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vminity21 · 4 years

Text

Promise Me | pjm

Pairing: Actor!Jimin X Actress!Reader, ot7 featured, friendshiptolovers!au

Word Count: 17, 280

Genre: fluff/soft/angst/smut

Warning(s): mega-angst, family rivalry, eventual smut, losing virginity, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, nipple play, mild language use Rated: 18+

Summary: You and Park Jimin, two best friends who grow up together, pursue each of your careers in acting. Even after a horrible misunderstanding which then leads to losing contact, the two of you never give up on your dreams. Nor, do you give up on each other.

Credit to: @suhdays for making such an awesome cover!

He relies on his elbow while he slides to lay on his side, beat up converse crossing at the ankles while the loose scrape of his jacket sounds when greeted by the hardwood floor; his cheek brushes your shin once he makes himself comfortable. Your arms are folded across the tops of your knees where you rest your chin, staring at him fondly as you wait for his cue to speak, "You know you can trust me," he flashes a full smile- eyes disappearing into crescents causing your heart to melt at his overwhelming beauty.

"I know, I just... It's not you, it's me," you say, the cliché line sounding believable coming from your lips. Looking towards his clasped hands in response, he nods,

"It's not you, it's me... I've said that plenty of times in my life,"

"So, you understand me," you muse with the raise of your eyebrows hoping your stare exuberates your flirty side. When he returns to peer up at you, his thick lips poise with a slight twitch as if he's conjuring up a reply,

"Come here," he tilts his head up while you maneuver yourself to reach him- lips lock in the most passionate mold, and when he moves to where he can easily pull you closer, his kiss almost makes you forget where you are. Your hand trails to tangle with his blonde strands, getting lost in the movement he makes while he leans back, pulling you with him as previously practiced-

CRASH!

Jumping at the ear-piercing sound of shattering glass, wide eyes stare at the culprit of your piggy bank that fell from the pedestal he happened to lean against for support. Gulping, coins and dollar bills sparsely decorate the floor with the jagged pieces, but none of that is the reason why your heart is pounding with intense fear. There, lying in the jumbled mess of a pile is a couple of ID cards to cover your real identity.

He stands to his feet slowly, taking careful steps toward the muddle.

"I- I can-" You begin, trying to gather an explanation- watching him shuffle up the cards when a façade of shock covers his expression.

"What- what are these?" Anger darkens his eyes with the subtle rise of his voice.

"I can- I can explain-" tears brim the moment he halts your words by holding out his hand.

"No. Don't. I think I've seen enough," he tosses the cards onto your bed before stomping toward the door. Jolting to your feet, you mirror panic,

"No, Sam, please! Wait, please!"

Chasing after him, he spins around, "We're done, Kylee," he removes your hand that happened to reach his shoulder, "Or is that even your real name?"

"CUT!" The director, Steve Aoki, calls and with accomplished smiles, you and Jimin turn to face the cast and crew, "Wonderful, wonderful! Absolutely astounding!" Steve applauds, congratulating the pair of you while the two of you step away from the set. "I know this movie will make it to the big screen if the two of you continue performing like that!"

"Thank you, Steve," Jimin slightly bows forward with a sweet grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He slips his arm around your waist with pride, "What can I say? I have a great co-star!"

"Ah, the chemistry!" Steve exclaims.

"Well, thank you to the both of you," you gleam with flattery, leaning into Jimin's side with the tint of a blush heating your cheeks, "I'm having a great time."

"We'll film more scenes with the two of you tomorrow. Right now, we need to film action scenes with the stunt doubles," Steve quickly kisses the side of your forehead before walking off, "Take five, everyone!" He shouts, clapping his hands to disperse the workers into a break.

"I must say, I'm really enjoying this movie with you, Chim," you compliment as he leads you to the refreshment table. Bottles of water sit in perfect rows in front of the snacks- cheese cubes and crackers tempting to relieve your growling stomach.

"I can say the same to you, [Y/Nickname]," Jimin reaches for two waters and hands one to you in which you take a few sips once you screw off the lid. As crazy as it sounds, Jimin has been your best friend for as long as you can remember.

Born to wealthy parents, a couple years after you came your sister. From the day you learned how to speak and understand the world around you, a dream was created that revolved around the career of acting. That's all you've ever wanted to do, and in elementary school, where you got to experience your first taste of this dream, you landed a role as Mrs. Scrooge in the Christmas play. Since none of the young boys tried out for the part, they changed the character to a woman the moment they discovered your talent. After your performance, you received numerous compliments that you were beyond grateful for, and since then you knew, acting was your definite calling. Sure, you had only been in fifth grade, but you loved being on the stage. It gave you a new perspective of every character you played- a new way of seeing life played out before you behind someone else's eyes. The stage – you were in your comfort zone. There, you felt home.

You had spoken to your parents about your dream to find that they were thrilled about your hope in acting. Your mom had warned you though that you needed to be patient; landing a show or movie role could be an incredibly hard task. Promising to be patient, like any kid would have, you kept your eyes peeled for any announcement of an audition. First, you started small- your mom had found auditions for commercials, and that was when you officially began the acting business. Three commercials down, and then you attempted in auditioning for TV shows which you hadn't had much success, and you wore the face of a broken-hearted girl. You figured you would never be good enough for the big screen with how everything was panning out, yet one day, auditions were being held in your city for a romantic comedy that was going to be filmed in the same spot also. A young girl was needed that would resemble the main actress in order to accomplish flashback scenes. Of course, you begged your mother to take you once you received the news.

Sitting in the waiting area the day of, your mother had driven you and your sister all the way to the location, and it felt like days when in all reality it had been three hours before your turn was called. The audition line was packed, and your sister had been growing anxious, wanting food or water, anything that would keep her entertained. Your mom comforted her by handing her a notebook and a pen from her purse, "Here baby, draw on this, okay?"

You remembered seeing a girl similar in age to you exit into the lobby with a confident smile. Your heart rammed within your chest as your sweaty palms rubbed against your jeans. Each child had been handed a script to study in the time leading up to this moment you were anxious to begin. C'mon... You can do this. Your eyes shot up in the direction of where a door opened, "Next!" A lady with long, dark hair smiled at you kindly when she caught your timid eyes, and out of habit, something you even did at doctor visits, you turned to your mother as if to ask for permission to follow what seemed to be a genuine woman.

"Go on," your mom said softly, "I believe in you."

Comfort eased your countenance and you left with a smile in determination of needing to nail this audition. If your parents, believed in you, then you knew that you could do it. The squeak of the chair sounded the moment you rose to your feet soon finding yourself inside the audition room where the only thing you could hear was the light thudding of your heartbeat. A red cloth adorned the table before you, where four judges remained seated. One male with gray hair chewed on the back of his pencil before looking up at you behind thick-rimmed glasses.

"How are you today, Miss-" He looked over at a clipboard lying in front of the woman who led you to the audition room, "[Y/N]?"

"I'm good, how are you, sir?" You put on your best smile with pure genuine though your hands quivered at your sides.

"Good," he sounded cheery for that second, "Okay, Mrs. Yeun is going to read the lines which will be spoken by the character, Will." He gestured briefly to the left in introduction of a lady holding a clipboard, "And after she finishes her lines, that's when you'll obviously speak. Start your first line when you're ready,"

Looking back, you're sure he must have repeated himself a million times that day with each audition, yet you still felt as though you were the only soul surrounded by strangers though many mirrored the same feeling. Inhaling deeply, you closed your eyes while your fingers curled into your palms- releasing the moment you exhaled- gradually opening your eyes once you imagined yourself as the character you were supposed to be.

"Will!" You exclaimed whilst envisioning the highlighted lines you studied thoroughly- waving your arms frantically in the air as if to gain the fiction boy's attention, "Will! I- I found it! I found the treasure!"

"You did?" Though the voice of a woman read the part, you still pretended to see a messy haired boy with a galaxy of life behind his almond eyes while he rushed to see what you claimed you had found, "By golly, you did!"

The man then wanted you to read more of a serious scene between your character, Rose, and Will. Trying to think of sad things to keep your expression gloomy, forced tears welled within your eyes just enough to make your character compelling which resulted in applauding judges bidding a slew of congratulations after jotting down a few notes.

"We'll reach out if you make callbacks," the man nodded once and that's all it took before you ran out of the room with a smile from ear to ear. It took only a few days before you received a call back in which you were able to audition a second time but in front of the actual director of the film. You returned to Rose, the character you had grown to love already. This time, it took weeks before you had a callback, ending in nights of nervous tears that maybe your dreams wouldn't come true after all- your parents reassured you despite the inner angst of wondering the same as you, and told you not to give up no matter what the circumstances.

It was the call that changed your life forever. Dancing in the kitchen alongside your mother who was stirring the batter for some cupcakes, you remember as though it was only yesterday, small fingers gripping the device before greeting the person on the other end.

"Is this [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N]?"

Your mom mouthed 'who is it?' when she caught the way your lips had parted in confusion at the male voice you couldn't recognize on the spot, but you answered, "Yes, sir," anyway. It was the screaming in excitement that nearly knocked the bowl out of your mother's hands when you heard the man confirm the hope you've so desperately held onto,

"Well, [Y/N]! I am thrilled to say that you made the part of Rose!"

Arrangements were then made- the company in charge of the movie rented a home for your family to stay in while the movie was being filmed, and considering the duration of how long a movie can be to make, your mother began to homeschool you to keep you from falling behind. On your first day of work, the cast members had gotten together to review the script. Your mother was hesitant to drop you off at first without her being by your side, but with the assurance from the director of your safety, she reluctantly agreed to let you go. Teary-eyed from the anxious feeling pounding in your chest, you walked into the room where a table full of adults greeted you along with two teenagers scrunched next to three empty seats. Not one soul seemed close to your age just yet, but you were politely introduced to your fellow castmates which relieved you enough to promise yourself everything would be okay.

"Hi, you must be Ye-jin!" The voice of a young boy rattled behind you causing you to gasp softly before whirling around to face your intruder. Dark hair swooped across his forehead where almond eyes presented eager, brown irises that beamed with kindness; his wrinkled light blue t-shirt was loose on his tiny frame as well as his jeans, and he was not much taller than you from what you observed.

"Oh no, sweetie!" The surrounding table erupted in frilly laughter, "I'm Son Ye-jin!" The most lovely woman you had ever seen gushed at his widening smile.

"Oh! Well, I'm Jimin! Park Jimin!"

"Well, the two of you take a seat. The director will be here any minute," a handsome man nestled beside Ye-jin gestured toward the empty seats you and Jimin waltzed to occupy. A few minutes of chatter filled the room while your eyes scanned the scene before as any child would do when uncertain of what would be happening next, but that's when a poke on your shoulder disrupted your stares,

"What's your name?" Jimin asked the second your eyes timorously moved to meet his.

"[Y/F/N]. [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N]," You replied, "And you're Jimin,"

"Yes! I play Will! You must play Rose,"

"I do!"

The director and producers filed into the room before any more conversation could be continued, and for the next hour, the plot of the movie was further explained, though now, being an adult, looking back, you understand the synopsis much more than when you were ten years old first hearing it. The main characters discovered a treasure when they were children, unraveling secrets that could be worth a fortune. When the couple became adults, though had lost touch throughout the years, they never forgot about the treasure and the two individually set out to find it yet again. Unexpectedly, they bumped into each other and a love/hate relationship ensued until they found what they were looking for.

You and Jimin started filming different scenes together over the next five months after the script had been explained and reviewed. The pair of you became inseparable, growing closer with each scene finished. There was never a day that went by where you hadn't begged your parents to let him come over just for the two of you to practice your lines for whatever scheduled time for filming was planned next. Your father would bring home ice cream whenever he got off work to surprise you, your sister as well as your newfound friend, and you will never forget Jimin's melted chocolate smile or the way the ice cream would drip from his chin onto whichever shirt he'd claim was his favorite. Throwing a fit of giggles, he would chase you around the yard until he'd catch you- tickling your tummy until you took your outburst back. He also loved drawing with your sister, something he wasn't very good at, but he liked giving her company to prevent her from ever feeling left out.

Whenever the cast and crew had days off, Jimin would return to his hometown and you never could shake the loneliness you endured without him around. Though your sister enjoyed drawing or watching a movie, you more so preferred being outdoors, or practicing your lines which had been a daily chore since you became a part of this movie project, and of course, when Jimin would return, the pair of you would be driven to set to get back to work.

One particular scene, one you will never let be forgotten in your heart, is a moment where Will and Rose made an oath to be best friends forever. You and Jimin were directed to a swing set where the two of you took your seats, slightly swaying forward while the cameramen stood where assigned. Powder was dusted upon you and Jimin's faces to finalize everything before the yell of, "Action!" was voiced.

"You know, Rose?" Jimin became Will almost instantly, a talent not many ten-year-old children can perfect, but from what you remember, he had and has continued to blow minds away even from the beginning of his career. His expression was serious while his gaze remained on you as practiced. "I need you to promise me something,"

Looking at your black slippers, you noticed the swings were edging simultaneously, but you kept your focus solely on the words you were about to speak, "What is it, Will?" You tried to pull off your best curious face.

"I mean promise, even if you get tired of playing checkers with me,"

"Yes," you urged.

"And, if you get tired of playing tag even though you're always 'it,'"

"Yes," you dragged the word length in attempt to feign impatience.

"I mean you have to really promise me,"

"Okay, Will! I really, really promise," the wind calmed just enough to where your hair stopped tickling the sides of your face. Jimin hopped off the swing while his footsteps paused to face you completely. Even though you both were in acting mode, there was something serious behind his umber eyes that only you could see. One of the cameramen moved to film the side angles of you and Jimin's faces in order to capture the scene the way it had been imagined. Sometimes, with the camera being so close, it was hard to ignore, but at that moment, you were too absorbed with your character and Jimin's eyes to even glimpse in the camera's direction.

"Promise me that no matter what, we'll be best friends forever," the blurred sight of Jimin's pinky finger carefully raised in your line of vision, and for dramatic effect, you were told to count to three before your cue to say your line,

"I promise," you curled your pinky and locked it with Jimin's while a shy smile became present upon your lips, "Best friends forever."

"CUT! That's a wrap!" The director had said, but you vaguely remember that. All you had on your mind was the moment you and Jimin had shared. Though your lines had been written from a script, the two of you meant every word. That's why the scene had seemed so believable because there was truth in it.

