burning hotter than the others. “Just – Just stop messing around.”

  Jungkook chuckles. His tongue darts out, dabs at the hinge of your jaw before disappearing, and you want to scream with how slow he's taking this, like he's savouring every moment even though you're trying to scoot closer to him, trying to capture his lips with yours again.

  “Do you want me to touch you here?” He curls his fingers around your leg, his fingertips moulding into the flesh on your inner thigh.

  You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Somewhere else.”

   He raises a brow, slowly lifts his hand to your mouth. His thumb scrapes along your lower lip, and you resist the urge to do that thing you've seen in movies where the girl sucks the mans thumb into their mouth – is that even considered attractive in real life?

  “What about here?”

  “Not good enough.”

  He tilts his head, starts to smirk. His hand drops from your lips, glides along your chin and disappears into the front of your pyjama top. “Here?”

  He's not close enough. Your only response is a strangled groan, to which Jungkook laughs and slips his hand lower, lower, lower until his fingers are moulding the area you need to him to be.

  You groan, tilting your head back when his hand traces the underside of your breasts. “Fucking hell, Jungkook, took you long enough.”

  He leans forward and kisses you. It's desperate. Now that he's heard your response to his hands, he can't get enough. He wants to please you. He wants to take this as far as he can, and he shows this by hitching both your legs around his waist, picking you up and stumbling from the kitchen.

  “Where's the bedroom?” he asks, breathless.

  You point in the general direction he's referring to before pressing your lips to his. No more talking. He could stumble into the bathroom for all you cared, and you'd have him in the bathtub with absolutely no complaints.

  It's your luck that he kicks open the bedroom door and presses you into the mattress. His lips detach from yours for only a second as he strips off his shirt and you strip off yours; he gawks down at your exposed chest, shakes his head and says, “No bra?”

  “It's midnight,” you say. “I haven't had a bra on since seven pm.” You grab his shoulders and pull him on top of you. “Now please stop talking.”

  He laughs, peppering kisses along your jaw that leave you squirming and warm and satisfied. If he were to just spend the entire night kissing you, you'd go to sleep in bliss. His lips work like electric shocks, startling you every time he makes contact, every time his tongue slips from his mouth and joins with your flesh. You feel hickeys burn into your skin, but you don't worry about them now because God, you're too far gone. Tomorrow doesn't exist. It's tonight and only tonight, and it's you and Jungkook and everyone else can go the fuck to hell for all you care.

  He whispers in your ear. His voice is rough. The soft spoken, excitable boy you used to talk to on the phone every night has melted away into something ravenous and hungry, and his hips are grinding into yours with only his jeans and your pyjama trousers as a barrier, until there is no longer a barrier and it's just bare skin against bare skin.

  He asks if you're ready. You say you are. He asks if you're sure, and you say you've never been more sure about anything in your entire life, and in that moment, you mean it. He kisses you, and it isn't the kiss you give someone on a one-night-stand. It's soft, holding memories and feelings and his body slides against your own and your groans contaminate each others mouths. You get loud; Jungkook gets greedy. You beg for more, and Jungkook tells you you're doing so well, so, so well. You unravel in each others arms. Jungkook falls to the side of you, nuzzles his head in your sweaty neck and you hold him so close because you don't want this moment to end.

  “Tomorrow isn't real,” you whisper into his hair. He nods his agreement, panting against your flesh. His breath tickles your new hickeys. You reach up, press your fingers into the forming bruise.

  Jungkook presses a soft kiss to the skin. He's loopy. You look down and see that tired smile playing on his face, the sweat drenched ends of his bangs hanging in his eyes. He shuffles up the pillows, wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

  You don't think he realises what he's saying when he whispers “I love you,” into your hair.

  You look up. His eyes are closed, his breathing even. Jungkook is peaceful, but his words play on a loop in your head for the rest of the night.

  ---

  When you wake up, Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

  Your heart immediately lurches into your throat; this can't be happening. You know Jungkook well enough to know that he would never just use someone like that before taking off – so he's either parading around your house, or he's dead.

  You slowly sit up, tucking the quilt under your arms in a pointless attempt at sparing your dignity. The sheets are stained with sweat and . . . other stuff, and you internally groan at the idea of having to wash them; your new washing machine is complicated enough with clothes.

  You make a promise that you'll deal with them later before slipping out of bed and tugging your dressing gown on. You slip into a pair of slippers and head downstairs.

  Immediately you are greeted by the welcoming scent of cooking bacon. It's only when you walk into the kitchen and glance at the clock do you realise what time it is.

  “Six am?” you mutter, startling Jungkook. He stands by the hob, swaying his hips to a song that is playing softly from his phone.

  He spins around, face lighting up at the sight of you, even though you're certain you look nothing short of bedraggled right now. Whilst he looks fresh as a daisy in a black shirt that is tucked lazily into a pair of belted blue jeans, your hair is knotted and your breath stinks, and you have absolutely no qualms about any of it.

  “Apparently,” Jungkook replies. “I was hoping to make you breakfast in bed.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” you say. “But also, you're a guest. You shouldn't have to make breakfast.” To prove your point, you grab the tongs out of his hand and nudge him with your hip. He chuckles, giving you the benefit of the doubt by over dramatically stumbling out of your way. You roll your eyes and start poking at the mostly cooked bacon.

  “At least now you'll be able to say you helped,” Jungkook says.

  You grin. “I'm nothing if not completely useless.”

  “Only sometimes.” He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, and it is this movement that brings you back to last night; the kissing, the sex, sharing a bed.

  The I love you.

  You'll be damned if you bring that up to him, though, because judging by the look on his face, he doesn't even remember saying it. He sways around the kitchen like he's lived there his whole life, a goofy smile on his face that has your chest constricting, because you're fairly certain it's you that has put that smile on his face. He grabs two plates from the cupboard above your head and lays them on the counter, before he goes back to watching as you poke the bacon.

  “How do you know when it's done?” you ask.

  Jungkook blinks. “It's been done for a good two minutes. I thought you just liked yours crispy.”

  You hiss, quickly turning the hob off. “You could have said something!”

    “Give it here.” He takes the pan from you and starts scooping the bacon onto the plate. You follow suit, grabbing the bowl of scrambled eggs he'd prepared earlier and adding a decent amount to each plate. Jungkook then spoons the beans and adds the toast to the side, and the two of you are prepared.

  You eat on the sofa, because of course you do.

  Jungkook eats bent over his plate. You don't know why you notice this, or why you're so intrigued by something so small, but you struggle to take your eyes off him. He presses the edge of the plate into his chest and bends forward, his eyes not leaving the TV as he struggles to rip a bit of fat from his bacon.

   You watch his Adams apple bob, remembering the feel of it beneath your lips. You regret not trailing your fingers along the column of his throat. You regret not unravelling him, completely taking over in the way you so desperately want to now; you had been so caught up in the logistics of what was happening that you didn't take a moment to focus on what you wanted to do; you realise now that you want to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head. You want to see him come apart.

  You swallow thickly and turn back to the TV, cheeks burning. You need to remind yourself that you have other things to worry about besides what happened last night; the work hasn't just stopped because Jungkook decided it was a good time to show up and completely ravish you.

  Jungkook finishes his breakfast before you. As he nibbles on the last remaining bites of his toast, he turns and glances down at your plate; it's nearly empty, and yet he still raises a brow. “You feeling okay?”

  Your eyes shoot up. “Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

  Jungkook stares at you for a moment longer, urging you to tell him the truth. When you look back down at your plate and ignore his seemingly endless gaze, he sighs, sets his plate down on the coffee table before shuffling closer to you. “Is this about last night?”

  You let out a breath. “I really thought you weren't gonna bring that up.”

  “Do you want me to leave it?”

  “No!” You grab his arm. “No, Jungkook, of course not. I really think we need to talk about it, but I just . . . I wanna know your feelings on it first.”

  Jungkook narrows his eyes, tracing the lines of your face, the same trail he traced with his fingers last night. “I thought I made my feelings pretty obvious, considering I was the one who initiated it in the first place.”

  “That doesn't mean anything,” you murmur, looking down. “I could have been bad at it, you know.”

  A noise not unlike a croak escapes Jungkook's throat. It slowly morphs into a laugh, his hand coming down upon your knee and squeezing.

  When you don't join the laughter, his smile fades and he stares at you. “Wait. You're not serious, are you?”

  You throw your hands up in frustration. You hadn't even realised this train of thought was so prominent in the back of your head, but there's no denying it now. “Look, all of it was very unexpected. I didn't have time to – like – practice my strategy or anything.”

  “You didn't need to-”

  “Yes, I know that, but it would have helped,” you hiss, before groaning and slumping back against the plush sofa cushions. Your plate remains abandoned on the coffee table. Jungkook looks down at it, picks up a piece of bacon and takes a bite.

  “I definitely came.”

  He says it so casually that you very nearly miss what he's said at all. Your eyes burst open, cheeks burning with this news that isn't really news because you know what happened – you were there. You made it happen.

  “You made it happen,” Jungkook continues, as if reading your mind. “And you definitely came.”

  “Oh god.”

  Jungkook grins. “I think I have the qualifications to vouch for that.”

  “You're a dick.”

  His grin only grows. He leans over and presses a kiss to the space just below your ear; you hiss and pull away, hand snapping up to trace the edge of the hickey you'd forgotten was there. Jungkook pushes the hair from your shoulder and lightly touches it, biting his bottom lip to fight off the smile that is surely threatening to show on his face.

  “Lovely,” he says.

  “I'm gonna have to cover this now,” you grumble. “Do you know how difficult it is covering a hickey?”

  “No, considering you didn't give me any.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I'm missing out.”

  “Poor baby.”

  He shrugs, swings his legs round and stands up. He grabs the plates off the coffee table and starts towards the kitchen, but not before saying a casual, “We'll try again next time,” that hangs in the air even as the sound of the tap water shatters the delicate silence.

  You grin, biting down on your bottom lip. Butterflies are attacking your stomach. Memories of last night are lodged in your brain, and you know for a fact that there is absolutely no way in hell you'll be getting any decent work done today.

  ---

  Jungkook leaves for the dorms at seven. On his way out the door, he bends down and picks up a thick yellow envelope, handing it to you.

  “I think that might be the new catalogue pages,” he says.  

  You hollow out you cheeks, taking the envelope from him and tossing it carelessly over your shoulder. “Tell Mr Bang I'll get it to him as soon as possible.”

  “Mm, no,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Then the old man will know I've been here overnight, and that is awfully suspicious.”

  Despite knowing this would be the case, your heart still quivers a little. You hide it by rolling your eyes and ushering him out the door. “Fine then. Leave the hard work to me. You go and prance around your practice room for a few hours, and call me as soon as you get a chance.”

  Jungkook spins, planting his hands on the door frame. “One more kiss?”

  You narrow your eyes. “You're gonna be that guy.”