Jimin was your best friend since that very day, and you pursued your dreams and have landed roles in plenty of hit movies since moving back to your hometown seven years ago. You're now a pretty well-known actress, but others find you humble in the fact that you never seem to show it off nor let the fame get to your head. Being seen in public has become one of caution, yet you adore every fan that comes your way asking for an autograph or a picture just so the memory of meeting you can be burned into their hearts forever.

Your dad, after your first movie, was transferred to officially work at a better job that happened to be in the same city that Jimin and his family lived in, which prompted your family to move being your mom as well as his became very good friends. You attended school with him at this point which he guided you due to you had been growing used to homeschool since your first movie. It was safe at the time to roam the halls of school- you and Jimin never became really famous, but your popularity gained with the pupils once joined the drama club resulting in auditioning for every musical or play the school had to offer. So, did your partner in crime, Park Jimin.

"You're doing it again," you snap back to the present with a sharp shaking of your head to dissolve the thoughts now scattering into your subconscious. Eyes clearing, you realize you've been zoned out for quite some time considering the subtle crease of worry tinged within Jimin's gaze.

"Sorry, Chim. I'm kinda-"

"Dazed," he finishes your sentence- his pink lips pressing into a tease of a smile.

"You know me so well,"

"I do," he winks taking a sip of his water bottle- swishing it around before swallowing, "Want to go out tonight? My schedule's clear for once,"

With busy lives of movies, sponsorships, premiers, cocktail parties, and anything revolving around this world of being on the go, it's hard to truly find the time to spend together which is something you've forced yourself to accept. But, miraculously, tilting your head, you comb back through your memory to realize you are, indeed, free this evening, "I would really like that, Chim. Thanks," you smile, excited to spend time by his side without cameras rolling in both your faces.

"No problem," he slips his hand in yours, carefully scanning behind you to confirm that not one person is watching. His warm fingers intertwine with yours while he leans closer, plush lips nearly tickling your temple, "Besides, I miss spending time with you," he whispers, you repressing the obvious tingles spreading across your skin- you turn in the direction of where the exit is visible, him following suit though hands remain locked.

"You're spending time with me now," you tease.

"You know what I mean," he rolls his eyes, yet his smile remains so wide, you feel the elevation of your heart flying. You love his smile, everything about him makes your head spin into a dizzy world of happiness. He's one of the biggest heartthrobs in the world; girls go crazy with his presence being in the same room as them; and, with many knowing him and his six best friends like the Bible, they don't really know Jimin like you do. It's the same for you, too. You love your fans more than life; you love reaching out to them on social media- signing at cons- meeting them in public when recognized and hearing the endless compliments on how wonderful you did in whatever movie has been released where you're the star of the plot. But as many times as he's said it, Jimin will always be your number one fan.

The fan who knows you.

Starring alongside him in the recent movie the pair of you have been working on was intimidating at first. You're not sure on how the press will react, or fans, or... the world. Jimin landed the role of Sam and nearly begged you to try out for Kylee who would in due course be the love interest for Jimin's character.

"Please! I'm begging you! You'll love it! It has action in it!" He nodded quickly while a ginormous smile with the shimmering pearl of his teeth nearly blinded you- his hands clasped together beneath his chin before he popped up and down in desperation, "Steve Aoki is the director and when I mentioned you to play the female lead, he freaked! He agreed that you should do it! C'mon [Y/N], please! You'd be brilliant!"

"Is this another excuse for you to kiss me again-"

"So, what if it is," Jimin's hands unlatched, "Are you complaining?"

Though it was merely a tease, your chest heated with a deep shade of red- your head shaking incredulously as you placed your palms upon your hips. You dragged on about another minute with skeptical eyes before lifting your hands in defeat, "Okay, I'll do it,"

"YES! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Jimin grasped you in his arms while he spun you around- laughter being the only sound filling the space of his apartment. When you auditioned, you landed the role on the spot which led to Jimin whisking you into the air out of a manner of rejoicing. Your family cheered you on as well, proud of all your successes in the career you've accomplished. After skimming through the script for Kylee, you called one of your good friends, Maeve, thrilled about your new job. Maeve had played your best friend in a movie about five years prior, when you were nineteen, resulting in the two of you becoming real friends instantly.

"You already know I'm going to be front row when it's finally released," she said. The plot is about a young girl, Kylee, whose parents are spies and so is she. But a fatal accident happens that causes her family to go into hiding, and one boy's father had to pay the price. Jimin's character, Sam, is the son and had seen the face of Kylee's father and figured out the last name he had used when his mission had turned into a mistake. But Sam doesn't realize who Kylee is until he sees the ID cards in her bedroom- which is the scene you and Jimin had officially filmed nearly twenty minutes ago.

The conversation with Maeve then turned into how things had been going for her- how her boyfriend wouldn't take the hint that she wanted him to propose to her, "I don't understand why he's so blind! Like, do you love me or do you not? It isn't that hard,"

"Ah, boys," you snickered, "Shame, shame, shame,"

"Speaking of shame. Don't you have to kiss your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Mae. It's just for the movie," your words came off nonchalant despite the nervous tension that traveled throughout your body, and there were some things you haven't found the courage to admit to Maeve just yet. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time you and Jimin kissed.

Daydream grinning along with the squint of your hazy eyes becomes apparent while the memory leaves you.

"What?" Jimin chuckles, turning to face you fully once the exit stands between your frames and the outside world. Your heart skips a beat from the way his beautiful smile stares down at you, and deep down, you wish you can tell him that, but the pair of you have been friends for so long, you're uncertain if making these feelings known is a good idea. Despite everything the pair of you have been through, you can't help but wonder if a relationship will bring you closer, or just tear your hearts completely apart. And, even now, years later, you're not sure if you can handle losing Jimin again.

"Nothing," you reply tenderly, eyes checking to examine his worn-out converse he has had since high school, "Just admiring your... fancy footwear,"

"Hah!" He laughs once, laying his head back, "I already told you, I'm going shopping today. Besides, I need a new outfit tonight, so wear something pretty," he pulls you in for a friendly hug, rubbing his free hand slightly on your back, each of you still holding your water bottles, yet you maneuver enough to nuzzle your nose into his chest.

"Since when do you care about what I wear?" Your chin moves to plop upon his chest while your eyes peer up at him with the arch of an eyebrow, pulling your lips into a goofy, tight grin.

"I don't," Jimin chortles, "But I know you do," it's the way he brings the tip of his fingers to your forehead tickling your skin to move a strand of hair so he can see your eyes clearly, "You look pretty in anything,"

If your heart isn't already combusting enough, it takes everything in you not to kiss him right then and there, and with a small huff in frustration, you pull your arms from his frame to then rest by your sides. "Alright then... pajamas it is,"

"See you later, [Y/Nickname]," Jimin tries to say between laughs, leaning forward to press a small kiss to your cheek. The old nickname makes you giggle as you watch him step beyond the exit. Memories from high school present themselves almost immediately gracing the strange feeling of being sixteen again in your Junior year and auditioning for the spring musical where you and Jimin had landed the lead roles. Jung Hoseok, a mutual friend the pair of you gained, congratulated you both with a huge smile many knew him for. You played a fairy who happened to be in love with a human prince and of course, you and Jimin not only had to sing but had to dance, too, which led to Hoseok practicing dance moves with you two in effort to help.

Overjoyed was an understatement though dancing had always been something to hold you back. Jimin is a phenomenal dancer- raw talent to the point he makes it look easy with the way he poises his body so effortlessly upon the stage- swinging his limbs to the beat of the music, emotion etched on every inch of his face. You remember the endless pressure that seeped into your skin building anxious fingers that clasped tightly together when you were listening to the script Mrs. Lee had written.

Saying quick goodbyes to your castmates, the reminiscent disappears for a fractioned moment while you gather your items before sprinting to the limo where your driver, Stan, awaits you. Shouts of hundreds of fans boom instantaneously at the appearance of you leaving the set. Security surrounds the area in case of any danger, and though you reach to open the door, you turn to wave with the best Red Carpet smile you can muster- blowing a kiss to add to your appreciation.

The limo holds a haven you've grown to adore since your fame took off. Shutting the door, you slide to rest your head against the tinted window, politely greeting Stan before your eyelids flutter for the crave of sleep.

Jimin came over countless times just to practice dance steps; every now and then, Hoseok joining, despite the chagrin that haunted the crippling blushes dawning your cheeks. For the last musical number, the Grand finale, Jimin had to lift you in the air by the waist with you posing your limbs exactly how Mrs. Lee demanded leading Jimin to spin you around during the growing intensity of the belting harmonies before returning you to your feet. It hadn't been easy- something you'd grown to learn especially with the helpless moments of him firmly gripping your waist right when you'd jump sending the two of you tumbling onto the ground in bouts of breathless laughter. After weeks of attempting this one lift you couldn't seem to perfect, your parents happened to be out of town one evening for taking your sister to an art gallery about an hour's drive away. Your mother had been a tad iffy with leaving you and Jimin alone, but you assured her that it would be fine- just because he's a male didn't mean that she couldn't trust the pair of you to behave being you two had simply been friends for years, and nothing more.

Once your family left, Jimin arrived, setting the music in preparation for the mini rehearsal you'd been dreading for the thousandth time.

"Okay," you exhaled, carefully placing your hands upon his shoulders, "Now, lift me," Jimin obeyed, hoisting you as high as he could with a swift grunt escaping his pressed lips. His fingers dug into your sides unintentionally, and before you realized you'd closed your eyes, excitement showed in the widening of your smile- he was holding you up! Finally, longer than ten seconds you remained there,

"I. Got. You," Jimin said between clenched teeth, until suddenly, his arms shuddered beneath you ensuing the shape of an "oh" that formed on your mouth.

"GAH!"

Jimin fell backward onto the couch- your side bouncing off the cushion for your gluteal muscles to meet the wooden floor. Stunned, you'd never seen Jimin's eyes so enlarged, but before you could gather your bearings, you blew at loose hairs that were static over your eyes,

"Ouch."

"HAH!" Jimin let out a high-pitched, one-syllable laugh, already covering his mouth with both of his hands to stifle the chuckling, but it was no use. Clapping a few times, he buried his shoulder into the couch while a breathy snicker escaped your side smile. Tears flooded your eyes from the hysteria of the moment- springing to your feet to then fixing your wrinkled shirt.

"Okay, okay," you breathed, trying to resume composure just enough to stop giggling at yourself, "Let's do this one more time! Chop chop!" Hitting your hands together like how Mrs. Lee tended to do to receive her pupils' attention, Jimin pranced to plant his feet in front of you, repositioning his hands on your waist, "Wait," you paused, concern abruptly covering his eyes while he waited for you to speak, swallowing, you began, "Chim Chim, I need you to promise me something," Lips in a firm line, you held his gaze. It was hard to be serious at times with your best friend, but for right now, you rejected from breaking.

"Anything," he nodded once, searching your stare, lips parted, and realizing how close he was sparked a strange desire that you never wanted to reveal before.

"But you have to really, really promise me,"

When a knowing smirk twitched on his lips, his eyes now held the memory that you were trying to remind him of, "Okay,"

"Even," you continued, "If I love beef bulgogi a little more than I probably should. And-" you paused for effect.

"Go on,"

"Even if you laugh like a maniac and I can't take it," teasing had always been something you both loved to do, and bowing his head with more laughter, he returned even closer than before- his warm breath brushing your cheek.

"Alright, alright! I promise! I really, really promise,"

Eyes still locked, you slowly raised your pinky finger up to him, investigating his expression letting nothing but the sound of the starting air condition fill the space,

"Don't. Drop. Me,"

A soft chuckle enhanced his smile causing a pitter patter beneath your chest, while you joined him. He brought the back of his hand to his mouth- something that he does when he's really tickled, and the sight of it made your heart swell in ways you hardly understood. How could someone have such a strong effect on you?

"First off, I prefer Kimchi stew,"

"Oh, you. Ham!"

Shaking his head in amusement, Jimin reached for your hand, hooking his petite pinky finger around yours to conceal the promise you had forced him to make, "I promise I won't drop you this time," he twirled you once like a gentleman, placing his hands back on your waist once you faced him.

"1, 2, 3!" Jimin, with all his might, boosted you into the air, immediately spinning you around. Now think ballet, you reminded yourself, holding your arms with elegancy. After four twirls, Jimin effortlessly set you down and overwhelmed with pure exhilaration, you couldn't refrain from rejoicing, "We- we did it! Jimin, we did it!"

Right then, you kissed him. Cupped his cheeks into your palms and pecked his lips. You hadn't been thinking entirely straight, but it all happened so fast that it took a second for you to comprehend. Hushed. Silence engrossed the room to the point that your heart throbbed in your temples mingled with the growing heat on your reddened skin- perspiration clammed your palms, yet the only thing frightening your state was the attempt on not panicking though you knew deep within your soul that you'd never regret it. Gulping, your eyes fell to the slow fall and rise of Jimin's chest- his gray shirt showing the iridescent silver pendant you gifted him for his past birthday staring right back at you.

You just kissed your best friend.

Jimin stood there, questions swarming full circle within your mind; feeling distraught, your lips pressed together to prevent the tears burning your nose. You remember figuring that he was angry with you, hence why he couldn't invoke any words to speak. But, unexpectedly, gentle fingertips lifted your chin, your eyebrows furrowed in surprise, but that's when your eyes met as if meeting for the first time, the innocence of the moment not once lost while you anticipated the sight of his nervous expression lowering to yours. You held your breath, eyes closing, every inch of the world disappearing. It was just you and him as it'd always been.

He kissed you. He kissed you right back.

With shivering arms, you wrapped them tightly behind his neck while he moved to encase you closer to him, bodies pressed into a blanket of warmth, you never wanted to uncover from. Feelings you had denied time and time again were showing in that kiss with Jimin- a surreal image you never dreamed you would experience, yet here he was, wrapped in your arms- lips moving to relock with yours so lovingly that your mind was rotating. Nothing could compare to the soaring of your heart, especially sharing something so passionate with someone you had grown to love so much, and this new feeling, one you'd never quite endured ignited a curiosity you couldn't withhold any longer.

The kiss grew aggressive, breaths increasing while dazed eyes remained shut, and though track of time had been misplaced, you no longer cared. Hands pressed against Jimin's chest, he gradually stepped backward until the back of his calves greeted the sofa- breaking the kiss, he swallowed anxiously, eyes never leaving yours- collapsing onto the couch before you propped either leg beside him in a perfect straddle. Snatching his kiss rapidly, your palms held his face while he finicked with where to place his eager hands, gliding up your back in awe of how beautiful you were to him.