  “I believe this is called the Honeymoon Phase.” He kisses you, small and soft but it ignites something in you you've never felt before. Jungkook feels it, grins against your mouth before slowly pulling away and clicking his forehead against your own. “I'll see you later, yeah?”

  “We'll see,” you whisper, before you grip his waist and spin him round. “Now go! I'm not being the reason you're late.”

  “Alright, alright. Tell me how you really feel.” His voice and laughter fade into nothingness as he disappears down the hallway. You watch him leave, gripping the collar of your dressing gown like some kind of wife sending their husband off to war. You only turn and head back into your apartment when you hear the lift ding closed.

  ---

  You love your job. You really do. There is a power that comes with correcting other peoples mistakes, and you are not ashamed to admit that you have been thriving off it from the moment you picked up that red pen and started slashing marks into the pages.

  But this is a whole different ball game.

  You're hunched over your kitchen table, your third cup of coffee half-empty beside you, doing nothing to help the exhaustion. Your body is slowly beginning to realise that you were not made for being woken up at six am. Your muscles are sore, and your eyes are getting tired before you've even gotten through the fifth page of edits.

  You lean back, scraping a hand through your unwashed hair that is still sweaty from last nights mishaps. You told yourself you would take a break to clean up and pull yourself together, because going another day in this state is going to drive you to breaking point, and yet three pm is rolling around and you have yet to move from your kitchen table.

  The pages are littered with images of Jungkook. With Bangtan being the only group involved with Big Hit at the minute, they're using their maknae's adorable smile and doe eyes to the best of their abilities. It makes your job ten times more difficult, as you have to stop every few seconds to send a picture of Jungkook's face to your Whatsapp group with a teasing caption that Jungkook always chooses to ignore in favour of asking you how you're getting on.

  Not good, you want to tell him, but you don't. He's working just as hard as you; it would be cruel to distract him with your own pointless stresses.

  And so you lose yourself in the world of literature for a few more hours, until the last page is glaring up at you and your hand is cramping, and you're refilling the ink on your sixth red pen. Five pm rolls around, and once again you're shrugging your jacket on and bolting down the street towards the Big Hit building.

  Mr Bang is standing in the lobby.

  You freeze, one hand braced against the glass door, the other clutching the envelope tight to your chest; well, this is most unexpected. Though you and Mr Bang have spoken on numerous occasions these past few weeks, most of those conversations were had via phone call. You had convinced yourself that the small man in front of you lived in his office.

  He turns when you enter, immediately smiling an oddly cute smile that lights up his whole face and crinkles his dark brown eyes. He nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and steps towards you.

  “I was just about to call and ask where you were,” he says.

  You shove the envelope in his direction. “All done!”

   “Great, great.” He tucks the envelope into his coat pocket. You resist the need to wince; he better not crinkle those god damn pages, or so help you- “The edits aren't the only reason I was looking for you, though.”

  Your brain short circuits, and you aren't even sure why.

  Today has honestly been the day from hell. Your head aches, and your hand is cramped, and all you want to do right now is curl up on your sofa with a glass of wine and drink everything away. Instead, you place a smile on your face and say, “Oh?”

  Mr Bang sighs, looks around as if checking for anyone eavesdropping before he steps closer to you and lowers his voice. “Have you and Jungkook fallen out?”

  Okay. That certainly wasn't what you'd been expecting.

  You raise a brow, flicking a glance over the big boss's shoulder. Gertrude quickly lowers her head, pretending she hasn't heard anything, but it's obvious in the tilt of her head and the shy little smile on her face that she knows exactly what Mr Bang is asking about.

  You look back at him. “I don't – I don't think so. Why?”

  “Well, I told him I was going to offer you a job in one of the offices here so you don't have to keep running back and forth from your apartment,” he says. “Jungkook told me not to.”

  It takes a minute for you to untangle what all of this means. It's the most absurd thing you've ever heard. It doesn't make any sense, because you and Jungkook slept together and he held you, and he said he loved you and there's no way in hell all of that changed in the space of a few hours.

  But Mr Bang is serious. His eyes shift to the floor when you stay silent, and you watch as he slowly sucks in a breath.

  “I don't like it when my employees go against each other,” he says. “I asked Jungkook if everything was alright and he refused to tell me anything. He's young, so I didn't push him, figured I'd let him figure it all out on his own. But I just want you to know that whatever this feud is – you can't let it get in the way of your work.”

   “There is no feud,” you burst out. “I mean, not really. Nothing you need to be worrying yourself with, anyway.”

  Mr Bang's eyes light up. “Really? That's fantastic, Y/N. How about you come and join us for dinner then?”

  Before, the idea would have lit something inside you. The idea of sitting beside Jungkook and laughing with your friends would have excited you to no end, but you replay Mr Bang's words on a continuous loop and find yourself unable to gather that same excitement.

  You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jacket and say, “I think I'm gonna have to pass. I'm exhausted.”

  Mr Bang nods as if he understands. “Of course. I'll send the next few pages over tomorrow, then. Get some rest, Y/N.”

  You turn on your heel and exit the building. It feels permanent. You want it to be permanent. You want to walk to your apartment, pack up your stuff and never come back. You feel like a teenager, moping over some boy, suddenly willing to change the directory of life just because this certain someone slipped up and hurt your feelings.

  But that emotion is there. You grip the material of your pockets and inhale the cold air of Seoul, ducking your head down in case anyone were to notice your gritted teeth.

  ---

  It's nearly eleven when the knock echoes through your apartment.

  You're draped across the sofa, a glass of wine in your hand, the TV blaring re-runs of Friends. You've been sneering at Ross Geller for the past three hours, and quite frankly, you are in no mood to be disrupted.

  You stay silent and hope the visitor takes the hint.

  It's never that easy, though.

  The knock sounds again. And again. On repeat until you eventually throw your head back and push yourself off the sofa. You slam your glass of wine down and barrel towards the door, throwing it open to reveal GoldenJeon in all his glory.

  Your drunken state wants to spit on him.

  He's grinning from ear to ear, hands in his pockets, hair a tussled mess. Even in your state of tipsiness, you still reach out and flatten a strand against his temple; you pull your hand back just as quick, tucking it under your armpit as if to restrain yourself from touching him further.

  He frowns when he sees the state you're in. You have no idea what you look like, but you're purposefully scowling to the best of your ability, arms folded, the glass of wine bright and full on your coffee table – it wouldn't take a genius to figure out just what is going through your mind right now.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Why are you here?” you demand. “I didn't invite you.”

  Jungkook's frown deepens. A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Since when did I need an invite?”

  “Since you started showing up uninvited and interrupting my relaxation time.” You try to slam the door on his face, but he wedges his foot between the frame and pushes it open again.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, poking his head through the tiny gap he's created. “Are you gonna explain to me what the hell is going on?”

  “No. Go away.”

  “I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're mad.”

  “I'll literally call the police.”

  “No you won't.”

  You purse your lips, turn on your heel and B-Line towards your cell phone. Jungkook shoves the door open and follows after you. You pick up the phone, but Jungkook is quicker; his fingers curl around your wrist and it is with barely any effort that he plucks the phone from your hand and tosses it onto the couch. He keeps your wrist in his grip, staring down at you with a set of eyes that – any other day – would have you pouncing on him in two seconds flat.

  “Let go of me,” you say.

  He does.

  “And get out.”

  “I'm so confused right now. I thought we were okay.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Is this about last night?”

  You groan. “For crying out loud, Jungkook, I'm drunk. Why can't you just take the hint and piss off?”

  He flinches. There's a tiny glimmer inside you that wants to apologise, wrap your arms around him and tell him you didn't mean it, but then you hear Mr Bang's voice in your head and your senses draw back to you.

  “You didn't join us for dinner,” he says. It's almost a subject change. Again, you want to spit on him.

  “I don't think you'd have been too happy if I showed up,” you reply. You take another swig of your wine. “Apparently you only really like me when I'm underneath you.”

   Jungkook's eyes widen. His hands twitch by his side, and he reaches up to deftly rub at this throat. “What are you talking about? You know that's not true.”

  “So why don't you want me working in the same building as you?”

  There is no way to make that sentence sound intimidating, no way to get your anger across without sounding childish and needy; you and Jungkook spent one night together. If he thought it was a mistake, you would respect that – but he didn't need to cut you off from your work, didn't need to come crawling back when he was in the mood. If he found regret in last nights endeavours, it would be so much more merciful if he just left you alone.

  His face softens. It's an expression of realisation, the fact that he's been caught out dawning on him. It's enough to make tears rise to the surface, and you blame the wine but it builds in your chest, grabs at your throat. Jungkook sees it – he lurches forward. You don't even fight when he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into his chest, his chin taking perch on the top of your head.

  “No,” he says. “No, I didn't mean it like that. Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. I said it to protect you.”

    “Protect me?” You jump away from him, stumbling but managing to catch yourself on the sofa at the last moment. “How could that protect me?”

  “We're not meant to have what we have,” he says, running his hands through his hair. He's trying not to touch you. You're trying not to throw yourself into his arms.

  “What is that, Jungkook?” you ask. “What do we have that is so special? Because last time I checked, all we've done is slept together and played a few rounds of Minecraft.”

   “That's not true. We've got more than that. You're more than that.”

  You grit your teeth, turning on your heel. Your wine sloshes, drenches your wrist but you don't even care. It triggers you to take another swig, then another, and another until the glass is empty. “You know what? I don't think I wanna play this game. I've never let a man dictate how a relationship works, and I'm not about to do it now.”

  Jungkook groans. “I'm not dictating-”

  “Telling your boss to keep me off the fucking premises so you can keep our friends-with-benefits subtle-”

  “And we're not friends-with-benefits!” Jungkook steps forward, grabbing your wrist before you can reach for the bottle of wine. You glare at him, hoping and praying that your eyes look menacing enough right now; you want him to know how angry you are. You want him to see how bad he's hurt you.

  His eyes trace your own. He's looking for forgiveness, but you won't give it to him. His lower lip trembles and he sucks it between his teeth.

  “I don't want us to be friends-with-benefits,” he whispers, fingers still curled round wrist. “I got carried away last night, but I didn't show up just to have a quickie and then leave. I want – I want more.”

  You stare back at him, unsure of what to say. There are so many responses that are playing on the tip of your tongue, but none of them seem right. Not when his eyes look like that. Not when he slowly leans forward and presses a kiss to the flesh just beneath your ear – right over a hickey he sucked into your skin the night before.

  You shiver, wrist sliding out of his suddenly slack grip.

  “Tell me if you want more,” he whispers.

  You close your eyes, tilting your head to the side. Your drunk and angry and turned on, and at this point it's too late to turn back. You do want more – you want it all. You want everything he is offering, but you know better.

  You step away from him. He looks at you, analyses the way you're standing, the way you fold your arms over your chest because you're so scared you'll crack again, so scared you'll reach out and touch him and lose yourself entirely.

  “I want you to leave,” you croak out. The words are acidic. They're a betrayal, but you have to say them.

  Jungkook's features harden. He looks down at the ground, brushes his foot against the carpet only once before he nods and says, “So that's it then? There's nothing I can do to make this better.”

    “You can't expect me to like this arrangement,” you reply. “I'm not sneaking around with you. I've got too much going on as it is without stressing over being caught with you.”

   Jungkook nods, but you're not entirely sure he understands. Maybe he hides a ton of stuff from Mr Bang. Maybe sneaking around is his forte, but you haven't had as much experience as him in this line of work. You're not ready to put your entire career on the line to be with someone who clearly doesn't care about you enough to want a real relationship.

  And god the thought hurts. The realisation hurts. Before, you failed to realise just how much of an integral role Jungkook played in your life, but looking at him now and knowing it will be the last time you'll ever be able to talk to him like a normal human being – it breaks something inside you. Little fourteen year old Y/N L/N is screaming in the back of your head, asking you what the hell you're doing.

  You push them away.

  Jungkook says nothing when he turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look back at you, barely utters a goodbye. He certainly doesn't apologise. He leaves you numb, watching the door swing closed behind him. You listen to the lift opening, closing, going down. You force yourself to stay rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to scramble to the window so you can watch him cross the car park.

  You have to let yourself believe that he is nothing more than another chapter in your life – necessary for your story, but you have to move on to know the conclusion.

  ---

  The pages are getting few and far between.

  Months have passed. You still see Jungkook everyday, but it's not how it was. He doesn't smile when he sees you. He doesn't text you to find out if you got home safe. If he can avoid looking at you at all, that is exactly what he does.

  In the beginning, you didn't want things to be awkward. You smiled at him, asked Yoongi if he was okay, made sure to check up on him when you could, but it got tiring after a while and you lost the motivation eventually. Jungkook wasn't giving you the same enthusiasm, so you no longer saw a point in trying.

  It's your last few days in Seoul. You can feel the end approaching, even though none of the Bangtan boys nor Mr Bang himself wants to admit it. Mr Bang lengthens the deadlines on your edits just to keep you around that little bit longer. The Bangtan boys invite you out for dinner, but you decline because you know Jungkook will be there and you don't want that kind of hassle.

  All in all, you are disappointed to say your last few months in Seoul have been terrible. Full of stress and avoidance, life truly did not give you an easy time of it.

  But your days are coming to an end. You stand by your bed now, looking at the packed bags. A lump grows in your throat; you swallow it down, swiping a hand beneath your eye in any attempt to hide the tears that are threatening to rise to the surface. No one is with you – it would be easy to just break down, because God only knows when you'll next get a chance, but you don't want to. Not even within the comfort of your own company. Crying means admitting you've been affected by the sudden shift in your life. Crying means admitting you got attached.

  Stupidly, obsessively attached.

  To a boy who was meant to be nothing more than a few texts on your phone screen.

  You busy yourself by reorganising everything yet again. It's the fifth time you've done it, and each time has been completely unnecessary. Your clothes are folded beautifully, your toiletries packed away, your sheets and work gear all tucked away neatly; you just need to do something. You finished the last few pages of the catalogue yesterday evening, sent them out and fled the Big Hit building before Mr Bang could make you emotional with any kind of farewell speech. You just needed out of there. Once you get back to your actual office, back home, you'll be fine. You'll be able to start over.

   It's as your reorganising that you realise you've missed something.

  How you missed it is completely beyond you, considering you've been through this five times already. You shoot up, spin around and glimpse your laptop on your desk, untouched for three days now. You've been too busy to even think about logging on and catching up with your gaming; besides, you didn't want to game. Not if Jungkook wasn't on the phone, yelling at you for the most trivial of things.

  But now seems a good a time as any.

  You slowly open it up, press your password in and wait for the Minecraft game to load up. It's ten at night, so nobody you talk to will be active; the game will be full of complete strangers, will be no fun. You'll sign out of it in a few minutes and go back to moping round your apartment, but at least you can say you've tried. It's a step in the right direction, a sign that maybe the spell Jungkook cast over you has melted away a little bit.

  You click on the server you so frequently play on, and look through the list of people active.

  GoldenJeon.

  You should delete it. The whole game, just get rid of it. It's no fun without Jungkook, but after the fight you had, it's no fun with him either. You don't want to play at all, so what's the point of even having it on your laptop?

  Despite these thoughts, the sense of them, you're unable to do anything but stare at his name. Your little character waits for the timer to start, signalling the beginning of the game, but you're not even preparing yourself for it. You're just staring at his name, blinking in gold letters.

   And then your phone chimes.

  Even though he hasn't texted you in weeks, you know it's him. You glance over, catch sight of his name, and you ask yourself why you even kept his number in the first place.

  Jungkook: Please don't surprise me this time.

  You bite your lip. That son of a bitch; he knows exactly what he's doing. He's prodding at your competitive side just to get a reaction out of you.

   But he's done it now.

   The timer counts down from three. As soon as the sirens go off, your hands are glued to the mouse and keyboard, and you're latching your view on Jungkook as his tiny little box character makes a dash directly for the woods; fool. He has no weaponry. Whilst everyone else headed straight for the chests in the centre of the map, Jungkook turned the other direction, thinking he would be doing something good by getting away whilst everyone else was distracted.

   However, you are not one of them distracted people.

   You sprint after him, even as your brain screams at you to just turn the bloody thing off and get back to being an Adult.

   You follow him deeply into the match, your phone chiming away at the side of you; it's Jungkook having a crisis, begging you to not follow him this time. You know he's only saying this because you will – you'll follow him, you'll kill his character and then you'll be reminded of the last time you did it, when Jungkook realised he could come over and yell at you in person if he so pleased.

    His character sprints through the map, gathering supplies and you follow him until he finally comes to a stop and you calculate your chances of survival if you were to just whack his head off now. You make your character crouch, duck behind a door frame as he shuffles around an abandoned house made out of bedrock (bedrock!).

   Your phone rings. You click ACCEPT without even thinking.

   “Where are you?” His voice his gravelly. It hurts to hear it.

   “Now why would I tell you that?” you ask.

    “I don't know why I never learn,” he grumbles. “You do this to me, you know. You make my head go somewhere else, and I can't use my common sense.”

   Your heart thunders. “It works in my favour, so I don't really mind.”

    “Are you gonna pop up out of nowhere again?”

  “Would you like me to?”

   Jungkook pauses. “I would. I really would.”

   “But then you'll be out of the game,” you tease. “Poor little Jungkook, losing another round of Hunger Games because he can't think straight.”

   He growls. It startles you, distracting you for a moment too long. Your eyes snap down to your phone, and you're positive it's only for a brief second, but by the time you look back up at the laptop screen, your character is being beaten bloody by GoldenJeon's stone pickaxe.

  Y/N has left the game.

  Jungkook doesn't laugh, doesn't yell in victory like you do every time you win. There's a single breath of humour-filled air before he says, “Got you.” And then he hangs up.

  You sit there, staring at the end credits and trying desperately to catch your breath; what the hell just happened? What the hell just happened?!

  He called you, is what happened. He had the nerve to pick up the phone and call you as if nothing had been going on these past few weeks, as if he hadn't ignored you, as if he hadn't completely ripped your heart from your chest and forced you to end things with him.

    You grit your teeth. This is what he wants. He wants you to play right into his hands so he can get the control back, and you're not about to let him get away with it.

   So you stand up, grab your coat and march right out the door.

   You know where the dorms are. You've been invited over more times than you can count, have broken Taehyung's heart by declining these invites, but you can't think of a better reason to make an appearance now. You shrug your coat on as you march down the street, turn the corner and head straight for the front desk.

  You're recognised and let inside almost immediately. You don't realise your relief until you're halfway up the stairs, heart thundering in your ears – this scene is so familiar. It's been reversed, but it's so familiar, and it makes your heart rate speed up to a rate you're pretty sure is considered unhealthy.

    You had won the game last time. Jungkook has marched into your apartment.

    Jungkook won the game this time. It's only fair for you to give him the same courtesy.

    You rack your knuckles against the door and wait for someone to answer. It takes two seconds, and there is nothing but undeniable relief when it's Jungkook's grinning face that appears in the doorway and nobody elses.

  You slam your hands into his shoulders and push him backwards. “You son of a bitch. I wasn't even ready!”

   Jungkook loops his arms round your waist and tugs you into him. You're so lost. You're so worked up and he looks so good, and he's just beaten you at a game you prided yourself on winning each and every time. He did it to tease you. He did it so this would happen, and you've walked right into his trap.

  But god, he smells so good, and his hair is slightly damp from a shower, and you're honestly prepared to make a fool of yourself if it means getting a glimpse of his toned torso one more time.

    “Sorry,” he says. “But I believe I won that round fair and square.”

  “You used a distraction tactic,” you hiss. “We never use a distraction tactic!”

  Jungkook raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. “I don't remember distracting you.”

   “You being on the phone at all was distracting enough.” You bundle your fists in his shirt, debate pulling him closer. You eventually decide against it and instead flatten your palms against his chest. “And then you kept making that stupid fucking noise, and I couldn't . . . I couldn't concentrate.”

   Jungkook's eyes flare. “I can't help it if you get distracted just by my voice.”

   “It wasn't your – Stop that!” You slap his chest and groan. “The point is, we need a rematch. That game wasn't fair, and you know it.”

   His hands tighten on your hips. You want to scream.

   “I really didn't take you as a sore loser,” he says.

   You scoff. “Don't act like you didn't come marching into my apartment when I won the last round.”

  That does it. The reminder settles between you, and you don't pull away even though you know you should. Jungkook's eyes – if possible – turn darker. Your breath hitches. The world is spinning too fast. You just want him to kiss you. You don't want any of this back and forth, teasing, talking in low voices – you just want him.

  You knot your hands in his shirt again. This time, you do pull him closer, but not by much. It's a little jerk that has his chest hitting lightly against your own, but he still isn't close enough for your liking.

   He inhales deeply. “I can't believe you're here after what I did.”

  You close your eyes. “We don't have to talk about that.”

  “I don't want to just sleep with you, Y/N.” He pulls away then, rakes his hands through his hair as if trying to restrain himself. “I told you on the day we argued that I don't just want to be friends-with-benefits. I want to be able to talk about things with you.”

    There are cotton balls in your mouth. It's hard to speak, so you just stare at him, hope that gets your point across.

  He bites his lip. “Is that what you want, too? Is that why you're here?”

   Is that what you want?

  On that first night, the first night Jungkook slept with you, you thought that was what you had. You'd never taken Jungkook as the type to have sex with someone and then just . . . leave, and that isn't what he did. Waking up to him cooking breakfast and his scent on your pillows felt almost natural.

  So of course you want it. You want him – not his body, but him. All of him.