You left him completely and utterly breathless, and you wanted this moment to last forever.

Everything had been going perfectly until your parents walked in-

SLAM!

The loud sound of the car door jolts you awake as you blink through the mild darkness. Previous memories fade for now, swiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand before thanking Stan for the ride. The white mansion stands tall beyond the gate where you punch in a code to then proceed onto the property. It appears your mother is not home momentarily, where as your sister and father are visiting an art show in another town, giving you time to prepare for whatever Jimin has in store for you later this evening.

There's a feeling of relief when kicking off your shoes, parading up the spiral staircase toward your closet that waits for your attention. Sifting through the rack of dresses, you close your eyes to randomly select from a hanger in a mechanism to prevent you from being in disappointment; yet, you find your shoulders dramatically dropping when you peek to see what is now hanging from your hand. You're uncertain of why you feel the need to judge every article of clothing you own, and you figure it has to do with impressing a guy, but you are aware that Jimin will accept you for who you are no matter what, so why are you so worried?

You love him- you wince, because that's something you are still struggling with confessing even though it has been blatantly clear since you were sixteen years old that you are wholeheartedly and irrevocably in love with Park Jimin. And, that never changed even years after losing him.

You remember that night like it was yesterday, the very first time you and Jimin kissed. Caught in the moment of what the pair of you secretly dreamed of with no recollection of how much time had passed. No bad intentions were going to be followed through, honestly no other thought from kissing him was even considered for you; all you cared about was how you never wanted him to leave.

But, your mother, unfortunately, assumed the worst.

There wasn't even a chance for you to stop what had already begun, it was too late- your parents walked right into the sight of you lip locked with your best friend, prompting you to immediately jump off him. The gesture was so quick that a slight headache thudded, and all that was flooding your widened gaze was your mother's horrified expression. She happened to be the first to enter the door while your father and sister lagged, luckily missing the already humiliating scene that nobody would ever want their parents to see. With gritted teeth, your mother's icy glower said enough, but she still voiced for Jimin to leave. Him flashing you an apologetic look while he stumbled to gather his things. Your father had no idea of what was happening until he heard your mother shouting at you for over an hour.

"I thought I could trust you!" Your mother jabbed a finger at you, pacing back and forth in front of you while you wailed into your pillows. "I can't believe you betrayed my trust!"

"I've already told you I was so-sorry-" You choked, wishing nothing more for this feud to end, begging the universe to turn back time, so you could have anticipated of when your family would have returned home- saving you and Jimin from this shame.

"What if we had run an hour late, huh!? For God's sake, [Y/N], you're only sixteen!"

"Mom! It-It wasn't like that!"

"Well, it sure looked like it!" Tears brimmed her eyes, because her heart was just as torn as yours, battling with what she should do as a parent, but also inwardly understanding what it was like to experiment in falling for someone at a young age. Something she hadn't really shared with her children. She had left the room for quite some time, trails remaining damp upon your cheeks before your mother returned with firmly crossed arms.

"Mom, I promise, it wasn't my intention," your voice broke, trying to gather whatever explanation you could, but she stopped you.

"I'm sure it wasn't, but I talked to your father and we came to an agreement. You will finish out the school year here, but once it's over, we're moving back home."

It was like your world shattered all at once in so many different directions, and there was no way to describe the abrupt halt of your heart mirroring in the way your eyes expanded in sheer dismay. "No! No, no, no- Mom, what about Jimin!? I can't just leave him!" The pain etched in your cries haunted your mother more than you'd ever know, but at the time she was doing what she assumed was the right decision.

"That's the point, [Y/N]. You're not allowed to see Jimin, speak to him, or even think about trying to see him. I've already spoken to his mother,"

"But- but what about the play?" You panicked, desperation clinging within your words, not wanting to process what was just demanded of you.

"I don't know. Right now, I'm too upset to decide."

It was the worst night of your life. One thing you never expected throughout your friendship with the one person who mattered most to you, was losing Jimin, especially knowing that once school ended, you would move back to your hometown, far away out of his reach. Your cellphone was already locked in your parent's room, and any form of technology, you would no longer be in possession of if your mother could help it. Bawling uncontrollably, you cursed fate for taking away what could have been.

The spring musical was the only time you and Jimin were able to truly see each other amongst rehearsals; and the night the play began, the pair of you performed with all you had, trying to mask the hurting as if it hadn't existed, portraying as though all was well when really your world was falling apart. Even when the evil fairy sprinkled dark magic upon the Prince's Kingdom, Mrs. Lee flew her fingers speedily along the piano enhancing the volume, imaging the chaos felt beneath your chest. The Prince and evil fairy battled it out until the enemy was defeated, the piano softening to a more pleasant sound that eased you enough to force your face into a loving grin.

The cast crowded around the both of you, but you hadn't noticed, because the only person you longed for, getting lost in his shining eyes was Park Jimin's. "Fairy, my love, listen to the sound of my voice," he bowed, reaching his hand toward you- hands collided tenderly, "Whether ye stay or whether ye go, you have a choice." You yearned for it to be real, that you had a choice- that you could stay with him. Stay with him there in this city where the two of you could remain best friends and possibly become even more. "Just promise me, as each day passes, that ye will never forget thy love or my Kingdom as long as ye live." You swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting tears at the finishing of Jimin's final line.

"My prince, in every dream I dream, I choose thee," though not within the script, Mrs. Lee always preached improvisation, and lightly, you touched his cheek, him flickering his stare between yours whilst leaning into your palm, the Kingdom rejoicing when Jimin pulled you into a crushing hug. The faint smell of his cologne met your nostrils causing you to memorize this moment as best as you could, so you'd remember everything about him. His touch, his hold, his smell, his smile. Anything you could take with you in hopes of getting to see him again one day.

When the intro of the duet is keyed from the piano, hand in hand, you and Jimin faced the audience, smiles as heart stopping as could be, belting harmony from beginning to end, both capturing the audience with every word. Blended voices were breathtaking when the cast joined in, finalizing the night with dancing eyes and goosebumps across the theater, and even more applause when Jimin effortlessly succeeded in the originally dreaded lift where he spun you in the air, returning to plant your feet upon the stage. While the crowd stood to their feet in an ovation, the cast had you and Jimin hidden enough, and although time was ticking, Jimin hadn't cared. His palms cupped your cheeks while you tried to read his hurried eyes, the tip of his nose brushing yours before he captured your quivering lips. The kiss was soft. So soft, and when it ended, he whispered through the loud whistles of the audience to where only you could hear, "I love you," he breathed.

"I love you," tears fell from your cheeks, and he gripped your hand as soon as the cast dispersed into a line, uncovering the pair of you as rehearsed, leading to everyone bowing while the clapping continued to reverberate throughout the building. Although, beyond proud to be a part of such a successful production, nothing could take away the pain hounding your heart when your hand had to ghost Jimin's to find your parents. Your mother refused to let you out of her sight, and whether your parents were proud of your performance or not, you never knew, because not a single member spoke on the way home. Instead your mind replayed the secret kiss Jimin gave you over and over to the point it welcomed you in your dreams. It was hard not to cry when you had awoken, eventually breaking into a fit of sobs wishing Jimin had been there to hold you.

Depression was evident in your demeanor, and there was nothing anyone could have done to 'fix' you, or the situation you felt so hopelessly in bondage by. When the last day of school arrived, it had been the worst, and you and the person your heart belonged to had not spoken in months. Times where he would glimpse your way in drama class, you just couldn't bring yourself to face him, because it hurt way too much to accept the reality that you were leaving. You figured his mother informed him of your family moving back, especially since he never seemed to give up on trying to get you to at least look at him.

That last day of class, you cuddled your music binder to your chest, backpack straps hanging loosely from your shoulders, and you strolled upon the sidewalk to wait for your father to come pick you up. It was a sudden moment, when you curiously turned to lock eyes distantly with your best friend. You both stared, yet the way your heart sank to the floor, all you wanted more than anything was to run to him, embrace him in all entirety, kiss him for what you presumed would be the last time, and savor the moments you would have had with him. But, you couldn't, and you didn't; instead, you mouthed three words that you meant with all your soul, 'I love you.' Jimin bit at the corner of his mouth as fresh tears pooled- he looked down momentarily as if destiny had betrayed him before returning his eyes to yours, 'I love you, too.' As if it could have been anymore of an opportune time, your father arrived right then to pick you up, and in fear that he had seen Jimin, your head whirled to look back where your best friend had been to see he was gone, prompting a painful, long sigh of relief.

It had only taken a week for your family to officially move, finding a much larger home which happens to be the mansion your family resides in now. Although the space was nice, it still took months until you forced yourself to move on from the dancing boy that had appeared in your dreams almost every night. The boy who had stolen your heart when you hadn't realized it. There was an attempt, when you were allowed your cellphone back, that you tried reaching out to discover his number had been disconnected, and despite the gnawing of confusion, you guessed his mother must have changed his number, the same as your parents had changed yours.

Eventually, after a year of returning to your hometown, which included graduating high school, your mother convinced you to get back into acting, to audition for as many things as you could until you found a job. So, that's what you did to keep your mind busy, scouring any information you could get regarding auditions for tv shows, movies, commercials, absolutely anything that would just keep you going. Sporadically, you landed the lead role in two separate movies, gained a celebrity friend, Maeve, and continued into the years piled immensely with interviews, traveling, movie premiers, award shows, your fame skyrocketing to the point millions knew your name.

And just like that, your world became brand new. Became a clean slate. Your past buried behind you while you sprung forward. Your success in the acting business brought numerous calls pleading for you to audition for their movies; businesses were begging you to promote their products; magazines arranged for your photoshoots where you appeared on a myriad of covers- you rarely had a clear schedule, and you liked it that way. Lights, cameras, paparazzi, meeting other famous individuals as well as meeting your fans, you were becoming happy again, you were finally returning to having a steady relationship with your parents, and your sister improved in her artistic ability. You were slowly forgetting about the boy you once knew.

You made callbacks for yet another movie at one point, but unfortunately, had not gotten the lead role as hoped for, rather, you played a minor character which ultimately gave you a break from the consistent moving. Your body needed a break; your mind needed rest, and so you decided to take a short break until you found the motivation to search for another job. The movie merely didn't make it far- critics claimed the plot had been too predictable, but it made it to the big screen regardless, and for that you were grateful. Another year passed, now being twenty-two years old, you and Maeve went on a shopping spree throughout the streets of your favorite city, sipping frappuccinos in the smothering heat of summer, a poster happened to catch your eye. Stopping to read it, the straw of your drink pressed to your bottom lip, Maeve's furrowed eyebrows veered from you to the poster.

"What is it?" She asked, ears perked to the sound of clicking cameras though the pair of you have learned to ignore it. Mumbling the words along with you, Maeve leaned forward, "Auditions being held for a romantic comedy this Saturday.... 9am to 3pm... Oh wow! You should audition!"

"What? Why me? Why just me?" You turned your head abruptly while studying your giggling friend.

"You said so yourself that you wanted to be in a comedy! And, there ya go, how much more of a coincidence can this be?"

"A poor one," you took a long sip from your drink quelling laughter from the incredulous gape Maeve flashed you.

"Are you not going to at least try? You are [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N] for crying out loud!"

You were tempted, and you honestly hadn't been in a comedy since you were... Ten years old. Chick flicks had mostly been your calling though funny moments of course were mingled amongst the seriousness. "That I am, but I don't sit on a throne, Maeve, I'm just as normal as it gets."

"If you define normal as putting your potato chips in your sandwich then I guess you're right,"

"It gives it a lil' crunch," your mouth missed your straw awkwardly, but you swerved just enough to catch it, "you should try it sometime."

"I'll try it when you audition for this movie," Maeve teased, "Which you will even if I have to drag you there myself,"

"You have much faith concealed in that tiny body, but okay,"

So therefore, you auditioned. It was the lead role you applied for which was about a character who caught the eyes of two guys the second she stepped into the school. The movie seemed hilarious from what you could collect, and you were shaking your head in laughter when you called Maeve exclaiming how you had gotten the part as she predicted. Although, she squealed in glee, she was dreading the idea of adding potato chips to her sandwich as she promised she would if you made the part.

The following week, you couldn't wait to meet your co-workers as well as the rest of the crew, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were immeasurably curious of who would be casted as your character's love interests. Though numerous options, it was hard to guess, though your mind filtered through familiar faces in the acting business. The producers and director filed into the room when chairs began to fill, slapping a thick script in front of everyone.

"There's been a slight change of plans for the story," the director said, prompting your eyebrows to knit together as you wondered what he could potentially mean, "Instead of two guys fighting over you," he pointed in your direction, "there will be seven!"

Interested grunts and 'awes' echoed in the space, and you nodded in surprise; seven? Seven men wanting you all at once? That would sound farfetched to any woman, even in the position you're in as an actress, it remained unbelievable. The director rubbed his hands together, "They couldn't make it today, but we will officially meet them tomorrow to finish looking over the script."

It seemed as if all you did was blink when you made it to set the next day, dressed in your favorite boot heels and casual wear- you weren't paying a bit of attention when you suddenly smacked dab into someone who happened to over tower you.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Ma'am!" He said, his fingers tickling your arms from where he hoped you would stay steady.

"It's fine! I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was going," you chuckled against the chagrin burned red upon your chest, and you couldn't help but be starstruck by the incredibly handsome face staring down at you. Noticeable dimples rested on either side of his grinning cheeks, and the coffee color of his eyes radiated kindness, and of course, you wondered innocently if he was one of the potential love interests the director mentioned the day before.

"I'm Kim Namjoon," he offered his hand which of course you took, enchanted by his smile, but you scolded yourself interiorly due to the obvious fact of not knowing him personally enough to care on whether he was available or not. There seemed to be a recognition in his countenance that you typically notice when people realize who you are, and you couldn't help the flattery when his hand still latched to yours picked up the pace while shaking it. "Oh my gosh! You're the [Y/L/N] [Y/F/N]! My girlfriend loves you!"

"That is so sweet of her," you were still blushing, but deeply touched by his words. Namjoon, dropped his hand in embarrassment from how long he had shaken yours, mumbling an apology, he slid his slim hands within his pockets.