    You swallow thickly and step closer. “If we're gonna make this work, we have to sort a few things out.”

   He nods too quickly, too enthusiastically. It rips your heart out of your chest. “Of course.”

  “I'm going back home in a few days,” you say, and Jungkook's hopeful expression fades. “I don't know – I don't know what that means for you. I don't know if that will make things easier. I don't know if me not physically being here will suddenly make Mr Bang let you date me, but-”

   Jungkook groans low in his throat. “I don't care about Mr Bang. I care about you.” He steps forward and cups your face with one large hand. “I made a mistake. I was so caught up in my contract that I didn't even stop to think about how Mr Bang would take my own feelings into consideration.”

   Your jaw drops, eyes snapping up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mr Bang knows we – we talk,” Jungkook stammers.

   You step out of his grip. “He knows you went against the contract?”

  “In the beginning,” Jungkook says. “He was disappointed, but he's known me since I was fifteen. I guess he took pity on me, because I was a mess when I went into work that day and told him. I'd just reached my breaking point.”

   “And he was okay with it?”

   “As I said, he was disappointed. Thought he could trust me and all that.” Jungkook winces. You place a comforting hand on his arm, knowing how hard it must have been for him to have disappointed one of the people he looks up to. “I said I was sorry, and then he – he asked me how things between you and I were going, and I got really confused. He said it as if we were together.”

   You bite your lip. “Okay...”

   “I turned round and told him you'd ended things because you didn't want to be sneaking around, and he just looked at me like I was insane. He asked me what I was doing, told me to talk to you and then he let me have the day off.”

   You swallow the golf ball sized lump in your throat, not sure what to say but knowing for a fact that you are really gonna have to thank Mr Bang for this.

   Jungkook rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “So I went home, logged onto Minecraft to see if you were there – you weren't, but I waited.”

  “You waited.”

  “And then you came online and I took my chance.”

   “You did indeed.”

   Jungkook lowers his voice to a whisper. “And now you're here.” It's almost like he's talking to himself, even though his eyes are burning holes in your own. “You're here and you're not saying anything.”

    You don't need to say anything. There are no words that can possible portray what you're feeling right now, so you do the next best thing. It's straight out of a cheesy romance movie, but you've learned from the best and you launch yourself into his arms, kissing him with the need and desperation that has been building in your system for weeks now.

   Jungkook grunts into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist. The two of you stumble until the back of Jungkook's knees are hitting against the arm of the sofa and he's falling backwards into the plush cushions; he doesn't let go of you, and your body ends up right on top of his own.

   You kiss him again, and again, and again. Not just on the lips, but everywhere. Peppered kisses behind his ear, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. Everywhere until he's giggling and trying to push you away from him.

    “You still played unfairly today,” you pant, exaggerating each word with a kiss to his forehead. “I want revenge.”

    “I'm excited to – hey! - find out how you get that revenge,” he replies, crinkling his nose up when you go to press yet another kiss there.

   His fingers are just starting to grip onto your belt loops when the door behind him opens. Jungkook's head snaps up, his hands tightening to keep you in place. Taehyung and Namjoon walk in, side-by-side, but immediately stop and raise their brows when they see the position you are currently in.

   Jungkook wriggles beneath you. You shoot upright, struggling to find your footing again. Jungkook grunts when you're forced to shove against his chest to get off the sofa. You turn to the two members of Bangtan and grin as Jungkook flops back onto the sofa and groans.

    Namjoon is the first to speak. “Hey Y/N. . . I see you took Taehyung's invitation.”

   “I did!” you exclaim, and then quieter, “I did. It's a lovely place you've got here.”

   “Apparently we've also got a lovely maknae,” Taehyung says, wriggling his brows, and Jungkook buries his head in the sofa pillows. “I always knew something was going on with you two; you're the only person I know who can distract Jungkook long enough to break him away from his work.”

   You raise a brow, flicking your eyes down to the boy in question. He peeks at you with one eye, half of his face still pressed into the cushions, and grins an embarrassed grin. You smile right back, pushing down a laugh.

   “Come on, Tae,” Namjoon chuckles. “Let's leave them alone for a bit. I think they have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Taehyung rolls his eyes, mouths Use protection before he and Namjoon turn and leave the room. You glance back at Jungkook, raise a brow.

    “He's totally lying, of course,” he assures, voice muffled.

   You chuckle and bound back onto the sofa, circling your arms round his torso and going back to pressing loving little kisses to every part of his face you can think of.

   ---

   Jungkook presses his chin into the crown of your head and sighs yet again. “You're still so tiny.”

   “I'll literally start walking home now.”

  He groans, pulling you closer to his chest. “Don't say home. You're home is meant to be with me.”

   You close your eyes and tilt your head back. It rests in the hollow of his throat. You want to live there.

   “I'll visit you,” you say, even though it's not enough. It'll never be enough. “We managed to keep in touch since we were fourteen – this isn't anything new.”

    He sighs again. “I know. We'll make it work, just like we always do.” His arms tighten on your waist. “I'm just gonna miss this, that's all. I'm gonna miss you – you in your physical form.”

  “In what way do you mean physical form, Jeon Jungkook?”

   He leans down and nips your earlobe with his teeth. “Whatever form you're offering.”

   You chuckle and shake your head, beckoning him away. He goes back to resting his chin atop your head, the two of you looking out for the train that will soon be pulling up to take you home. Your bag is packed, but Jungkook placed it a few feet away because he didn't want to admit that all of your stuff was in there – that means permanent, apparently. Packing up your stuff means there's no option to come back. Looking at your suitcase, filled to the brim with the clothes he's seen you in, the clothes he's ripped off of you, made him uncomfortable.

    “I feel like adults are meant to handle this type of thing a lot better,” he says suddenly.

   You look up; his chin slides to your forehead as he refuses to move. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “Like – relationships. Love. Stuff like that. I should have grown out of my mine, mine, mine phase, but the idea of you just . . . walking away is literally ripping me open.”

    You bite your lip. “Jungkook...”

   “I get it if you don't feel the same way. I'm not asking you to.” He shrugs again, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so he can put his chin back where he is most comfortable. “It's only been a few months and I already feel like you should just be by my side all the time.”

   “I wish I could be.”

   “You do?”

   “I don't think I've ever clicked with someone like I click with you, Jungkook. I feel just as awful about leaving.”

    He sighs. Again. If you made this into a drinking game – drink any time Jungkook sighs – you would be falling head first into the train tracks by now.

    He hugs you impossibly closer, and the two of you fall into a thoughtful silence. In the distance, the whistle of the train sounds and you close your eyes, as if in doing so, you can somehow transport somewhere far, far away, with only Jungkook to keep you company.

   But reality is a bitch, and it slaps you in the face when the train pulls up and people start piling onto the carriages.

  You turn, quickly wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him, putting everything you can into the way your lips mould against his. He groans against your mouth – he always does – and he tightens his grip and you hope to God he just refuses to let go. You two can just live here, in this underground station, tangled in each others arms forever. You'll become statues, a part of the structure and nobody will bother you again.

   But the conductor calls a warning,and you know you have to go.

  You pull away. Jungkook's face falls, and his thumbs swipe beneath your eye. You didn't even realise you were crying until he shakes his head and says, “Soon. We'll see each other soon.”

   You nod, biting your bottom lip. You say the first thing that comes to mind, which might not be the best strategy considering this is the last thing you'll get to say for quite a while, but nonetheless, it's a perfect parting confession.

   “I love you, GoldenJeon.”

   His eyes widen. You panic, because that was certainly not what you planned on saying. He reaches towards you, but you press a final kiss to his lips, grab your suitcase and dart off towards the train only seconds before the doors close behind you.

   As the train speeds off, you turn in your seat. Jungkook is still stood on the platform, one hand raised to his lips and his eyes lowered to the floor.

    ---

  You're in your pyjamas again. Boring, stupid old pyjamas. You'd left them behind for a reason – you're wearing them now because you're trying to get back into routine. You have to be at the office tomorrow. You have to look Mr Grey in the eyes and thank him for the opportunity even though he was the one who ordered you home. You shouldn't feel angry, but you do.

  You press PLAY on your movie once again, having paused it to go and gather some ice cream and your laptop. You and Jungkook have only texted the odd time since you got home, with him claiming he wants to give you time to rest and you promising him that you were definitely, one hundred percent in bed and only seconds away from falling asleep.

   Turns out, falling asleep without Jungkook's arms around you is a lot more difficult than you'd originally anticipated.

  It's so weird. It's a phenomenon, considering you fell asleep without him your entire life. But now that you'd got a taste of just how luxurious sleep can actually feel, it's difficult to go back to square one.

   You click on the tiny little Minecraft icon and watch the screen load. It's almost instinctive when you log onto the all-too-familiar server. Again, it's much too late for Jungkook to be online – he told you he was doing some late night editing for one of his Golden Closet Videos, and you've seen him when he starts editing; he won't be looking away from that complicated editing screen for another few hours at least. His attention will be nowhere near Minecraft.

    It loads up, and of course, the little shit has lied to you.

  GoldenJeon is online.

  You narrow your eyes, hoping and praying he doesn't notice the little Y/N is online that appears in the corner.  

   But he's GoldenJeon. He notices everything.

   Your phone chimes. You wince, cautiously looking over as Jungkook's name flashes on screen.

  Jungkook: You weren't asleep for very long.

  Y/N: you weren't editing for very long.

  Jungkook: It's gonna be very difficult for me to come over and have sex if you win this match, you know. You didn't think this through.

  Y/N: i'm sure phone sex will be just as sexy.

  Jungkook: Let's give it a go.

  The match begins, and you win. It's no surprise – at this point, you're fairly certain Jungkook is just letting you win because he wants an excuse to come over.

   Or in this case, an excuse to call you.

   You pick up before the first ring is even over. Jungkook laughs at your eagerness before saying, “Miss me?”

   “More than anything. Now talk dirty.”

   “I love you.”

   You freeze.

   “Oh, did you like that one?” he teases. You can hear him grinning. You want to smother him – or kiss him. Either way, you can do neither. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

   “Jungkook-”

  “I've loved you since I was fourteen years old and you were just a weird little character on a shit, low budget game.”

   “I don't want you to talk dirty any more. Please keep making fun of me before I combust.”

  Jungkook chuckles. “Tell me you love me back.”

   “I said it first. You know I-”

   “Say it again. We're having phone sex, remember?”

   You bite your lip. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

    He inhales shakily. You can hear it, the rattle in his chest, the way he bites his bottom lip. You can imagine him tilting his head back in that way he does so often when you insist on walking downstairs in one of his shirts, or nothing at all if you're feeling particularly playful that day.

   “You're right, you know,” he whispers.

   “About?”

   “Phone sex really is just as sexy as the real thing.”

[ilguna]

Tacenda - Chapter Five (f.o)

Summary: you’ll never truly be free from the Capitol.

Word Count; 2.8k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You throw another pillow at Finnick’s head, making him roll over and turn his back to you. He’s not very amused by this game of getting him to get up and get ready for today, another training day. He’d rather stay and bed and sleep for a little while longer. You think that the games are just beginning to dawn on him.

He knows that they’re happening, just like everyone else does. But you think that the nightmares are beginning to sprout again. And just because it’s Finnick, he refuses to wake you up and tell you about them. He did it for a couple of years, and eventually stopped and you never got to know why.

He might have thought that it was affecting you, but  as far as you knew, it wasn’t. Or maybe it wasn’t completely obvious. Maybe you were hovering over him a little more to make sure that he wouldn’t have anything that would trigger him around. It seems like something you would do.

Unfortunately, you can’t remember that stuff anymore. It did happen a while ago, and if you were to bring it up now, he would find some lame excuse to get you off his trail. If he pretends like he’s uninterested in his own health, or makes it seems like it’s not as important as it is, he thinks it gets you off of his ass.

You make it seem that way to make him feel better. However, in the background you’re doing something for him secretly. Going to the doctors, mentioning it to Mags to get her advice, telling the people around you to watch what they say, etc. You worry over him like a concerned wife, because you are.

“It’s time to get up, grumpy.” you tell him.

He grunts.

Sighing, you head for the door so you can go to your room and grab your things. You’d think that the Capitol would think ahead and put some of your stuff in his room and vice versa, because you’re married and all that. Then again, you’re not really supposed to be spending the night in his room, being together or not, the rooms are made to fit one person at a time.

You grab another sports bra and the same leggings. You pull them on, skipping over a shower so you can take one later today. In the bathroom, you brush your teeth even if you’re going to eat in a moment. After putting your hair up, you debate over wearing shoes today.

Looking at the back of your feet, you frown when you see that it’s still healing. You applied the cream last night when it was given to you. But you suppose that it isn’t a life-threatening injury and they decided to give you something slow for it. Rather than having it heal all at once.

They want you to suffer a little bit or something.

You skip the shoes, and then head right back over to Finnick’s room. He’s sitting up at least, but he’s rubbing the side of his head like he has a headache.

“You feeling okay?”

“Just a nightmare.”

You go over, sitting on the bed, “Tell me about it.”

He clearly doesn’t want to tell you. Instead, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side. You hug him and sit there silently, not wanting to pry if he doesn’t want to say anything.

He kisses your forehead, “It’s… I’m afraid of you dying in the arena. I keep watching you slip through my fingers because of Typhoid.”

Ah, it’s that nightmare. He’s had it before, even years later, it haunts him. Watching you turn pale, and weak. Sometimes back home in District Four, he’ll worry about you drinking the water. Because you wouldn’t survive another round of it if it came as hard as it did the first time around.

“I suppose it could happen again,” you look up at him, “But it’s unlikely. We know to be especially careful now.”

He nods, “Yeah.”

“Are you going to get ready or do you want to sit here for a little while longer?” you tease slightly.

“I’ll get ready,” he lets you go, and you head to the bathroom to grab your wedding ring.

“I’m gonna scope out Mags and Elysia,” you tell him, “Also make sure to comb your hair.”

He gives you a straight face, not amused.

“Love you!” you chirp, before skipping out of the room and into the hallway. The door shuts behind you, and you take your time with making your way to the dining room.

Sitting at the table is Elysia, not quite Mags. Elysia looks up at you as you come closer, “Good morning.”

“Hi,” you greet, “Mags up yet?”

She nods, “She ate already, she’s going to go talk to your stylists today. I’ll be following shortly after. How’s your feet feeling?”

“Still healing,” you take your seat at the table, “I’m going barefoot again today just to make sure that I don’t fuck it up with the shoes that they provide.”

An avox serves the regular, lamb stew. She provides rolls, orange juice, water and coffee, as if you’ll be indecisive. As you drink the orange juice, Finnick comes into the room, all dressed and more awake than he had looked before. He sits to your right, and raises the question about Mags.

You answer it for Elysia, and he nods, not too worried about it. Mags will be doing her mentoring things. Making sure that your outfits for the interviews are coming smoothly, making adjustments as she sees fit. You told her that you don’t want yours to be as revealing as your chariot ride outfit, which is obvious.

All Elysia told you last night about the dress that you’re wearing, is that it’s a head nod towards your first interview dress. It’s very similar, but since you’re so grown up, they’ve adjusted it accordingly. Also because these games are for the big-kids. This is no walk in the park, you’ve got to look your best.

There’s been no word on what Finnick’s wearing just yet. You have a slight feeling that they might go for something much more comfortable for Finnick. All Finnick had asked was that he wouldn’t be wearing a suit. No blazer, or dress pants or fancy shiny black shoes. He wants something breathable.

It was an interesting take, considering that everyone will be going for something formal to make themselves look expensive and rich. While he’s going to be more laid-back. You suppose it fits his personality more, he’s not normally uptight with things. He lets things take its course unless he’s sure that it’ll end badly.

You and Finnick eat a couple of bowls worth of food, making sure to drink plenty of water in the process. Just before you go to leave, you drink all your coffee at once to ensure that you’ll be bouncing off the walls inside of the training arena. Elysia doesn’t find it so funny at first, but then she says, ‘wreak hell’ and you know she’s on board.

You and Finnick take the elevator, and just with your luck, it’s a full house. Katniss, Peeta and Johanna are already inside.

“The gang’s all here,” Johanna sounds thrilled, but she motions for you to join her on her side of the elevator.

Finnick takes the middle, smiling at Peeta slightly as he moves you to Johanna. Johanna finds this funny and she snickers to herself as she looks out the window.

Once the doors are opened, Johanna is the first out. You and Finnick follow behind loosely, not really in a hurry to get inside of the training center. It’s going to be the same as yesterday. Learning, catching up, fighting with holograms.

“Do you care if I stick with you guys today?” Peeta asks.

You’re a little surprised, looking over to him. Katniss doesn’t seem all that bothered, and she shrugs when you look to her. Almost like a ‘I don’t control him’ sort of shrug. She didn’t set him up to this, he’s making allies by himself, just as Haymitch said he would.

“Sure, if you can keep up.” Finnick tells him.

“We can make another rope swing,” you laugh, and Finnick joins in.

“You made one yesterday?” Peeta asks.

Despite you suggesting a rope swing, you head right over to the hologram spaces, right next to where the careers already are. You want to try the one where you’re in the middle of the station, have them run at you from all directions like Katniss had.

Only, you don’t want to be shooting arrows.

You pick up a sword, swinging it in your hand. It’s too heavy, so you switch it out for a different one. It’s just light enough, and you’re easily able to swing it in your hands like a spear.

“Here we go with the magic tricks.” Finnick teases.

You look over your shoulder at him, “Says you, you twirl around those tridents like they’re batons.”

“What can I say? They’re just so light.” he shrugs.

While you set up the station, Finnick talks to Peeta. He hands off the advice that really matters with the careers: they’re just not worth it. If you team up with them, then that means you have to be ready to turn on them at any given moment.

As you’re messing around inside of the station, you pause to catch your breath, “You need to be aware of their plans at all times. If you make good friends out of them, then you have a better chance at them getting too attached to kill you.”

“There’s that,” Finnick motions to you.

You go back to swinging the sword at the holograms that come.

“What else? That can’t be it.” Peeta says.

“Definitely not,” you grunt, dodging the orange knife that comes flying towards you, “I made friends out of the careers after Finnick had ditched me.”

“Strategy,” Finnick begins to argue.

You point the sword at him, “I think you mean ‘bullshit’.”

Finnick rolls his eyes, “Go back to fighting or whatever.”

“It’s over.” you tell him, heading over to where they’re standing. You’re a little bit lower than them, since they’re on a platform. You stab the sword into the foam mat and lean on the hilt of it slightly, “If you do end up teaming with the careers, all the more power to you. I was friends with them for a while, and they think and act like careers.”

Peeta looks over, and you and Finnick follow. They’re all standing with each other, talking, joking around, Brutus wanders over to the station programming tablet again and tries to set up a game for himself.

“They’ve got a tight knit community.” you tell him, “They’ve known each other for ten fucking years now. Getting in there wouldn’t be a bad idea if you want them to protect and save. However, this Quarter Quell is different because it’s all victors. They’re going to be merciless and go through people like they’re burning through paper. Soon enough, they’ll run out of people to kill and just settle for you guys instead.”

Peeta looks at you now, and you point to him, “Which is not how we won the games, by the way. I got caught too quickly.”

“She’s impatient.” Finnick jokes, and Peeta cracks a smile.

“I am not, he was getting paranoid.” you argue, pulling the sword out of the mat, “I did what I had to.”

“And nearly got yourself killed because of it!” Finnick gives you a thumbs up.

“Give him a good whack on the side of the head for me, will ya?”

Finnick gives Peeta a look that says ‘don’t try me’. He helps you out of the pit, and you drop the sword back where it’s supposed to be. You go ahead and grab a water bottle from one of the tables, and motion to Peeta.

“Show me what you can do.”

Peeta shakes his head, “I’d rather watch.”

Finnick laughs, “If you’re worried about us knowing your skills, then you are severely mistaken. Everyone here watched you play last year, don’t be so shy.”

You roll your eyes, not too interested in the fight that’s about to break out between them. They follow behind you as you head to some first aid place with a teacher and all. Peeta breaks off sometime during the walk, leaving you and Finnick to do your own thing.

Finnick had definitely annoyed Peeta, but he was telling the truth. There’s no reason for him to act like he doesn’t need to show everyone his skills. If anything, you show off, you make yourself bigger, and you get more allies. It’s all about strategy.

Then again, you’re already their allies. You and Finnick will be babying them inside of the arena presumably. Make sure that they don’t get into any fights with the careers, or some people that are outside of the alliance. As far as you know, at least half of the people inside of here are in it.

You and Finnick. Johanna and Blight. Cecelia and Woof. Seeder and Chaff. The morphlings. Beetee and Wiress.

At least half the people that you just named are capable of keeping Katniss and Peeta from getting killed. The others are just a buffer, distractions maybe. But what would be a perfect fucking distraction, would be if someone in the alliance gained the trust of the careers and then guided them around like dogs.

Your eyes flicker up to where they’re all training. They’re showing off, acting hostile to try and get people to be afraid of them. You’re not, though. It was a damn shame that they were picked–and others volunteered–to be inside of the arena, of course. But no one is undefeatable.

You’re sure that they would want Katniss as an ally, at least. They wouldn’t mind having you around either, you think. Just because they had tried to talk to you during the tribute parade after years of despising each other. Maybe they were hoping that an alliance would spark between you guys.

Imagine, the career districts all sticking together. You guys would be so hard to work past, just because of all the things you know between each other. Not to mention, you’re all deadly anyway. What would be even better, is if a few others were added to the equation as well.