"I must say, I am very honored to meet you. I've seen two of your movies with her and you were phenomenal!"

"Thank you very much, Namjoon! That means a lot. I hope I get to meet your girlfriend soon, she sounds like such a sweetheart," you tried to think if you had seen him in anything that had come out recently, but couldn't place a thing. You continued into the same room as yesterday, pulling your script from your bag, you settled into a seat before observing your surroundings, noticing in your peripherals Namjoon taking a seat beside a guy who appeared very quiet. Long, straightened blue strands spread upon his forehead while his dark eyes scanned the room. His lips were thinner compared to Namjoon's, and they rested contently while he leaned back in his chair. You tried not to stare too much, but when he caught you, you grinned instead of averting your eyes, relief flooded your senses when his lips raised into a side grin in return- his nametag reading 'Min Yoongi.'

When the seat on the other side of Yoongi skidded against the concrete floor, you instinctively looked to the sound, beyond amazed at the sight you saw. You weren't one to spike perspiration on the lining of your forehead just from seeing a man, but with the way his bandana complimented his brown tendrils neatly stacked on his head, you were beside yourself. His square jaw was locked in concentration while his petal pink lips pursed- his chocolate eyes rushed over the lines where he opened his script.

"Kim Taehyung?" A staff member asked, Taehyung nodded in reply, the worker placed the nametag before him, rounding the table to set yours before you. You would honestly never get used to people knowing who you are prior to an introduction considering the staff member had not questioned if you were indeed you. Thought aside, you were very taken aback on how sculpted this man was to a heavenly perfection.

"No, I didn't mean to trip the guy, I just wanted some food!" You vaguely identified the male whose windshield wiper laugh pleasantly greeted your ears while he found a seat, "Seriously, I hadn't seen him standing there." He poised his head enough to lock eyes with Min Yoongi, and you tilted your head curiously with question if they happened to know each other. But my, so far, who you assumed were going to be the men who were going to fight for your love, you were quite mesmerized by their beauty.

"Hello, my name is Chan-ri, I'm a huge fan of yours, how are you?" The exquisitely rosy cheeks of a red headed female entered your vision, and hearing her name, you remembered her from a TV show you binge watched with Maeve before. Genuinely, you offered a handshake, her comfortably taking the seat beside you. After you thanked her for her compliment whilst answering her question, she leaned in closer to your ear, "Is it just me or are these guys ca-ute?"

"The one in the bandana is looking better and better," you winked.

"Gosh, I couldn't agree more. And, I don't know if you've heard the rumors. But, the singer Jeon Jeongguk, apparently auditioned for a role,"

Eyebrows raised when you heard his name, "You're kidding!" You gasped in excitement. "Euphoria is literally my favorite song by him!"

"I could rave about his music all day long!" His presence entered the room as if on cue, hushing you and Chan-ri into bottled-up giggles, her winking at you in a way to say, 'we will talk later when the coast is clear.' A man with even redder hair than Chan-ri followed behind the well-known singer, and your lips parted in a silent gasp along with your amplified glance. "H-Hoseok?" He immediately sought for who said his name, and when he realized it was you, he couldn't help the smile that decorated his face.

"[Y/N]!" He greeted loudly, shuffling to collide into your hug, "Wow, how have you been? I haven't seen you in years!"

He helped you with dance moves for the spring musical sparking memories you hadn't reminisced in what felt like a lifetime ago, but here he was, in the flesh. "What a small world, I've been wonderful! How are you, Hoseok? What have you been up to? Look at you! So handsome!"

Hoseok thanked you before catching up with his life- he decided to go into acting when he graduated from Konkuk University with his soon-to-be fellow co-stars Seokjin and Yoongi which all made sense as to why Seokjin seemed comfortable talking to Yoongi earlier. Due to the encouragement of an individual he befriended, in high school, Hoseok explained how it stemmed him to chase his dreams, and here he was, auditioning for his first movie, excited to reunite with a familiar face from his past. He sat on the other side of Chan-ri, making conversation with her while you focused on the twiddling of your fingers. A poke on your shoulder made you jump an inch,

"Excuse me, is this where we meet?" A lighter voice spoke, but there was a distinct familiarity to it. When you faced the direction of where the question came from, the first thing you visualized was a silver necklace holding a pendant you hadn't seen since you were sixteen- one that you gifted someone as an emblem of your friendship- you were confused because not many people owned this specific piece of jewelry, and when your eyes slowly made the adventure to the individual's face, the rigidity paralyzed your frame faster than you could anticipate. Those eyes.

You knew those eyes. Better than anyone.

There was no stopping the intense hammering of your heartbeat; your temples pounded profusely, and he was frozen in place at the sight of you, because of your eyes. Neither of you moved, because there was disbelief at who either of you were looking at- his hair, now dyed, gleamed sleek blonde tendrils parted but long enough to tickle the lateral canthus' of his eyes, face thinned in a mature eloquence. It had been nearly seven years since the last time you ever saw him, and even then, he reflected your confusion, anxiously collecting whatever jumbled words he could form into sentences, but it was too late. The director enthusiastically entered the room, dispersing the moment just as quickly as it came.

"Greetings everybody! I see you've met our seven new cast members!" He grinned ear to ear, gesturing his hands toward all the guys. Shivering, but trying to keep it maintained, you watched your long-lost friend take a seat across from you next to Jeongguk. "Oh, and here's your nametag," the director plopped one in front of Jimin, you swiftly dropped your gaze, gritting your teeth in reaction to the strong waves of shivers plaguing your body. He was there. Park Jimin, as though you were acquainted with a ghost, was sitting right there in the midst of the small crowd, but with the way your muddled state was feeling- it had been only you two.

"Alright, let's open our scripts to page three. We need to review some main points of the story line." The director informed, but you were hardly listening, yet you kept your eyes zoned upon the booklet before you, only flipping pages at the sound of others doing so. Too many memories spun nonstop like a whirlwind, and you could sense Jimin glimpsing at you in the same wonderment as you were.

The trips to Mcdonalds where you both would split a large fry and dream about the future; the afternoon at school when the pair of you laughed about some cocky kid who face-planted in PE while playing soccer; the days you'd go jogging together and joke about anything under the sun; the moment when you two were drawing with your sister, and you thought Jimin's cow doodle was a duck. One of your fondest memories was your fifteenth birthday when Jimin, even Hoseok, along with your parents planned a huge surprise party just for you; the get-togethers with the drama club; auditioning for the lead roles in the spring musical and landing them. And the grand finale, when Jimin kissed you on what had been a final goodbye before exiting the stage that very night.

Nobody, other than Hoseok, in that room knew of the friendship you and Jimin once had. Nobody in the world would have known except the pupils the two of you attended school with. You were aware that if Jimin were to become famous, people would dig deeper to find that the both of you were in a movie together at ten years old, and all the other evidence that would explode within the media. You, to this day, will never forget the anxiety shooting through your figure while you pretended to review the script wishing you had the guts to just look at him.

The meeting ended in a blur, and you slung your bag over your shoulder, death gripping the script, and rushing out of the room where you felt as though you had been suffocating. You did not want to relive the heartbreak, so in desperation, you wanted to run.

He stopped you before you could even make it halfway to the entrance.

"Wait!" He bellowed. People were bustling by without any concern, but with the risk of a paparazzi capturing this moment you knew would need to be private, you ducked into the other side of a large staircase that appeared vacant aside from a tall plant, and Jimin followed suit- you spinning to see him sprinting toward you. For once you then understood when people described something to relate to a scene from a movie, because there was the love of your life, as if in a movie, running until he reached where you were. He was breathing heavily from the frenetic gesture, and understandably speechless, the pair of you weren't sure where to remotely begin. Swiping a slow hand through his hair, he looked so exquisite as he always had, and though you didn't want to revert to staring at the tiled floor of the opposite side of the lobby, you did. Carefully, he slipped his hands into his pockets, pressing his lips together in apparent worry.

"You're- you're blonde now," though small, a hint of a smile tinged your lips, a breathy laugh broke through Jimin's tight-lipped grin that infamously made his eyes disappear.

"Yeah," Jimin whispered tenderly, "Felt it was time for a change, ya know? Have been getting it colored since my twentieth birthday," breaking the ice enough, you found the strength to meet his gaze. His lips parted to then close multiple times, until he wetted them, "As you can tell, I honestly, don't know what to say, but, my God, I am so proud of you,"

"Jimin-" your voice broke, chin trembling from the burning tears when you knew that he was referring to your success, and the woman you have become. He stepped closer, releasing one hand from his pocket holding it out as if to calm the nervous tension.

"Really, [Y/N], I- you-" stammering through his words, you could see that he was blatantly in as much shock as you were, processing the fact that his long lost love was standing before him in all your glory. "I gave up acting in high school," he swallowed roughly, "as you can imagine, I was going through a rough time." He had been terrified to admit the reasoning considering the pair of you had no idea what had happened personally in each other's lives in the time between, and though he battled with what to say, he found the courage to just say it regardless, "When I lost you, I felt like- I just felt like there was no reason to really try anymore."

"Jimin," you whispered as if pleading with him, "I tried reaching out to you, but your number was disconnected- it was, it was disconnected, I-"

"No, [Y/N], please, don't cry- it's not your fault- Please," this time, he inched so close, that if you would have collected enough bravery, you could have rested your forehead at the curve of his chin where he could have invited you in for the warmth you could fall forever deep in. Eyes refusing to break contact, he continued, "After I saw your first movie, there were a few interviews I listened to where you said some of the most encouraging things, and I realized, if there was anyone I aspired to be like, it's you." Surprise lingered in your expression, because how could any of this be real? You knew stories like this were only filmed for the interest of the world, so how could someone you once cherished return out of the blue to tell you exactly what you needed to hear? "You, [Y/N], are the reason why I never gave up on myself. Why I never gave up at all. Why... I decided to go back to what I loved."

You were his inspiration, and because of that he ended up here. Back when you thought fate was so cruel to take him away from you, here he was, back into pursuing his passion for acting, all because he never gave up on you. You hated falling apart, you hated crying unless it was for the cameras, but in all vulnerability, especially when Jimin pulled you into his arms where your nose pressed into his chest, you cried. With all the pent-up emotions from a time you tried to avoid, you cried. Jimin refused to let you go until you were okay, and without any delay, you stayed by his side, repudiating from going home when you had seven years of catching up to do. There was barely any attention on anything, not even how Jimin opened his hotel room door without you stealing his kisses to the point you couldn't breathe. Fingers tangled into his shirt, he kicked the door behind him, emotions pouring from the way he kissed you as though he was going to lose you again. The most experience you knew, sexually, was from scenes you filmed with other actors- mostly steamy make out sessions, but you had never personally done the 'deed' in reality. Your back plopped upon the bed, palms pressed on either side of Jimin's jaw where your fingertips graced his hair, his hands cradling the sides of your waist while he continued to part his lips so gently with yours.

"Wait," you stopped, Jimin's enlarged eyes flashed concern as though he may have hurt you, "No, no, you haven't done anything wrong. I just- I just," you trailed off, chest rising and falling to steady your nerves. "I've never..."

Jimin exhaled a sigh of relief, bowing his head enough to where his hair feathered your cheeks, "I haven't either." You would be lying if you said you weren't surprised especially with all you had heard from stories others had told about men when it came to sex. But, at the same time, you always knew Jimin was different. Or, maybe it was purely meant to be, how you two abstained from something that was destined to be saved for the pair of you to share with one another. "I don't," Jimin's eyes flickered between your own because if there was anyone, he had an immense respect and adoration for, it was you, "I don't want to rush you into anything-"

"Jimin," your thumbs ran along the soft skin of his face, halting his words, "I want you,"

There was a hopeful smile that beamed from him before he covered your lips with even more kisses, making your head spin in a bliss you only ever felt when being with him. "Are you sure?" He pulled away; eyes boring into yours as if reading every inch of your soul.

"More than anything," you nodded, lifting your head to touch your lips to his for only a mere second. He was so in awe of you that he would do anything for you, and that never changed and never will. Kissing him was the most captivating addiction, and you never wanted it to end. Still completely clothed- the innocence would have been humorous in others' eyes, but the two of you were learning. And, the two of you were wanting to learn together and that's all that mattered to you. Park Jimin had never made you feel uncomfortable at any point that night, and you knew he wasn't going to overstep any boundaries. The fast pace of his lips sparked a feeling to rise within your core- a new feeling you wanted so eagerly to explore, the warmth was nearly smothering your panties, and you instinctively spread your legs to where he comfortably remained, his hips grinding his clothed erection along your area, where the crave to feel the entirety of his skin was all you could think about.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your fingers underneath his t-shirt, his stare timorous whilst you lifted it past his head, exposing the rock-solid muscles toned along his arms and abdomen. Your mouth watered causing you to gulp- never in your life had you seen such a masterpiece, even from his jawline to his soft, blonde hair- you still couldn't muster how ethereal this man before you was. Tossing his shirt to the ground, he remained above you, the necklace you gifted him years ago dangling before he kissed you hard while your fingertips soothed along his back, his hand moving to cup your attired breast, tenderly squeezing it releasing a soft moan from your lips. Just the feel underneath your fingertips of his warm skin made you anxious to feel him molding into you- gripping his wrists, leading them to the end of your shirt, Jimin lifted it off you- your lacy bra staring back at his broadening eyes which caused his breath to hitch in the back of his throat.

"Oh," he groaned, "[Y/N], you are so perfect," his words nearly brought you to tears; your hands rested upon his cheeks, bringing him back to you to plant a soft kiss on his thick lips, him lowering to where his skin finally met yours, the enticing move enveloping you all at once, you could hardly contain yourself, exhaling against his lips just for him to brush his tongue along yours. One by one the clothes came off until his bare legs were jumbled with yours, his erection rubbing along your dampened heat, his thumbs caressing your nipples- the ticklish feeling caused your fingers to dig into his back. Jimin nipped at your collarbone, leaving numerous kisses along your chest, moving backwards to kiss along your stomach, the wetness lingering while your eyes slammed shut in utter paradise. He pecked along your hip bones, his hands never leaving your breasts until he made it to your inner thighs. Slithering his fingers to cling onto your quivering limbs, he spread your legs, his breath panting tepidly along your folds, his eyes widening with the urge he always wanted to fulfill, and only with you. You had never experienced this, and though you had heard of the such thing from various sources, you were curious to know what it felt like. Your clit rhythmed with your hyperventilating, him moving to kiss your inner thighs before returning to your vulva. Your toes curled along the bed sheets, your body tensing in preparation- and that's when he did it.