Johanna, most definitely, and you’re sure that Blight would be good too. Katniss would have to be included because she’s skilled for long-range fighting. Maybe a few of the outsider districts, but you don’t know them well enough.

It would be a team to fucking beat. No one would stand a goddamn chance, and when you all would turn on each other. Call that a second fucking bloodbath, because no one is leaving that unscathed.

“Hey, Finn.” you nudge him slightly.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up from where he’s wrapping his hand with medical tape.

“What if one of us were to stick with the careers?” you ask him, and his face twists, “It’s just an idea, but hear me out. Let’s say that you go with Katniss and Peeta inside of the arena, and I go with the careers. I corral the careers to make sure that they keep away from you.”

Finnick makes a face, “Not a bad idea. But I’m pretty sure that you’d never leave my side for them.”

“Like I said, just an idea.” you look over to the careers, “I’m sure that Katniss and Peeta will be an ‘all hands on deck’ situation anyway.”

He laughs, “Tell me about it. Did you see the way Peeta soured up?”

You both turn to look to where Peeta and Katniss are standing together, “I bet they’re scheming.”

“Just like how you just were?” Finnick bumps you shoulder slightly, and you laugh, shaking your head as you look down at your ankle wrap.

“I think this is one sturdy ankle.”

“Never say that again, thank you.” Finnick says.

“I’ll remember this if you break your ankle inside of the arena,” you point at him, “don’t think I won’t let you suffer.”

“Like you’d let me run on a rolled ankle.” he scoffs, “Do you even know yourself, mom?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “Do not call me that.”

“You’re right,” he snickers to himself, putting the tape down almost like he’s preparing for a fight, “It’d be disrespectful to my actual mom.”

He was right, because you drop your tape too. You raise your fists, “You’re gonna eat shit here in a second.”

“Bring it on!” he laughs.

[rankdisasster]

in utero

“So, remember those prompts... well, I got more for you. Need 13 and 31, have fun with those two. ;P” requested by @fortheloveofhargrove

#13: “I thought you were dead.”

#31: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

warnings: ANGST 

—

Billy clicked his tongue and sang along to some mindless catchy tune beneath his breath as he eyed the dark and lonely road ahead of him. The radio was playing something he’d never even heard of before, but he was in a mood so good, so rare that it didn’t even matter. Drives like these were his favorite, when the world would just shut the fuck up for a second and he could run away to fantasy land in peace without any unwelcome intrusions. His right foot eased the gas pedal further down, gradually accelerating in hopes to arrive at his destination early so he could surprise her once she’s off the plane. The blonde boy behind the wheel felt almost as if he’d gotten slapped in the face with nostalgia as he recalled the last conversation he’d had with her before leaving.

Goodbyes were a thing that were never not painful or unsettling. That all too familiar dread of not knowing whether it’ll be the last time he’d see her, hug her, hell; even fucking smell her. As if it happened only yesterday, the boy could still hear the girl’s soft weeping muffled in his chest, can practically feel the way her body moved up and down with each broken sob. It was difficult to see someone usually so fearless, so composed and put together, like some CIA agent from an action flick break down and curl into him for warmth and support. He let a couple (okay, maybe more than a couple) salty tears of his own fall as he held her in his lap.

Y/N had been an irreplaceable constant back in the glory days, her having never broken his trust nor the laundry list of promises she’d sworn once the heartache of his departure had blown over. It was foolish to think that even for a second he could get over the bitterness of starting all over again at some mundane public school. It was also just as foolish to think he could just forget about missing her as the weeks turned to months and the months added up to a year. But that was just another ploy the universe threw his way, seemingly enjoying Billy’s pain and suffering. Tonight though, tonight was gonna be different. He won’t let a single thing overshadow him any longer. He refused to listen to his inner tormentor deep down that laughed whenever he tried rationalizing how he would go about giving his confession, telling her his secret. As Billy goes over the script in his head, he clears his throat and adjusts the rear view mirror to himself as he practices his performance again. Real casual-like, he flashes a smile over at his reflection, pretending it’s her that’s watching.

“Y/N, lookin’ ah, looking good. Beautiful, actually. Know you already got a line of guys tellin’ you this every damn day, but I mean it when I say you somehow get prettier every time I see you. I really missed us hanging out, y’know? Takes me back to all those long nights, and uh... since I left I’ve been thinkin’ a lot...” he licks his lips and thinks back to the lines he’d gone over in his head like clockwork. His face twists into something more down and depressing, like whatever he’s trying to say will only burden their already troubled lives. “Too much, actually. I realize I’ve done almost nothing else worth my fucking time here except think of you whenever I feel shitty or, or like when everything is too much yet not enough. It’s been — been one of the only things I feel has real meaning to it for once, actually makes sense. ‘Cause you get me, and no one ever surprises me unless you do, and ah...” the blushing blonde shakes his head, a stray blonde curl falling to his forehead in the process of scolding himself with a swear before starting over.

“You know what? Fuck this. Let’s just go. We could just fuck off somewhere, go get a couple drinks, have a couple laughs, and... fuck. Shut up, you idiot. Don’t quote Die Hard on her for fuck sake,” he slaps his palm on his face, scoffing at his own stupidity before his eyes grew twice their size realizing how close the airport had become in the distance. He feels the same old doubt return right over his shoulder, and it smirks as if it’s being proven right; that telling her what he feels really is a horrible mistake. That it’s nothing but a rotten idea he’ll regret when she laughs in his face and turns around to fly right back to Santa Monica.

Billy’s heart is practically in his mouth by the time he pays for the ridiculously priced parking ticket and makes his way to the gate. His fucking leg somehow decides to grow a mind of its own, bouncing up and down with urgency while his teeth are occupied with chewing his fingernails down to the nub. He remembers when the roles were reversed once upon a time, when he was on the plane and she was the one agitated while sitting in the airport. Y/N still had that precious pink flush coating her cheeks when he was ready to board his flight, holding onto one of his biceps when she’d whispered something in his ear that had stuck with him:

”Don’t ever forget to remember me, okay?”

When Billy finally opens his eyes back up to the world around him, a herd of exhausted and enthusiastic travelers alike have exited the gate and met their loved ones with tired hugs and kisses. He rubs his pant leg to settle down while eagerly scoping the crowd for her hair or her face. When his wide eyes finally lands on her, the twang in his gut seeps back up to the surface, making Billy helplessly weak in the knees as he throws himself off the chair and into a pose ready for a warm welcome. He flails his arms in the air for her attention and calls out her name with repetition like a nuisance, both careless and unaware of the ruckus he’s stirred in front of all the annoyed families surrounding him. When Y/N had seen it was Billy that was screaming up a storm, her face cracks up into that same shit-eating grin he’s always known and loved then jogs over. The desperate pair reunite in the middle.

“I thought you were dead or something, asswipe! Why didn’t you ever write or call?” Y/N squealed in his arms as he picks her up and spins her around with sloppy grace. Billy bites his lower lip as he puts her down, his hands going down to cup her cheeks with tenderness, as if she were something to be cherished forever, and she is.

“Eh, some things are just better said face-to-face I guess,” he shrugged, giving her cheek a peck before bending over to pick her bags up and swing them effortlessly over his shoulder. As they bicker back and forth like the good old days while making their way to the dark busy parking lot, Billy can say with utter undeniable truth that he genuinely feels all is right with the world again.

—

“I can’t believe I’m even here right now and finally seeing this dump that stole my best friend with my own two eyes. I mean I got like eighty bucks to my name, little to no idea where I’ll stay, but I actually made it!” she hollered, playfully giving the blonde’s ass a painless smack. He reacted with a bashful jump and a laugh, struggling with her bags under pressure. “Can’t wait to see your car again ‘cause man I missed her. Old Martha still runnin’ smooth and pretty, I presume?”

Billy felt breathless as he set her luggage down to the pavement, reaching for his car keys to unlock the trunk before hauling them inside and slamming it closed. He stops to look back at her with a twinkle of mockery in his eye.

“So that’s what you named my car, huh? Martha?” he fact-checks, going over to the passengers side to open it for her, the chivalry he only abided by around her in particular coming back like it never left at all. Like they were still the same confused teenagers first meeting, getting into mischief just to busy their bland, empty agendas. She gives him a half-hearted shrug before explaining.

“Heard it’s good luck to name everything you own, amirite? Plus, you got no right making fun of that name. That’s my aunt’s name, ‘case you forgot stealing all her pot from her sock drawer and smoking it with me at school,” Y/N retorts with a finger pointed at him accusingly. The blonde behind the wheel let’s out a sarcastic ha ha at the memory, starting up the Camaro and backing out as the girl in the passenger’s side messes with the radio. The fond memories have flooded back almost uncontrollably; he can’t wait to make more, even if they only had tonight.

“In our defense that’s a shitty place to hide all that dope, alright? And uh, pretty sure that’s with boats. You name a boat and that gives you good luck. Not a car, you fuckin’ genius.”

Her face scrunches up in thought as if that’s the most mind-boggling thing she’s ever heard, and it ruins Billy with how fucking cluelessly perfect the facial expression is. He watches with intent as she snaps out of it in a hurry. “What you just said makes literally no sense, but I’ll ignore the ridicule and cut to the chase, Bilbo. What is it you’ve been up to without me or the beach? Gone insane yet?” she teased the last part in his ear, putting a hand on his right shoulder and giving it a squeeze. It takes Billy a moment to try and get used to how normal this really is, being touched by her, and he’d nearly forgotten that she’ll give any guy with a heartbeat the exact same treatment. Billy wasn’t an exception, and surely he wasn’t the first guy to get butterflies either.

With a clear of his throat, he throws back on his social mask for stability before shaking his head, the disbelief out in the open within his tone. “Are you fucking kidding, Smalls? ‘Course I did. What good is anywhere or anything when it doesn’t involve you or the goddamn beach?” Billy finished, finding his way onto the main road and putting the airport in his rear view. The driver thinks back two years prior and reminisced on all the adventures they had in Santa Monica before the inevitable happened. He fixed his hair absentmindedly (maybe even a little self-consciously) before reluctantly rambling on under his breath about what’s been ruined since he got taken away from paradise.

“Not a lot goes on ‘round here. Seriously. Place reaks like cowshit, haven’t met anyone worth my time. Max doesn’t seem to think so though, I guess. She’s even made more friends than me. Like... sure, I found this group of jackasses that worship me for knowin’ how to hold my booze, but I haven’t found anything like what we had. Not even close.” Billy swallows, looking back up to the rear view mirror like how he practiced on the way over. It isn’t the same, and he feels too vulnerable saying anything like that out loud with her sitting right fucking there. So he does what any man in the right mind would do, and reacts to his fear, his doubt. He backs down and changes the subject without looking in her direction to see her face. The boy faked a chuckle, an unconvincing one, then keeps his eyes on the road so he doesn’t fucking crash them.

“Tried to liven things up a little, but it’s so goddamn boring, y’know? So uh, anyway, that’s... yeah.”

It starts off sounding so pitiful, then it ends so fucking weak and pathetic. The blonde foolishly hoped and hoped, knowing he could do it, could put everything into English and say it. But he can’t. It gets stuck on his tongue, stuck like a gross aftertaste of something he can’t get rid of. It stings.

He feels his other leg not pressed on the gas physically twitch when the girl beside him puts a palm on his lap to soothe him of imaginary worries. Her eyes were practically scraping to get inside his soul and have it be her own place to call home when he merely glanced at her. It took an enormous amount of will power not giving in to the temptation, but he pulls it off by distracting himself with views of the dark road ahead.

“Yeah, also uh, my old man won’t know you came here for me. I made sure of it. We’ve got all night to catch up,” he ended on a high note, now finding himself grin at all the possibilities awaiting as the girl now has taken to copying him by eyeballing the lifeless scenery out the window that is Hawkins.

After a hasty moment, she hums to acknowledge him and follows it up with a soft, somewhat unsure murmur. “That’s good. Great, actually. I um, I got lots of shit to fill you in on, and I mean a lot, but... anyways, it’s not important. Fuck. Hey, there any places to eat ‘round here? I’m starving,” she finished with glee, deciding to ditch the mood-killing approach at telling him what had happened to her while he was gone.

The blonde hums as he threw a smile at the road, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in excitement, back in the groove. He had just overreacted, that’s all. Their evening didn’t have to depend on what she said back. He could tell her later on and be at peace whether or not she reciprocated his longing for more.

“Alright. Well uh, lucky for you, Smalls, I know just the right place for us. Get ready for the baddest burgers in this shit town, ‘kay?”

Y/N let out a snort after holding her breath a beat too long, shoving her partner’s shoulder before gluing her eyes to the road.

—

“... So then I’m running as fast as I possibly can to get outta there before this fat guy could catch me, he even threatened me with a goddamn gun. Surprisingly he was really fast, too, alright. Like — like The Flash fast. ‘Coulda almost beat ‘em too, but right after I’m rushing to hop this fence, I jump too high and lose my grip. The ground really knows how to whoop my ass,” Billy snorted as he incessantly raved about the shit pot he’d stirred. After trespassing private property not only on a school night, but also at four in the morning. “Oh, also landed right on the money maker,” he smirked, gesturing towards his face with a French fry covered in ketchup between his fingers. “I think I lost a tooth while I was at it, too.”

“Fucking A, Billy! Dude, to be fair, from the sound of it you really got what you deserved,” Y/N pointed out while marveling at his male idiocracy, a goofy scowl plastered on her face as she shook her head back and fourth. She dropped the napkin she’d crumbled up in her palms to her half-empty plate of a classic diner burger and the French fries that Billy had no shame in picking at. He nodded while looking like he was proud of the chaos he’d created, taking his partner’s Cherry-Vanilla Coke and slurping the remaining sip through the straw. He hadn’t had an appropriate moment to give telling her their situation another try, but he’s content with the comfortable familiarity of exchanging both horrific and grotesque stories in each other’s absence. It felt like slipping on an old pair of boots that still fit somehow, still felt good to wear and walk around in, and he wasn’t willing to unlace them or take them off quite yet.

“Yeah yeah, what goes around comes around. I know. Speaking of which, you uh, you got any news to tell me?” the boy asked suspiciously, recalling how their only topic of conversation all night had been solely regarding his whereabouts and only vague answers coming from her. “I know you weren’t up to any good either, Smalls. Pretty hard to deny, what with our reputations and all.” he grinned, pulling a nearly empty pack of Menthols and sticking one on his lip, signaling their waitress for the check with a hand gesture. Y/N’s face twists into something worrisome, brows knitted, lip bit, arms crossed like she wanted to disappear. She was hiding something.

The uneasiness doesn’t rest lightly on the boy’s shoulders at her expression, and thankfully their waitress has great timing and clears their table of their finished goods.

“Can we talk outside, maybe? Or, or just go— just go somewhere where we can —“

Billy scrambled to assure her that her wish was his command, breaking whatever unwelcome tension with a helpful hand on her shoulder. “Of course, Smalls. You don’t know where you’re staying tonight, right?”

A watery smile spreads on her small face, a slight shake of the head that says no, I’ve had no idea where the fuck to stay every night for months, dipshit.

“Look, I have a plan for you, okay? Got you money for a room at this motel not very far, I’ll take care of you.” he swore, unzipping his jacket and covering her back with it as the frosty air nipped their cheeks on the way outside. The moon glowed in the sky, acting like a night light for them as they approached Old Martha, cranking the heat in as soon as they were both safe inside.

The pair sit in silence, the boy unaware of what’s changed or made her stiffen up; the girl unaware of how she’ll confess something that only a select few know and have already judged.

“Now what— no, who the hell is it that made you this upset, huh?” he threatens to the unknown source of his best friend’s pain, already getting revved up to fly back home and settle this out with his fists. Their destinated motel only a mile away and seatbelts not even fastened.

“I’ve — I’ve been keeping something from you.”

Billy blinks stupidly and throws his hands off the steering wheel and in the air. Could this be it? Could it mean the same thing as him keeping something from her? Nothing is getting answered fast enough, and he’s so sick of waiting. “Okay? And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N chews her bottom lip and rests her elbow on the door, her palm now gathering the dramatic beads of sweat from her forehead. “It means I’ve got a reputation; you know, I know, the whole fucking population of Santa Monica knows, Billy! You don’t need to act dumb, okay, it isn’t cute anymore.”

The driver squints in utter bewilderment, finally pushing the brake with impatience, making them bounce forward at the sudden stop. The Camaro sits outside the motel as droplets of rain grow heavier and louder as it pecks on the windows. It could almost drown out the feeling of intensity in the small space.

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose like an irritated diva, pairing that with a seemingly apathetic eye roll. “I was only kidding back there about that shit. You know I don’t believe that nonsense about you... sleepin’ around or whatever, okay. I only believe you. I trust your word over those assholes and their tendency of spreading fucked up lies about any girl in school, ‘kay?”

Y/N felt on the brink of a drastic explosion, going as far as to open the window and sticking her head outside to feel the raindrops pool around her face, tickling her with its’ gentleness.

“Hey, get your head back in here. You’re gonna catch a cold, and then you’ll have to fly back home sick tomorrow, alright, so could we just cut the charade and talk like adults—” Billy’s reprimand was interrupted by Y/N’s surprising outburst.

“I don’t have a home anymore!” she screeched, yanking her head back inside and flipping her wet hair out of her face before crossing her arms stubbornly. “It was taken away from me. Got kicked out ‘cause of my reputation,” she trailed off as he turned his head to the side in concern mixed with confusion, his jaw wide enough to catch flies. Before spitting another useless question at her, he swallowed with unstoppable nerve and cautiously reached over to her door and roll the window back up.

“Smalls, I’m — I’m fucking sorry. So sorry. But right now all’s I wanna do is get you nice and dry. Cozy too, and in our own space with no one to bother us or... or even kick us out. I’m gonna get your bags, we’ll go fetch a room, and then continue this by then, okay?” he whispered, finding his fingers had gotten wet while delicately petting her damp locks. Her lips wiggled like she was gonna blow into tears any second, and he really hated the sight, but whoever was responsible in making her homeless was gonna be sorry they ever caused someone as close to Billy as she was so much pain.

The rain came down and soaked the blonde’s hair, color fading to a chestnut brown under the weather as he fumbled with his keys to get into the trunk as fast as possible. Her bags weren’t the lightest, but it must’ve been nearly all her belongings if she didn’t have a home anymore. They rested like rocks on his back and in his grasp as he gave Y/N the signal to hurry out as to not get any more drenched than her face had already become. Billy spits on the pavement before counting down from three on his fingers, and as soon as he got to one she was out and flailing in the rain with him, both eager to get warmth and shelter. Some giggles were even shared as they cringed feeling their clothes sticking to their bodies before finally making it inside.

The guy behind the counter wasn’t amused by their boisterous entrance, but they couldn’t find it in them to feel bad. After getting themselves a room key, they forced themselves to put a hault on their dispute for now, just like pressing the pause button on a TV remote; Billy rubbing her lower back in the elevator once he’d set her luggage down and Y/N leaning further into him as tears threatened to wilt out of her. Finding room 1408 thankfully wasn’t like a game of Where’s Waldo, and they’d both gotten comfortable quickly in the tidy space. The boy had set her things down as she fled to the restroom. He’d taken to counting all the shapes he could make out on the tacky wallpaper and got stopped at number fifty-eight. Y/N emerged from the bathroom much drier yet back in a similar state as before; frightened and uncomfortable. Taking action, he threw himself off the King sized bed and took her into his embrace.

“You’re safe with me, you do realize that, right?” he muttered, trying his hardest to keep it together like the broken girl in his arms. She trembled in a way that said she didn’t know she was safe, like she still felt wrong. In one swift movement, she shoved him backward and left him stumbling in ignorance and hurt, barely giving him a warning before she finally snapped.

“It’s true what those boys said about me, what I did with them. You would’ve known that by now if you had a goddamn brain instead of this... this giant heart of a puppy,” she cradled her head in guilt and shame for everything coming from her mouth, stepping back and avoiding his eyes all together. “I slept with the basketball team, the football team, even the fucking tennis club! You name it, I’ve fucked it. You know what’s crazy about this, other than the amount?” she asked rhetorically, her voice winding down to a broken whisper.

Billy feels his eyes well up and he doesn’t put energy into stopping it. There are veins bulging, flaming up in places he hadn’t even known he had. He recalls all the side eyed looks from the boys while he walked down the halls with her, when he’d ditch to smoke her aunt’s dope with her, or in class laughing with her. They weren’t ogling him because they thought they’d be a cute couple. They were laughing at him in silence because he was whipped for Santa Monica’s school skank.

“I don’t regret all of it; well, all but one. You, you remember Chris Hooker, he was your runner up? Chris fucking idolized you, Billy. He wanted to be like you so bad that... he thought one way of being like you was to get with me. And I let him after you left, I was so lonely that I’d do just about anything to cover up the shitstorm of losing you; and if that meant fucking this guy that always dressed like you and acted like you all the time— then so be it.” Y/N shrugged, trying to wipe the endless waterfall of tears as she watched Billy break too.

“You... you didn’t—“ he tried to deny, shaking his head and mimicking her by cradling his head in his hands as he walked in circles back and fourth, not believing anything he’s hearing. She sniffled and rubbed her nose with her sleeve before coming closer to him, looking him in the eye the first time since her confession begun.