Gently licking his tongue along your slit, up and down, the motion emancipating a high-pitched moan from your throat which motivated him to continue. He brought his fingers to spread your folds, your core clenching while he sped the movements of his tongue- licking and licking until your hips involuntarily began to shift- your fingers gripping the bed sheets- sweat beading your forehead. For a few minutes, he continued to pleasure you, the tip of his tongue sliding against your clit before returning to hover above you. Though you were uncertain if what you were about to do would be done correctly, you moved your hand to hold his erection, gliding up and down gradually, him hissing with how good it felt to have your hand wrapped around him. That gave you the inclination that everything was being done smoothly; Jimin rested his lips to where your heart pounded, then moved to suck your nipple while your hand did the work, his hands squeezing at the mattress in response to the growing feel of an orgasm.

He stopped you, not wanting to cum too soon, instead interlaced his fingers with yours and rested your closed hands against the pillows above your head. Your core still tightening from how aroused you were, both of you held each other's gaze, you nodded that you were ready. Ready for what you two had been longing for. He swallowed nervously, "I, um, I don't have a condom,"

"Oh," you seemed a bit more scared than how you really felt, "well, I mean, I am on birth control for my... monthly cycle, so I don't think... I should be good," relieved, his knees rested on either side of your legs; lips parted, Jimin's eyes met yours, him leaning forward to stay above you- your legs raising to spread in preparation- while his one hand rested beside your head, he took the other to hold his erection to your heat, your shoulders tensed from the butterflies swarming your stomach.

"Are you sure?" His whisper was nearly inaudible, but nothing in this world would ever change your mind.

"Yes," you nodded, breathless. "Please." Your hands moved to rest on his shoulders- slowly he began to push within your walls- the pain nearly brought you to tears- but, you clenched your teeth, forcing yourself to relax just enough for him to penetrate further, his heart thrumming beneath his chest, especially with the pain he did not want to inflict on you.

"[Y/N], I'm so sorry, are you sure about this, I don't want to hur-" he paused immediately when he heard a muffled cry escape you.

"It's okay, keep going," your eyes were squeezed shut, and you eased your body from the tension knowing he was halfway there. Steadily, he moved further until all of him was within you, the worst part finally being over, you calmed yourself enough to stare into his eyes, your breaths increased, yet relief flooded your countenance because now the pain was subsiding just enough for him to proceed. He thrusted slowly, his lips passionately syncing with yours as your fingers tangled with the smooth tufts of his hair- with one hand, he rested his fingertips above your clit, rubbing affectionately whilst sexing you- the building of the fire below causing your muscles to taut. How something so powerful could bring such a wondrous escape you would never be able to equate,

"Mmm," you hummed against his mouth- the sensation of the orgasm finally reaching its peak- him jolting backward, to finish pumping his spillage onto the bed sheets to then watching you unravel from the ecstasy released from your core. "Holy shit," you could barely find words- perspiration covered each of your bodies, the heat nearly stifling yet still wanting his skin upon yours lingered. He embraced you once the sensitivity dimmed- you nestled your face into the side of his neck.

"We did it," you whispered, finding it adorable how accomplished you feel, and Jimin pressed you tighter to him, his fingers running along the side of your arm- him moving to brush a gentle peck to the side of your forehead.

"We did it," he repeated, a large, contagious smile spreading across his face- a smile you had fallen in love with once upon a time. You shifted just enough to where your arms hugged behind his neck- bare chests pressed together- your leg lacing around his waist, his hand sliding to rest upon your hip. The silver pendant entered your sight, and amazement hovered,

"You still have it,"

It wasn't a question, more of a softened statement; it was the first time you mentioned it aloud, but Jimin knew exactly what you were talking about, "I never planned on taking it off," rendered speechless, you kissed him one more time, letting every piece of him whisk you away- and nothing could ruin this moment. Park Jimin was back in your arms, and nothing was ever going to take him away from you. Not again.

The fabric of your dress feels silky beneath your palms as you slide them to smooth out any wrinkles. Makeup finished as well as the curling of your hair, you are proud of the dress you chose to wear- it being your favorite color, and one you confidently feel Jimin will love just as much. For some reason, you feel anxious about seeing him tonight, though you don't know why exactly. You have known him a total of fourteen years, yet it still feels like you are seeing him for the first time with any day he is standing before you. Flicking off the lights to your bathroom and bedroom, you scurry down the stairs with your black clutch in hand, entering the living room in the direction of the front door.

"Well, someone looks extraordinarily beautiful tonight,"

"Oh! Mom! You scared me!" You gasp, chuckling when you turn to see your mom leaned against the door frame that leads into her office; her arms are crossed though she smiles at you suspiciously.

"Sorry, honey. I was on Facebook when I heard heels, so I came running,"

Lowkey a fashion guru, your mother always enjoyed seeing the gowns you would be fitted for events, and knowing you haven't had anything lined up recently, she rushed intuitively to see what her daughter is up to.

"Well, what do you think?" You twirl in place, the dress brushing your knees before hanging in place.

"What's the occasion?" Mom raises a brow, though you know she's teasing. Your mother has always been one who liked to be aware of where you are in case if something were to happen which you know that is how you would be if you had a child. Though aware of your fame and constant schedule, your mother wants to at least know you're safe, especially when you are followed most of the time in public.

"I'm... going to see Jimin tonight," you have refrained from bringing him up countless times knowing it can be a potentially uncomfortable topic for your mom, but you refuse to lie about your whereabouts for fear of something that might not be the case anymore. Distant, you notice the way she seems closed off, like something is drifting a cloud of culpability above her head. "Mom, are you okay?" Worried that something may be wrong, you question: does she not like him? Sadly, you truly have avoided any conversation revolving Jimin; even when he came back into your life, it still made the topic awkward.

Mom bites the corner of her mouth before letting out a defeated sigh, "I'll be right back." She steps into her office, and your eyebrows scrunch in obvious curiosity as to what she is doing. Waiting patiently, she makes her way to you, hand outstretched with a folded picture she gestures toward you. "I found this the other day, and I thought maybe you should have it." Your mother slightly grins against welling tears, and when you reach for the picture, you carefully open it, tears filling your own eyes at what you see.

It's a picture of you and Jimin from when the two of you were either fourteen or fifteen- taken in the evening since it was dark in the background; you figured it must have been cold because you were wearing a jean jacket while he wore his favorite gray hoodie at the time with the bolded word 'Supreme' written in the center. His arms were draped over your shoulders, and you could see the top of a Mcdonalds drink resting in his free hand. The pair of you were smiling so wide defining the happiness the two of you brought to each other on any given day.

"I remember this," you murmur, looking back at your mom, "Our families went out to eat together, and you and his mom were taking God knows how many pictures," you kid. A tear pangs your mother's cheek as she shares a smile with you.

"I remember too. It was such a great night."

"It was," staring at the photo, your heart swells, "Thank you, mom."

When you step to hug her, that's when she loses it- tears spilling down her cheeks while she holds you so close, "I'm so sorry," she sniffs, "We could have worked everything out- grounded you, supervised the two of you or, something! I shouldn't have forced you to move away."

"Mom," you plea, not wanting her to hurt because it breaks your heart to see anyone you know, and love upset. The both of you have held your feelings about the situation for seven long years and never even tried discussing it. Sometimes, talking can be the best medicine- not only do you have to think before you speak, but forgiving the person long before the two of you work things out can really help solve a problem. All one must do is listen.

"I just... I panicked! I didn't want my daughter to make a mistake. You were so young-"

"It's okay, mom, really. I understand,"

"I wanted to even force you to switch out of drama class, all because I was so scared. I didn't even want you in the play. Your father convinced me to let you perform because," she pulls away and holds your arms, wanting to look in your eyes that mirror her own, "He reminded me that we were young once too. We met at sixteen, you know that. And I just remember feeling so guilty when he told me that," your mother looks down for a moment to gather her words, "I could have lost my daughter because I believed I was doing the right thing. I should have trusted you, and I am so, so sorry for everything."

"Mom," you hug her again, "I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Oh, it's so good to know that!"

"And, mom, if we never moved back to our hometown, I wouldn't be as successful in my career as I am now. You encouraged me to go back into acting, and for that I will forever be grateful. Besides, Jimin came back. That's all that matters," your reassurance mends her heart together as she carries pride in her eyes on how far you have come in all that you have endured.

"I love you. And, if you ever need to talk to me about anything, anything at all, you know I'm here for you,"

"Even if it's about Jimin?" You giggle lightheartedly, tucking the picture of you and him in your clutch for safekeeping.

"Even if it's about Jimin." She smiles, "Now what are you still doing here? Go! Get out! Have fun, and please be safe!"

Skipping out the door, the feeling of closure overwhelms your soul, and for once, you feel as if life couldn't get any better, and now you and your mother can one hundred percent be the rock you will forever need no matter where life takes you. When the black SUV that holds your favorite driver, Stan, appears, you burst through the gate and into the back of the car, for him to hand you a small note.

Meet me on the rooftop. Your Chim Chim xo

You reread the note with a smile when you make it to an elevator upon arrival to Jimin's hotel- Stan saying to call whenever you are ready to be picked up. You're amazed how little people seemed to be roaming the hotel, and as a normal for you, you scoped your surroundings in case of any clicking cameras before stepping into what will lead you to your destination. Reaching the top floor, you find a staircase that you presume will climb you to the rooftop, so in determination you begin, trekking up the flight of stairs until you pause at a door.

Inhaling and exhaling calmly, you slowly push open the door, rounding a corner where an intriguing scenery causes you to gasp in surprise. Stringed lights glisten, covering every pole of mahogany wood that encloses the area together. Candles are blinking upon an elegant, black table for two adorned with silverware, lid-covered plates, a wine bottle, and two empty wine glasses. Flowerpots are hanging from different sections of the balcony, bringing more color to the patio; sparse trees fill the rest of the space, the atmosphere exuberating nothing but serenity. Jimin did all of this for you.

Eyes searching, you finally find him, in a black fitted suit, hands in his pockets while he stares at the starry sky. Taking the time to admire him, you have always been so in awe of how genuine he is. Treating his fans with all the love, constantly caring for his family, keeping up with his friends, and for always being there for you no matter what it takes. He listens to you the same as you do for him and being in the entertainment business where rumors spread like wildfire, sometimes a listening ear is what one needs. He has been everything you have ever wanted, and he always will be.

You clear your throat, "Well, sir, you weren't kidding when you said you wanted to spend time with me."

Whirling on a heel, his expression eases when he sees it's you, "Hey!" He beams, eyes disappearing from how big his smile spreads. "I didn't hear you come in. How long were you standing there?"

Noting how he seems embarrassed, you can't help but find it irresistibly adorable, "Not long," you promise, watching him step in your direction.

"Good, I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay, Chim. I don't even know why you're worried, silly,"

"Whoa, you really took me seriously when I said to wear something pretty," Jimin reaches for your hand while you lower your head timidly.

"Look at you! You look like a model!" Jimin throws his head back at your compliment, "And, look!" You point at his shoes, "New shoes! Look at those beautiful, new shoes!"

"I told you I was going to get new ones today!" He tries stifling his laughter in the crook of his arm before sliding your chair out for you to sit.

"And, have I ever told you how much I love the blonde hair on you? I feel like I don't tell you enough," One thing you have learned over the years of knowing Jimin, is he blushes just as easily as you do. When one compliments him, he can't help but slump in his chair before burying his forehead onto the back of his wrist.

"Why are you making this about me," he whines playfully, "I want this to be about you,"

"But, it's always about me, maybe I like to spice things up a bit to appear humbling," your eyebrows wiggle, sending Jimin in another bout of giggles.

"Speaking of spice, are you hungry?"

"Famished," you dramatically emphasize, Jimin shaking his head at you with amusement while he reaches over to lift the lid of the plate. A steaming slab of steak laying scrumptiously on a pile of rice makes your mouth water, even when your eyes trail to the seasoned vegetables beckoning you to devour them. "This looks so good," you acclaim, preparing a fork and knife in order to start slicing. Jimin has already taken a bite in agreement. Deciding to take another swoop of how beautifully the décor mingles with the design of the patio, you speak after swallowing your first mouth full of meat. "I wasn't expecting this," you say softly, looking back at Jimin who cocks a musing eyebrow.

"What did you expect? Mcdonalds?" Jimin grabs the wine bottle, succeeding in opening it before he pours each of you a glass.

"No, you brute, the patio! It's wonderful up here."

"I wanted everything to be special." He murmurs, lifting his glass after holding your eyes, "You deserve it,"

In all honesty, you are at a loss for words, because how you ever deserved a man so loving, you will never know. And amidst conversation, you briefly remember the picture your mother gave you before you left, and deciding to make this known, you wet your lips, "So, I talked to my mom earlier this evening and," you prop your elbow onto the table after gripping the memory within your fingertips, the back of the picture facing Jimin. "She gave me this, and I wanted to show it to you."

Handing it to him, he gently takes it, a reminiscent grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I remember this," he says, "my brother actually teased me because..." He trails off, his grin falling for a moment. "I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend that day, but I chickened out." Your shoulders fall a bit though your heart flutters. Jimin was going to ask you to be his girlfriend? What made him afraid to? You open your mouth to speak, but when you find no words, he continues. "I had assumed that it was just going to be me and you going out that night with Jihyun, but, then both our parents ended up coming."

"That's still so sweet of you," you assure him, wanting the guilt that clouds his eyes to dissipate.

"I like this picture by the way." He holds it up and hands it back over to you. "I want a copy."

"I'll print one for you," you pact, his sincere eyes never leaving yours- all you know is if the table between you didn't exist, you'd kiss him. But as if he reads your mind, he reaches across the table and intertwines his fingers with yours; your eyes still locked preparing to say something, but the scrape of the door makes the two of you jolt and hands part. "Dessert!" A waiter lays out two white bowls in front of each of you, to then taking up the emptied dinner plates.

"Chocolate ice cream?" You say as Jimin smirks at your mouth falling open in glee.

"Our favorite," he winks, bringing a fourteen-year-old memory back in loop of the days where he loved to wear it on his face, and you never let him live it down. Chocolate syrup is drizzled over the dollops, a leaf of mint nestled on top of a scoop to complete the appetizing goal.

"I thought you said you weren't good with girls," you scoff, pressing your spoon into the dessert.

"I'm not."

"Then what is this?" you say quickly, gesturing to the dessert of symbolism.

"I think what you're trying to say is I'm romantic," He raises a brow, pointing his spoon toward you. "Besides, I think it's about time that we admitted that we are committed."

A warm sigh brushes over your cold lips, the taste of the ice cream melted on your tongue, because you know he's right. What have you really been afraid of? Was it really your mother for the fear of her still not accepting him? Well, now you know that she will accept him, so that's not an excuse. Were you afraid of the hateful words that would be thrown your way if the press were to confirm a relationship between you two? In the end, it's about you and Jimin, and despite hate, what would it matter if the world knew? Candidly, you want to protect him from the media, but your strong feelings of keeping him safe are equal to how much he wants to keep you safe.

What really scares you, more than anything, is losing him again. And, you have remained in this strange thought that if the pair of you stayed simply friends that maybe it would prevent heartbreak. Others, for example Maeve, you know would be highly confused by your thought process on the entire subject because why not be in a relationship with him when you both already seem like you are in one? What's crazy is you know Jimin loves you more than anything in this world, you can feel it, yet the pair of you have not said it since you were sixteen years old. The couple years of him returning made you fall in love with him all over again, and the truth is:

You would love to be his girlfriend. You would love to just be his forever.

Before you can respond, the subtle sound of a guitar begins to play through speakers you notice are hanging a distance behind the flowerpots. As if on cue, Jimin stands to his feet, patting his lips daintily with a crumpled napkin before tossing it on the table. "You want to dance?" He asks you, offering his hand.

"Always," he leads you to a secluded spot upon the balcony, and his arm rests behind your back. The volume of the music rises just a notch, you squeeze his shoulder once before resting your head on his chest. The side of his chin brushes your forehead while he sways you so gently, and merely getting lost in the feel of him. Your heart pounds to the rhythm of the song, and you swallow against the nerves enveloping your chest, and you let the song finish into the start of the next one, when you pull away enough to gaze into his eyes. Concern etches in his irises the second he sees you, slowly swaying to a halt. "Jimin," you breathe, fingers tightening their hold on his hand and his shoulder unintentionally, but he is ready to hear what you have to say, no matter what it may be. "Jimin, I know the past two years have not only been the most trying, but they also have been the most rewarding," you timidly drop your gaze to the silver necklace he has resting on the collar of his shirt before returning to stare at him once again, "I am in love with you, and I am ready beyond belief to let the world know it."

Nothing will ever be more magical than watching Jimin's smile grow, and the second it does, Jimin puts both hands on your waist, hoisting you in the air, spinning you around from the excitement he feels soaring all around his soul. You let out a loud laugh, linking your fingers behind his neck, your body leaning forward just a bit as your legs bend to where your heels almost reach your back. "I got you!" He laughs as you lightly lay your chin on his soft bundle of hair until he settles you back to your feet. Jimin, the one who stuck with you from the beginning and will stick with you until the end; the one who knows you more than you know yourself at times, the one you can laugh with, the one you can cry with; the one that you know will never want to lose you as long as he lives.

"I love you so much," His beautiful, brown eyes continue to bore into yours and just the pure love in them nearly brings you to tears, and in this very moment, something rings true- that if this man doesn't kiss you right now, you're going to lose it! Running your left hand through his hair, you stop at the back of his head. His wide smile turns into a grin as he leans closer to your face, resting his forehead against yours prompting your lips to part in preparation for his kiss, ready to feel the fireworks bursting in every place of your heart, ready to be wrapped so tight in his arms, ready for him to leave you breathless as he always does. Jimin then slips a hand off your waist and holds up his pinky finger to you- it catches you off guard, but it the most beautiful way.

"Promise me something, [Y/Nickname]." he nearly whispers.

"Anything, Chim,"

"Promise me that no matter what... You'll love me forever."

A tear slips down your cheek as joy overflows you, because from the first promise the two of you ever made to now, every memory you both have shared has been forever written on your heart. And you know from the look in Jimin's eyes, you both will be sharing plenty more.

"I promise, Jimin, " you say, bringing your pinky to his and wrapping it securely. "I will love you forever and always. Now... you better kiss me before I change my mind!"

Thrusting his head back in flattery, he shakes his head at you with glimmering eyes as he straightens himself to where he can cup your face with his palms. There is never a dull moment with you, and he knows a playful remark always has to be congruent within the seriousness, and when his plush, warm lips touch yours for the first time this evening, the fireworks begin, but instead of in the sky, they are literally bursting in every direction of your heart. No camera, script or film can ever describe how real this moment is. How true it feels. You both hold each other tight, feeling not only love but forever. As Jimin kisses you, sparks ignite, both your heads spinning, hearts pounding and cherishing every second, excited for the future.

Like the end of a perfect movie, you can faintly hear the beautiful song, singing the words of your promise, come to an end.

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valeskakingdom · 3 years

Text

Request

Could I request a part 3? Jerome keeps the reader as his hostage for popularity and attention. Reader is really fond of the attention she gets as well and eventually sleeps with Jerome again? In the end she sees how Galavan kills him and is really sad?

Requested by @violentvaleska

So guys, here's part 5!!

Credit gif: @jokersbabe27

Jerome x female reader (part 5)

Warnings: mentions of violence and murder, depression

Word count: 3378

*Later that day at the charity*

"Already excited for my show, doll?" Jerome grinned through his magician costume. you hated that costume. It hid Jerome's beautiful face with a shitty beard, his hairs were under a stupid wig and a black cylinder. And that tuxedo...gosh, you hated it thought not as much as the wig or the fake beard. The worst on it was his name...'Rodolfo'. You were disgusted by that name.

No magician in that universe would ever call himself like that! It sounds so ridiculous!

"Of course! Though I already know you'll be amazing as always." You smirked pressing a kiss on his cheek "Give them the best show they've ever seen!"

"That ain't be a problem for me" Jerome grinned "Even Hundini wouldn't have seen such a great show." You giggled at his comment.

"Without further ado, please allow me to present you the Great Rodolfo!" Immediately, Jerome walked on stage, everyone was applauding - even you. You were excited for how he was acting as a magician. Of course, you knew he was doing it well anyway. Jerome was professional. He could play every role in this Earth perfectly!

"Ha! Greetings ladies and germs," Jerome walked on stage "I am indeed the Great Rodolfo! Please ogle my lovely assistant. Ohh, for my first act, I'll require a volunteer. Let me see. Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, goose!" Jerome pointed at Bruce Wayne, the richest orphan in Gotham that was hated by every villain - really, everyone wanted to kill him.

"Hello, young man. Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" You heard Jerome saying after she went out to the crowd to bring him back.

"Bruce." The boy responded.

"Bruce! Well, Bruce. This won't hurt a bit." He clapped two great blades together "Is there a doctor in the house?"

Jerome sticked one of the blades in the box along with the other one. The audience gasped, them applauded him.

While watching you were astonished about Jerome's well, acting. Nobody noticed it was him. Neither Bruce nor the other guests recognized anything. Almost unbelievable for you.

"Some people say Bruce has a split personality." Jerome laughed loud while Barbara brought the little kid back to his actual place "For my next illusion, I'd like to call to the stage esteemed Deputy Major Harrison Kane."

Barbara pushed a rolling table, covered with a tarp, forward that it stood in front of Jerome. She pulled the tarp back and you could see any kind of knives laying down there. You were thinking about what was coming next. Is Jerome still playing with him or is he about to kill that guy?

Barbara bended down making the others noticed the next illusion was incoming. But a mistake happened, her mask fell down.

They're fucked!! You thought panicking. If anyone of the guests recognized them, they all would have a big problem. People would call the police, others die, the police finds you and eventually become informed about Theo, as well.

But Barbara kept being professional. Nobody made a move to start panicking or to call the police. Everything stayed normal.

"By the way, nobody is getting out here alive." At first the crowd laughed because they thought he was just joking - of course, he did not. Jerome killed the Deputy and the gunfire started. People were screaming and hiding in hope they weren't the next victim.

You flinched a little in surprise, although you might have expected it. Who would Jerome not kill expect you? He killed his mother, now the Deputy Major...it was just a matter of time to see who was his next victim.

For you, that all was pretty exciting, but also a big feeling of unpleasantness came over you. This situation reminded you of the day Jerome kidnapped you. You had flashbacks. You fear, you uncomfortableness, the nervousness, the wish to go home...everything came back - you knew best how the victims felt right now, and.

And as the last time, something told you that this situation wouldn't turn out well.

You wanted to be with Jerome right now. You just wanted to hug him, you wouldn't care whether he liked it or not, you just needed it.

But you couldn't go to him. You promised him to stay backstage to watch his marvellous show. And you knew, as everyone else knew what would happen if you broke the promise. His mood would change again and you needed to see whether it would turn out well for you or not.

You just stared at your lover. Finally he took the cylinder from his head as the wig, his black mask and the beard. Finally he presented himself again. You couldn't help but smile. You saw him being excited, being happy. He was the star in the show as he was the boss. You loved to see this: him standing there calm and managing everything while around him was pure chaos.

He was so professional you thought.

Out of nowhere, another woman was brought on stage, it was Lee Tompkins.

She was handhuffed, her gaze expressed fear and panicking.

They probably have taken her from behind as she was about to call the cops to tell what was going on.

You saw Jerome gazing at her with a smile - immediately, you hated her. You hated how you Jerome looked at her, how he smiled at her. It looked the same as every time he was smiling at you.

"Hey, darling" You felt shivers down your spine and jealousy came over you as he said that, you hated when Jerome was acting kinda flirty with other women. You always got the feeling they'd be much better than you but you also that your thoughts are wrong "I need to borrow your phone for a moment. We wanna tell Jimbo how the show's going on, don't we?"

And so he called him:

"Sorry Jimbo, it's just little old me!" He said nothing for a moment, then "Are you outside? You are, aren't you?" He cackled" Oh, goody!"

"Breathe, James. I haven't touched a hair on your girlfriend's pretty head." See for yourself. This is live television after all." You heard Jerome laughing after he responded to 'Jimbo'.

Then Jerome and Barbara tied Lee up on that big wheel pretending to shoot her head. It was all to entertain the crowd, to make them love. No one loved though - besides you. You loved their show. It entertained you and you loved to see your lover in action.

"True, but not the point. Hey, let's talk about what I want." Jerome walked down the stage closer to the camera "$47 million, a helicopter, obviously, the dry cleaning I left at Mr. Chang's be careful, the man is a crook, and mm, I don't know, a pony. Uh, you got ten minutes or I start killing people. Remember this is being broadcast to every home in Gotham, so, don't let people die. Bye!" Jerome laughed into the phone as he hung up "I think that went well." Jerome looked at you giving you a wink with a smile.

"Enough! You need to pack up your pathetic little sideshow and leave!" You suddenly heard Theo yelling from the other side of the stage. You were confused. What was he doing here? He told them to do this! Or did this still belong to the show?

"Is that right?" Jerome asked with a smirk.

"It may be presumptuous to speak for all citizens of Gotham. But we are sick of you! You're a small, vicious man with a pathetic need for attention. Enough man, for God's sake, enough!"

You were even more confused about Galavan's words. Something was in the bush. In his tower he spoke in high claims of Jerome that he was the star in the show, that he trusted Jerome most that he'll do it. What was wrong now?

"I'm curious what your leverage is here, Mr.?"

"Theo Galavan"

"Well, Mr. Theo Galavan, if you don't sit down, uh, I'm gonna shoot you. In your face."

"I know there is some human decency left in you. If you need a hostage, take me. But let these people go home! To their families, to their children." Before Theo could continue his speech, Barbara knocked him out with a some kind of pan. You giggled for yourself, almost laughed loud. It looked so stupid for you how he fell on the ground. It was like in a real blockbuster.

"Boring" Barbara stated.

"Right" Jerome cackled loudly, then he made his way to you with a big grin in his face. Automatically you grinned, too.

"How do you like the show doll?" Jerome grabbed your hands and pulled you close to him. You felt a slightly blush spreading over your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours. His hands grabbed your cheeks softly to intense the kiss.

"I love it! It's very exciting" You grinned wrapping your arms around his neck while he wrapped his arms around your waist "But I'm much happier about you not wearing this cruel costume anymore. It covered your face, I hated it."

Jerome just chuckled about your comment and kissed your forehead.

"I have an idea," You just raised your brows looking at him in interest "Wanna be the star in my show?"

"Of course I do!" You smiled wide before he pressed his lips against yours quickly, then you both walked out. Gasps filled the room, all eyes were on you. They all knew who you were. You were the missed girl everyone was looking for. They either thought you were dead or that you were left at a lost place. But now you stood there - healthy, happy, self-confident.

"I know what you all think: That's (Y/n)! What is she doing here?! Where has she been?! I tell you all a secret: She was with me all the time." Jerome grabbed your face soft making you giggle "She's gorgeous, isn't she? Always has a pretty smile in her face."

Barbara pulled a next man up on stage positioning right in front of you and handed you a gun. Then she placed an apple on the man's bald.

"You know how to hold a gun, doll?" Jerome grinned wrapping his arms around you from behind. You felt his lips and his warm breathe touched your cheek. It was giving you chills in arousal.

"I'm not that stupid, Jerome." You made sure the gun was loaded. You positioned yourself to keep stable and pointed the gun at the apple. That was what Barbara and Tabitha have taught you over the days you were at Galavan's.

The man in front of you was shivering with wide eyes, his sweat was dripping down his forehead. His eyes expressed fear and you could see he wished you didn't kill him.

"Hold very still." Jerome growled at the man, then he covered his eyes with one hand "I can't look! Someone tell me how it turns out."

You inhaled deeply and concentrated on the apple. But as you pulled the trigger, just water came out and splashed into the old man's face. At that moment, you thought that Jerome jerked you around with tell you time the star.

Jerome just sighed in annoyance grabbing your gun and gave you a new one assuring you that he didn't know the gun was fake.

"Damn! Turn around." The man looked at you in fear and turned around. With his eyes he literally begged you not to shoot or at least to hit the apple. He was about to stop moving as you shot the apple from his head. The crowd gasps in shock and relief that the guy wasn't dead yet.

"Whoo!" Barbara cheered happily. You knew she was proud of you that you didn't blame yourself and missed the apple. You were proud of yourself, too. You shot without hesitation, not even thinking of missing the apple and accidentally shoot the guy.