“It happened, and I’ve never been this sorry about anything in my life, Billy. In fact, I even said sorry to him, ‘cause I couldn’t take care of it or even myself after he knocked me up and turned my life into this, this total hellhole—“

“You got kicked out because they found out,” Billy mumbles when he came to the realization, staring as if he were hypnotized by the painting of an angel hung up on the wall behind her. “They found out that you got pregnant, then you got rid of it... so they ended up punishing you.”

Y/N clung to him tighter before confirming with an uneasy nod, a sob escaping and tearing through her as she got red.

“I never named it, so I guess it didn’t bring good luck, remember?” she reminded him of their previous conversation when she first landed, stroking his arms up and down with tenderness. “You um, you missed a part of the story actually, a really important one.”

The blonde recoiled from his partner and scrubbed his arms in hysteria, feeling hopeless and weak and like all his doubt had fed to his brain was right. He wasn’t an exception. He wasn’t the good guy, he was just another guy going nuts for the same girl everybody else in their entire class ever did.

“Stop it! Stop hurting yourself, Billy, this is my fault. I should’ve told you sooner that—“

“What? What’s left to say now?”

“That I—“

”WHAT?” his fists were clenched and thick at his sides, the jealousy and the disgust overtaking him and fueling a fire that hadn’t started over night.

“That I love you!” she had shouted, both of them spiraling out of the devastating tornado of abandonment and lies, now joining together in the middle; mirroring their warm welcome at the airport just hours before. Billy’s fingers shoved her by her hips so that they were skin-to-skin as he finally went in for the kiss all the guys back home already knew but he himself had never gotten to experience. They were both gone, desperate for their touches and their actions to say everything they’d wanted to say. The apologies, the love, the hurt. She tasted lovely on his tongue, and he waited for the need to breathe to become nearly unbearable before even thinking of pulling away. Their mouths made a smacking sound as their lips left eachothers, making Billy let out a helpless, weak in the knees sounding moan.

“And to finish the missing part, um... I can’t keep kissing random strangers pretending that they’re you,” she whispers in his ear, bashfully coming back down from her tippy-toes right after giving a playful nibble to his ear and a warm kiss on the cheek. Billy thinks back to his alone time talking in the mirror, all the things he said and wrote down, practiced for this very moment. Like clockwork, he spouts the rehearsed lines out that felt like daggers holding inside.

“Smalls... since I’ve been gone, ah... all’s I’ve done is nearly nothing worth my time except, only except thinking of you when I feel like everything is a lot. And also like everything was never really enough. It’s like one of the only things I feel like has meaning to it for once. ‘Cause you get me, I get you. No one ever surprises me unless you do. And I fucking love you even more, Y/N, and I’d like to make you forget. Forget about those dicks, forget about your parents. You’re with me from here on out, you understand? Smalls?” he opens his eyes to see her doing that thing again, where she scrapes into his soul and nests inside, makes it a home for herself. It makes him melt in all the right and wrong ways imaginable.

“I understand.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Telling Valdo Marx that Jaskier's music might be better than his, resulting in smutty times

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Valdo x ReaderWord Count: 1,730Rating: ETaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection  a/n: I tried my best nonny. This is my first Valdo Marx smut piece and I kinda tried to do a Feral!Valdo thing here but I also really wanted to make sure he had his own Style of Smut. I dunno, this has been an attempt. Hope you like it and please know that @heroics-and-heartbreak is an aces Valdo content creator as is @the-novel-on-the-left if you’re left wanting by this one

“What did you just say?”

You looked up from your cup of ale, wiping away the foam from your upper lip as you met Valdo’s eyes. The usually bright, twinkling emerald eyes glowered at you darkly and you sighed.

“I said Jaskier is playing exceptionally well tonight,” you said defiantly, daring Valdo to challenge you on this with a look that would have turned away a wiser man. Valdo was many things, but wise wasn’t one of them.

“How can you call this prattle good, let alone exceptional?” he snarked.

“You don’t have to like someone to acknowledge their talent,” you argued.

“Oh, is there talent around here?” Valdo asked, making a big show of looking around the room while you glared at him, “Present company excluded, of course.”

This was a fight you’d had before. Jaskier was a longtime friend of yours and when you began seeing Valdo you had hoped the men might put aside their differences to some extent. There were some things even the deepest love could not make happen it seemed. You rose from the table and sent Valdo a parting shot.

“You’re just bitter because he’s a better bard than you are.”

You didn’t wait to see his reaction, turning swiftly on your heel and sending Jaskier a parting wave as you made your way to your room. You’d half expected Valdo to run after you but you were able to get inside and shut the door behind you. You’d just pulled off your boots, still fuming but a little bit regretful of the cheap shot you’d thrown, when the door flew open. His nimble fingers dug into his emerald silk cravat and tore it away, exposing the graceful length of his neck. He threw it to the ground and went to work on the tiny, intricate buttons of his doublet, bottle green eyes darkening with anger or lust or some exciting blend of both as he looked at you.

“So,” he said, “He’s a better bard than me, is he?”

You sighed, not in the mood for another fight.

“Ok, that was maybe a bit of an exaggeration-”

“Exaggeration?” Valdo echoed with a scoff, neatly folding the doublet and resting it on the little bureau before pulling off his boots.

“I’m not going to say that Jaskier isn’t a good bard, Valdo, so if you came here to try and get me to do it you may as well just leave now,” you said, turning around and angrily tugging at the laces of your dress. You half expected to hear the door open and slam shut but instead there was just the sound of fabric rustling and then footsteps padding across the wooden floor until you felt Valdo’s dexterous fingers take the laces from your hands and disrobe you with grace and efficiency. He turned you to face him, eyes scanning your body possessively before recapturing your gaze for a moment before yours fell to his lithe frame. He was lean and toned and brought to mind memories of nights where his agility had awed you. He licked his lips and drew your attention back to his eyes.

“I’m going to wash his name out of your mouth,” he growled darkly, “The only name on your lips tonight will be mine. I’m going to make you scream it, moan it, and whimper it before the night is through. I am going to use you so thoroughly that when you fall asleep there will be no thought in your head but me and my many, many talents.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, swallowing hard and trying to sound defiant and immovable though his words alone made you embarrassingly wet. He lowered a hand, roughly parting your legs and brushing against you deftly, pulling a strangled moan from your lips that made him smile smugly.

“Already so eager,” he teased, his voice a low purr against your ear as his lips brushed against your jawline. The dark curls of his hair tickled your neck and he slowly walked you back towards the bed. The back of your legs hit the frame and he nudged you back. You bounced as you landed and he threw himself down next to you, a quick, playful smile that turned wolfish as he crawled towards you.

“Since you have made yourself the arbiter of bardic talent, you’re going to sing for me tonight. The moment you stop singing, I stop too,” he said.

“Stop doing what?” you asked.

“Whatever I want,” he replied briskly, seizing you by the ankle and pulling you under him, lean body pressing against yours.

“I’m not a bard,” you argued.

“No, but you can still sing, can’t you love?” he kissed the question against your collar bones. His hand ran the length of your body, touching you everywhere but where you wanted him the most.

“Ok,” you said, hoping your agreement would lead to some satisfaction, “What should I sing?”

“Don’t care,” he replied, suddenly thinking better of it, afraid you’d choose one of Jaskier’s songs just to taunt him, “Sing me a bawdy tale about a naughty little bitch who thought it was fun to test her lover.”

He began to kiss his way down your body and you watched the slow progression, the way that he looked at your body as he kissed it, reverent even while enraged. He paused at your navel and looked up at you, the keen, forest hued eyes watching you expectantly as you remembered the game.

“Oh there w-ohh”

Your words melted immediately as Valdo rested his tongue flat against your mound. As promised, he pulled back and fixed you with an annoyed look, as irritated at being interrupted as you were at him moving back.

“Going to do better than that, love, or we’ll be here all night,” he teased. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, hoping that losing the image of him between your legs would help keep you focused on your song. You fared a bit better, letting him get so far as to stroke your length a few times with his agile tongue before your words bled away again. He stopped what he was doing but didn’t move this time, enjoying the way you tried to grind against his face, nose barely brushing your clit. You sang in fits and starts and he grew to enjoy the game as much as you hated it, your frustration satisfying the vengeful part of him who wanted you to suffer as he had when you’d expressed a preference for his rival. He kept you teetering on the edge of release, slowly circling your swollen, tender nub as he inserted two long, dexterous fingers that knew exactly where to probe.

“I can either sing for you or I can come for you but I can’t do both,” you spat out angrily after the fourth, agonizing edging.

“Oh, you’ll do both,” he growled, “You’ll sing my name loud enough for everyone in this fucking inn to know who’s making you feel this way.”

Before you could speak again he began to stroke you in earnest and you forced your moans into melodies, his name an aria on your tongue as you came for him. His own moans of satisfaction at your pleasure were muffled by the sound and before you’d finished the note he flipped you over and aligned his slender cock at your entrance.

“You sang so sweetly for me, my filthy little songbird. Something new, now. Something a little less bawdy and a little more… epic,” he suggested, teasing you with the head and leaning back out of reach as you tried to arch into him.

“Epic?” you echoed questioningly.

“Yes, perhaps an operetta? Show the people you’ve got the range,” his sentence ended in little grow that sent a tremor up your spine and he punctuated it with a swat before seizing a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers and opening you wider as he stared at you lewdly. You did as asked and even managed to keep the notes going as he entered you in one quick thrust. He fucked you in pace with the song you sang, following the ebbs and rises of the notes in a way that made you laugh at times and you could’ve sworn you heard him giggle as well though he tried to act stern, taking a handful of your hair and using it to pull your face back to look at him.

“Sing,” he commanded before releasing you, and you sang for him. You grew more adept at turning your cries into crescendos and whimpers into wordless riffing that he seemed to accept as long as there was a tune to it. His thrusts grew punishing, digging into you deeply and grazing the spot that would be your undoing. Your song began to crack, your song devolving into sounds a broken music box might make, but he didn’t ask for talent, just obedience. You began to whimper his name as you neared your release, a pleading sound made in a repetitive rhyme that was music to Valdo’s ears. You’d hoped that his name would be lyric enough and he showed you mercy, not stopping as you cried out his name the final time, surely notifying everyone around you outside and inside the inn what was happening and who was causing it. Valdo rode you through your climax into his own, leaning over to bite the back of your shoulder as he did, one final, possessive act for the night. He kissed the spot before pulling out of you and pulled you into his arms.

“Now,” he said, panting from exertion as he tried to regain his breath, “You were saying something about talented bards.”

You chuckled and raised your eyes to look into his once more, already starting to fall asleep as you planted a kiss on his lips.

“Valdo Marx, Bard of Cintra, is my most favorite, most talented music teacher and bard I have ever known. Unless saying the contrary will get me more of what just happened in which case…”

“Don’t push your luck,” he growled, kissing your fiercely and then pulled you against him so the last thing you heard before falling asleep was his heartbeat and the sound of his voice, humming a wordless tune.