Every one else kept quiet tho.

"Well, clap!" Jerome shouted kinda aggressively to the crowd - then they did it. Nervously and fast. He laughed slightly pressing a kiss on your cheek "Well done, doll."

"Thank you, Jerome." You grinned. He took the gun out of your hands and placed it on the table with the knives. Then he kept staring at them for a while, you could see he was thinking about something.

"Do you know how to use a knife? Just wondering." Jerome smiled at you.

Before you could answer though, you saw Lee kicked Barbara in the stomach making her grunt.

As Barbara looked up at Lee, you could see fury was written in her face. She was angry, mad...these words just described a very small part of her feeling. It was incredible how much hate a person could express.

You looked at Lee. You could see she didn't give a fuck about her consequences.

"Haven't been ten minutes," Jerome hissed holding Barbara's arm tight that she was unable to stab Lee "We need to buy you a watch." Soon as Jerome turned around back to you Barbara punched Lee in her face. The crowd and you all gasped in surprise. Jerome instead, just looked at you shaking his head in disappointment what made you chuckle.

"Well, I think it's time for tonight's first official victim. You all know and love. Poor rich boy...Parents murdered in an alley, and my favorite volunteer: Where is Bruce Wayne?" Jerome claimed waiting for the little boy's appearance - he didn't come though. Everyone looked around for the boy hoping he would come. They, as you, knew what would happen if he did - someone will die.

"You know, I'm an orphan, too, Bruce? I killed my parents, though." Jerome spoke to the microphone, then stepped away from it "Where are you hiding?"

"Bruce!" Jerome screamed in anger making you flinch a little - you were always surprised about his temper. It came rapidly and was gone after a few seconds "Where are you buddy?!"

"That little kid's afraid of you, Jerome." You giggled wrapping your arms around his torso kinda in hope to calm him down a little. You had no idea his temper could ride that fast. "Give that boy some time to realize how much fun he's gonna have with you."

"We don't have time, right now. We have a plan to follow." Jerome grumbled looking around for Bruce and slightly pushing you away from him. In your eyes, Jerome was a mix of an infant and a monster or the evil itself. His impatience reminded you of a child that didn't get his will. And his eye expression expressed fury, evil and the strong wish to kill the kid. It was fascinating, and almost frightening.

"Kill his butler!"" Barbara suggested.

"Alright, last chance Bruce but it's about to get very butler-brainy out here." Jeromekept looking around. While that, some of Jerome's colleagues grabbed the butler's arms right pushing him forward to Jerome. He was an older tall man in a black tuxedo looking very concerned for the little boy - understandable.

"Brucey!" Jerome yelled looking through the crowd but the boy still didn't appear "I'm bored. Shoot the butler." Jerome turned to you with a grin, not even really paying attention to what was happening around him. He just wanted you.

"Stop!" Bruce claimed panicking and ran fast in front of the stage to his poor butler.

"Let's get this started, huh?" Jerome gasped pulling Bruce back while pointing a gun at his head "You! Check behind the curtain! Make sure no one's playing silly buggers"

One of Jerome's colleagues nodded and walked to the curtain. He moved it aside the entrance, he got shot.

"Drop the knife!" James Gordon shouted pointing a gun at Jerome, but he just laughed and pressed the young Bruce Wayne in front of his body, a sharp blade was pressed on his throat almost cutting his thin skin.

"I don't have a clean shot!" Gordon shouted.

"Stay calm, Bruce." The butler tried to encourage the little boy after he took a gun, as well, pointing it at Jerome. He totally ignored what Gordon said. His mind was all around Bruce.

"It seems like we've got ourselves a pickle." Jerome stopped laughing but pressing a knife against Bruce's throat. "What do you say Brucey boy? Wanna boost our ratings, huh?" Jerome cackled insanely again "Smile."

"I said enough!" All of a sudden Theo appeared behind Jerome. He looked mad, very mad. Again you got that feeling of uncomfortableness. And again you got that feeling that something bad will happen now. You saw it on his gaze. This devilish grin. Something was in the bush.

And you weren't wrong. Shortly after Jerome turned to him slowly, Theo stabbed a knife into his neck.

Everyone gasped in shock, you were the loudest though. You heart dropped, you couldn't move for the moment, your legs became weak, cat got your tongue - you weren't able to breathe normal. You felt poor as you stared at Theo's hand that pressed the knife in Jerome's throat deeper and deeper - and that all right in front of you. Your whole body shivered, you were about to throw up every minute.

Tears built up in your eyes and some even streamed down your cheeks. This couldn't be real, this mustn't be real! You couldn't loose him, not now, not again, not forever.

Things have happened not quite perfect and you were mad at him, you didn't want to be with him, you even hated him for a moment, you were afraid of him... everything. You could say for one moment he was your biggest fear in your life because you were scared he'd kill you every minute, or every time you did something wrong. But that faded, it was forgiven, your love was refreshed. It was stronger than the night you two met for the first time. Your connection was stronger than ever before - you knew you belonged together. Why else did fate decide to let you two meet again? Why else would you fall for him again? Why else did he all you his doll, his girl, his queen? That weren't just words...it was more, a lot more.

You knew Jerome couldn't show love as usual people did, but you knew he loved you. His soft side towards you, him trying to make you smile, him protecting you when Greenwood teased you or harassed you..,that was all real. He didn't act at all!

All the memories came up. His smile, how you two hold a conversation for the first time at the circus, you felt the warmth on you hand again when you remembered how he held your hand. You could feel his arms wrapping around your body, and you could hear him calling you 'doll'.

And all this was gone forever now.

"I know, I know." He pressed Jerome down to the ground "Im so sorry, Jerome. You have real talent. But now you see, the plot thickens. Enter the hero." You saw Theo grinning slightly.

You could kill him for what he has done to him - and to you. He took all your joy away, he ripped your heart in two and three it away that it shattered in thousands of pieces. He had to die in your eyes. He just deserved it. You wanted revenge. You wanted to make him feel what he has done to you. You wanted to make him feel how you felt - sad, broken, shocked.

"I was gonna be.." With his last breath and his last courage, he looked up to you still having a grin in his face. His mouth opened shortly as if he was about to say something to you, but too late.

He was dead - dead as your happiness, your joy, you will to live. Your heart felt so heavy that every beating was exhausting you, as your breathing. The world was spinning around you. You body and your psyche couldn't handle what has happened just a few seconds in front of you.

He died, your love, your everything - your Jerome. And he will never come back.

And you died - inside.

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juju-on-that-yeet · 3 years

Text

At My Worst (Chapter 1)

Work Summary: Thanks to his enduring popularity in the fandom, The Author pops back into existence and the egos must suddenly contend with someone they thought was gone forever coming back from the dead. No one is more shocked than Dr. Iplier, who can't help but remember how things used to be - and slowly fall back into bad habits, despite his better judgement.

Warnings: Mild descriptions of past violence/discussions of death (more tags on AO3)

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

Last he knew, Dark was ripping his eyes out.

Then, he was nowhere and nothing.

Now, he suddenly is, where before he wasn’t, and the rush of sensation returning is terrifying and paralyzing. But he still knows who he is, he knows his name and that he’s a figment, and he remembers his life. Rather, his previous life, he suspects.

It doesn’t take long for The Author to get his thoughts back in order and regain the presence of mind to look around. He appeared standing, and somehow didn’t fall, but he doesn’t trust his legs enough to move just yet. He’s surprised by the fact that he can look around, that the eyes he viscerally recalls losing are back in his head, fully functional. The area he’s in looks familiar, reminds him of the forest his cabin sat in, but it becomes apparent that the place is different now. The trees are less wild, the ground more even. He’s standing on a path, perhaps a nature walk or hiking trail. Last he remembers, there were no such trails in his woods.

He finally walks, letting his instincts take him to where his cabin should be, though he already has a feeling it won’t be found. Sure enough, he goes as far as he can down the trail, leaves the path and goes onward, and eventually finds himself at the edge of a neighborhood. Where the cabin used to be is a two-floor house, probably built for a family with kids, and in the surrounding street are even more such houses.

Author doesn’t know how much time has passed, but clearly, it’s been a long time since his cabin stood. He has to wonder what became of his books, his life’s work. Were they saved by the other egos, or are they forever lost?

For a moment, he isn’t sure what to do. But he’s a clever man, so he thinks. If he exists, surely the other egos must be around somewhere, too. All he has to do is find them. But if they aren’t here, then where?

He walks back the way he came, back to the trail, passing the place he appeared in and continuing onward. By the time he makes it to the trail’s beginning, night has fallen, and the parking lot by the trail is empty. He walks past the parking lot, comes to a road, and walks. It’s not so late that no cars are driving, at least; it only takes a few whizzing by his upturned thumb before one decides to stop.

“Where you headed?” asks the driver, an ordinary-looking man with a moustache. Author wonders how entertaining he’d be in a story.

“LA,” Author says, settling into the passenger seat like he belongs. For having not existed at all twelve hours ago, his easy confidence returns quickly.

“Heh, aren’t we all?” the man chuckles, pulling off the roadside to start driving. “Anywhere in particular? I can put it in my GPS.”

“Not really,” Author says, “Just get me to the city and I’ll take it from there.”

The man shrugs, but doesn’t pry. Maybe he wouldn’t be a protagonist, but possibly a character just there to help the protagonist along, as he is now. Then again, his unquestioning nature would make him easy death fodder, too.

On the way to the city, Author tries to look around the car, just to see if he can figure out what day it is. The radio playing tells him the day of the week and the month before long, but he can’t figure out the year. It’s not a terribly long drive to the city (Author remembers how long it took to get to Dr. Iplier’s clinic, and the distance isn’t that different) (Oh, Dr. Iplier, he must be somewhere too, does he still hate Author for what he’s done?), and once he gets there, Author has but one favor to ask.

“Thanks for the ride, but quick question,” he begins as he unbuckles his seatbelt, “Any chance you have a pen and a notebook in your car I can have? Or even just a sheet of paper and something to write with?”

“Uh, sure,” the man answers, confused by the request but not so much that he won’t grant it. He rummages through the glove compartment until he pulls a notebook with some corporate logo, and a pen with the same branding. “Have these, got them from work a long time ago but I don’t need them.”

“Perfect!” Author exclaims, taking the notebook and pen. He flips through the notebook, taking in the sight of blank pages, empty canvases, ready for him to make his own. “Have a good one, man.”

The man nods, rolls up his window, and drives off, leaving Author standing on a random sidewalk just inside Los Angeles. But he’s not bothered, because he finally has his tools. He can do anything or get anywhere. He knows that Dr. Iplier’s clinic has likely gone the way of his own cabin if it’s been too long, but the egos must be somewhere in the city. Author doesn’t know why he feels that way, but he supposes his instincts have the right idea. He’s always been a creature of impulse, so he does exactly what he did when the sun was up and lets his legs carry him where they may.

When he gets hungry, he enters a fast food restaurant and opens his notebook again, this time to write. While in line, he reads the cashier’s nametag and puts pen to paper: When The Author reaches the front of the line and orders, Stella pays for his meal herself. And she does, without skipping a beat. Author stays in the building to eat, and internally snickers at the confused look he sees on Stella’s face when she realizes what she did, seemingly for no reason.

As far as Author can perceive, it hasn’t been very long at all since he last used his power. But his body can tell it’s been a long time, somewhere deep in his mind knows it’s been forever since he picked up a pen and changed reality to suit his needs. A part of him is glad he’s still got it, but how could he ever lose it in the first place?

Back to walking. It’s late at night, but his mind is too active to be tired. It wouldn’t be the first time he was up all night, whether pacing his cabin trying to untangle the next scene of a story, or painting LA red in search of inspiration, or tormenting a character in the woods, or staying up with Dr. Iplier until the sun came up and he had to return to his clinic in the early hours, yawning through a cup of coffee. Thinking of his doctor only makes Author’s mind buzz even more. How long has it been, truly? What must Dr. Iplier be like now? Can they start over again, now that Author’s been reset?

The more Author walks, the more he feels a pull to keep going. It’s as if there’s a GPS unit inside his brain, telling him which way to go. He has no clue where he’ll end up, but he follows anyway, not having anywhere else to go. Besides, perhaps he’s being led to the other egos, maybe some element of himself is being drawn to them. He still knows that he’s a figment, of course, and that being a figment makes him a little more magical than the average human, a little more special, even ignoring his reality-bending powers. Part of him wants to use his writing to get into a locked car and drive to where the magic inside him is leading, but even at this hour, he knows it’d be quicker to walk.

It’s morning by the time Author feels he’s gotten somewhere, nearly a day has passed since he found himself alive again. By now, the streets are once again full of people and cars, and the swelling sounds of conversation and car horns remind him of his trips into the city with Dr. Iplier. His feet finally come to a stop in front of a huge building. It doesn’t look very different from the other corporate skyscrapers standing along the street and stretching into the horizon, but it radiates magic. It’s a beacon, and Author can tell just by looking at it that this is where he’s meant to be, this is the place he’s meant to stay.

He’s startled out of his reverie by someone bumping into him, barking at him to watch it, and moving hurriedly along. Author is disgruntled, but has little time to get angry before yet another person does the same thing. He moves out of the way of traffic to stand under the magical building’s awning, away from the crowd. Amazingly, no one even seems to see him anymore. No one acknowledges him, or even looks at the building Author is standing in front of. Whatever magic it has, humans can’t see it. Perhaps that’s the point, perhaps the building’s magic is keeping it hidden. Author can’t help but be impressed. If he’s right, it must be Dark and Wilford’s doing; no one else would have enough power. Still, keeping a building shrouded constantly would take a lot of energy, and though Dark and Wilford are powerful, they aren’t powerful enough for something as big as this as far as Author remembers.

As if he needed more confirmation that it’s been a long time since he last existed.

Still, he’s made it to where he wants to be, and he’s not about to stop moving forward now. He walks to the door, pushes the double-doors open, and steps inside.

The doors open up into a wide lobby, high-ceilinged. Off to one side is another set of doors, wooden and old-looking. There’s quite a few other, more typical doors along the back wall, a couple labeled that lead to staircases and some without labels that likely lead to other rooms. There’s also an elevator in the center of the wall. The lobby is much bigger than the outside of the building would suggest, and Author has to assume it’s more magic at work. He has no more time to wonder, because one of the unlabeled doors opens.

Out steps another man, with hair swooped low and orange sunglasses and a tank top with the Bing logo on it, of all things. He stops mid-step at the sight of Author, and Author can’t help but pause, too. He doesn’t know who this person is, but he can tell he’s a figment. Not only that, there’s something too familiar in his hair, his face, his height. This figment is another one of Mark’s.

Author already felt like he’d found the right place, but now he knows for sure.

“Woah, how’d you get in here??” asks the figment, walking up to Author as his shock gives way to confusion. “Wait, are you a new ego?”

“You could say that,” Author replies with a shrug.

“Oh, sick!” the figment exclaims, now grinning with excitement. He reaches out to shake Author’s hand, and his grip is stronger than Author expects. “My name’s Bingiplier, but like, everyone calls me Bing. What’s your name, dude?”

“The Author,” Author answers, a little bewildered by Bing’s energy. Granted, he certainly seems like someone Mark would conjure up as a joke, but most of the true joke egos barely lasted a week.

“Oh cool, you write and stuff?” Bing asks. He frowns for a moment. “I gotta admit, though, I’m totally blanking on what video you’re from. I don’t watch all of Mark’s videos, but like, I don’t think anyone was expecting a newbie to show up soon.”

“I do write,” Author replies, though his mind is buzzing with the new information. No one’s expecting him? Then how is he here? “I can reality-bend with writing. I write it, and it happens.”

“Nice!” Bing says, “That’s, like, super-powerful. We haven’t had a real reality-bender show up in ages. Actually, your deal kinda reminds me of The–”

“Hey.”

A monotone voice, deeper than Bing’s, interrupts. Author and Bing both look to see someone else approaching. Author can’t help but grin, because this is an ego he recognizes. Googleplier’s hair is still long and shaggy, he still has his glasses, and even though figments don’t truly age, he looks older somehow, more mature. He’s not glitching the way he did when Author knew him, and his jaw is stronger, his stature more imposing. It takes a moment for Google to see Author past Bing, and it takes a moment more for him to register what he’s seeing. His eyes widen behind his glasses.

“Author? Seriously?” Google asks, incredulous.

“Wait, you know about him? Did I just miss the memo on a new ego coming or something?” Bing whines before glaring at Google. “Are you here for an actual reason, or just to butt into my conversation?”

“Ollie wants you, you won’t answer his pings, and the others are still charging,” Google answers, deadpan. Bing pauses a moment, face screwed up in confusion, before understanding slowly dawns.

“Oh, he did ping me. I was busy talking to the new guy.”

“Ping you?” Author interjects.

“Oh yeah, I’m an android!” Bing says brightly. “So’s Google, but he’s just the old default.”

“Leave already before you get dismantled,” Google growls at Bing, but his eyes don’t leave Author.

“Ugh, fine,” Bing sighs. He flashes Author a peace sign as he walks away. “See ya round, dude!”

Google waits until Bing is out of sight before approaching The Author.

“How are you here?” he asks, more bewildered than Author has ever seen him.

“You tell me,” Author scoffs, “You were always the know-it-all. All I know is that one second I didn’t exist, and the next second I did.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a day? Popped into the woods where my cabin used to be.” Author stares hard at Google. “How long has it been? Since Dark tore my eyes out?”

Google hesitates for a long moment before responding.

“Six years,” he says.

Author’s jaw drops.

“Six years??” he gasps.

“Six years,” Google repeats. “It’s 2021, now.”

“When did Bing show up?”

“2017. Four years ago.” Google thinks for a moment. “Technically, that makes him older than you.”

Google’s right. Author was only a couple years old when Dark killed him. At this point, he’s been dead longer than he’s been alive.

“Jesus Christ,” Author mutters. He can hardly wrap his head around it.

“Jesus Christ is right,” Google growls, “How the hell did you get here? You died. You faded away.”

“I already told you I don’t know!” Author snaps. Google gives him a look like he doesn’t believe him. “Look, I appeared, I felt the urge to come here, and now here I am. So now what?”

“Now I have to take you to Dark.”

“Yeah, no. I remember how our last interaction went.”

“You have to,” Google sighs, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Every new ego has to meet with him–”

“I’m not new.”

“–And besides, nothing in this building happens without him knowing. I don’t like dealing with him either, but I’m not about to get in trouble for not telling him about you.”

“No choice, huh?” Author sighs. “Alright, let’s get this over with, I guess.”

Google leads Author to the elevator in silence. He presses the button for the sixth floor – the highest one – as Author thinks.

Six years. He still can’t conceive of it. Even for a normal human that’s a decent chunk of time, but for a figment, it’s like a lifetime. Plenty of figments don’t even make it to six years old…though clearly, Google and Dark have, and Author has to wonder who else has. Six years and six floors of this building means a lot of new people.

“Figures you and Dark stuck around,” Author muses to Google, “The fans always do love the grumpy ones. And now there’s Bing, and that “Ollie” and the “others” you mentioned…”

“That would be Oliver, Chrome, and Plus,” Google says, “The three of them are androids, other Google units, in fact.” That fact makes Author bark out a laugh.

“You got clones, now??” he snorts, “That’s awesome. Think I could borrow one for a story?”

“No.” Google’s response is instant, paired with eyes glowing icy blue.

“Alright, alright,” Author sighs, “Six years and you still haven’t gotten a sense of humor.” He pauses for a moment. “How many of us are there now?”

Last Author recalls, there were eight, including himself. Google barely needs a moment to mentally calculate it before he has an answer.

“Twenty-one,” Google answers.

“Twenty-one??” Author exclaims, jaw dropping.

“Twenty-two, now, with you. There’d be even more, but some have faded away.”

“Is anyone I knew gone now?”

“No, the oldest ones are still here.”

That means Dr. Iplier is still here. Author can’t help but feel relieved. He’s not sure what he’d do if he found out Dr. Iplier had faded away sometime during his absence. He’s so cheered by the thought that he forgets why he’s in the elevator until it finally stops at the top floor.

Right. Dark’s still here, too.

“I’ve already sent Dark an internal ping,” Google says as he leads Author out of the elevator. “He’s expecting you now.”

“Snitch,” Author mutters under his breath. Google rolls his eyes, but he chooses not to respond verbally.

The pair pass several doors as they walk, and Author wonders how many of them lead into the bedrooms of egos he hasn’t met. He wonders what Dark is like now. After all, Google seems to have barely changed aside from no longer glitching constantly. But he remembers how the people outside couldn’t even see this building, remembers the sheer size of the place, and knows that Dark must be much more powerful than he used to be to be able to pull it off. Too soon, Google and Author arrive at a door that’s much nicer than the others so far. Google knocks, something that the Google Author remembers would hardly ever do.

“Come in,” says a deep voice from inside. An older voice, but the same one that Author remembers well.

Google opens the door, and The Author steps inside.

Dark is not like Google. He doesn’t look the same as he did before. His hair is longer, swooped to the side. His eyes are still deep brown, nearly black. He’s wearing a suit and tie now, his skin is gray. Most striking is his aura. Where it used to be minimal, only wisps of smoke that showed themselves occasionally, it is now a swarming mass of writhing black tendrils surrounding him. It shakes even as Dark stares evenly at Author from behind a large wooden desk. Dark’s expression is cool and calm, and his hands are folded on his desk, but there’s tension in his shoulders and a hardness in his eyes.

“You’re dismissed, Google,” Dark says to Google, “But do not mention this to anyone.”

Author glances at Google, who nods and leaves, closing the door behind him, leaving Author and Dark alone.

“So,” Author says breezily, pushing down and hiding his discomfort. He’s not scared, but he does feel awkward, and a little annoyed to have to see Dark at all. “Nice place you got here.” He flops into a chair in front of Dark’s desk. “I hear there’s twenty-two of us now, crazy how time flies.”

“Exactly how did you come back?” Dark asks, without a hint of humor.

“I told Google like three times, I don’t know!” Author says, his annoyance getting the better of him. He takes a breath and calms before continuing. “I don’t know. I woke up in a forest, the same one where my cabin is. Or used to be, it’s just houses there now. I hitched a ride to the city and walked until I got here. It’s been about a day since I woke up.”

“I see.” Dark sighs, leaning back slightly in his seat. “This has never happened before.”

“I’ve gathered that.” Author frowns at Dark. “I might as well address the elephant in the room. Are you gonna pull out my eyes again or what?”

“No,” Dark answers, voice tight and aura swarming faster, “I will not. Things have changed since then, that is no longer how I deal with unruliness.”

“Is that what you call it?” Author mutters, “‘Dealing with unruliness?’ Does that make you feel justified for killing me?”

“You’ve been gone for six years,” Dark snaps, “Don’t pretend you know anything!” All at once, Dark’s form cracks, a shadow of himself turns away to scream in frustration. The scream is cut short, the whole thing lasts only a moment. Despite himself, Author nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What the hell was that!?” he shouts.

Dark settles himself, chuckling quietly. His aura calms somewhat, but it continues to churn the air.

“As I said, things have changed.” Dark rolls his neck, it cracks like the vertebrae are clacking against each other. “To put it in a way you would understand, my story has been rewritten in recent years. There’s a lot for you to catch up on.”

“I’ll pass,” Author retorts, “I’m not about to stick around here with you.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice.” Dark’s eyes go steely. “You may have guessed from the large number of us that Mark is much more popular than he used to be, which means we need to be more careful. You recall my desire to unite us all in a single building.”

“The building I died in, right?” Author snaps.

“Yes,” Dark replies coldly, undeterred by Author’s attempt to fluster him. “This building, in fact. The more popular Mark gets, the more recognizable we become, and the more vital it is for us to avoid attention. This building is imbued with magic to prevent humans from seeing or entering, and there are rules about the ways in which we may interact with them.”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t write my stories–”

“You can write as many stories as you like,” Dark says smoothly, “And you may use humans as…protagonists, if you so choose. But your stories may not be published, and you may not develop close relationships with humans.”

“And if I break the rules?”

“You get to visit my void.” Dark grins. “A place made of pitch, so dark you cannot see your hand in front of your face, cold and just quiet enough to hear its voices. It only takes a few hours to break someone weak. For someone strong, maybe a week.” He tilts his head. “I suspect a day or two in there, with no one to control and nothing to do, will drive you mad. At the end of a week you’d be tearing off your own skin just to feel.”

Author wants to scoff at the dramatics, but there’s something in Dark’s eyes and posture that makes him believe it.

“What if I leave anyway?” Author asks, “Strike out far away and find my own place?”

“Then you’ll have all twenty-one of us looking for you, whether actively searching or keeping an eye out. Once you’re found, the punishment would be immense. We’ve had egos run off before. The longest one ever stayed lost was eighteen days. Perhaps you could last longer, but your punishment would be that much longer as well. And if my void does not deter you, there’s a holding cell in the basement that’s designed to cancel out magic and keep figments contained indefinitely, where you can stay until you come to your senses.”

Author glowers, considering. It’s clear that he has no choice but to go along with the arrangement, but he’s too stubborn to give in yet.

“Any other rules I should know about?” he asks derisively, “Is there a dress code? Do I have to ask you if I want dessert after dinner?”

Dark glares at Author for a long moment.

“My, not even death could change you.”

He lets his own words hang in the air before continuing.

“The other main rule here is that you cannot harm another ego. Self-defense or defense of another ego won’t be punished, but aggression and attacks will.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one who tore my eyes out,” Author growls.

“You can watch your attitude,” Dark snaps, voice dangerous and aura waving wildly. “I’m still the leader, and you still need to respect me. You may not have changed, but I have, and I am much stronger than you can imagine. If you continue to draw my ire, you will find out just how much stronger I’ve become.”

Dark wasn’t nearly this imposing back in Author’s heyday. He didn’t have this maturity, this intimidating tone of voice, this simmering rage that only shows itself in bursts. He used to be pettier, whiny, more mean than cruel. There was a reason Author didn’t fear him, and it was that he could tell, clear as day, that Dark was threatened by him. But the Dark that sits before Author now is not threatened. He’s angry, but not defensive. He means every word he’s said to Author, and Author knows that Dark will make him regret pushing his buttons if he persists.

So he stays silent for a long moment, and Dark’s aura gradually calms, and his expression smooths back out.

“Good, we understand each other,” he says, “Now, you need to meet the other egos. I’ll call a meeting for the others.”

“Google said the others I was around with are still here,” Author says, remembering, “Are they coming, too?”

“Yes,” Dark says, “But their meeting alerts will have…context. They’ll know it’s you before they arrive.” He sighs then, raises a hand to rub his forehead. “Speaking of context, there’s something you should know before this meeting occurs.”

“What’s that?” Author asks, curious. Perhaps a little nervous, given Dark’s behavior, but he’d never admit it.

“After you died, a new ego appeared, one who looked somewhat like you, who had no eyes. It came about that he had all your memories, but he wasn’t you, isn’t you. His name is The Host, and as far as we all knew…you became him, you were reborn as him.”

Author thought he was done being surprised, being shocked. But this revelation is the worst of all. He became someone else? There’s an ego here that has his same history, and the six years he missed on top of that? A clone like Google has, but one that has a different life, has a life at all. Someone who’s The Author, but isn’t. Someone The Author was supposed to be. The one who came from the ashes of Author’s death. While he spent six years in darkness, this other him, this Host, was living the life that should’ve been his. It only gets worse the more Dark explains. Author hardly perceives Dark’s words, but he perceives their meaning, especially when another name is mentioned. The shock builds and deepens.

It’s not enough that Host now has Author’s body, his memories, his life.

He has his love, too.

His doctor.

Dark explains that Dr. Iplier and Host have been in a relationship for years, and something inside Author crumbles.

This is the man he was so excited to see again, the man he’d hoped he could start over with once he found him. He’d dreamed of that on his long walk to the building, dreamed of Dr. Iplier lighting up at the sight of him, dreamed of them both apologizing to each other for how they ended things, dreamed of them reconnecting, rekindling, loving each other all over again. But the dream shatters further the more Dark speaks, and the more Dark speaks, the more Author’s vision tunnels and the louder the blood rushes in his ears. Dr. Iplier didn’t wait for him. He moved on. He moved on with this facsimile of Author, and did so a long time ago.

Author doesn’t hear what else Dark says, he’s too busy thinking. But no matter how much he thinks the situation over, he can’t accept it. He won’t allow this ache in his chest, this burning in the back of his eyes. Dr. Iplier may have moved on, but some part of him must still love Author, if he moved on with the newer version of him. The way they loved each other was like nothing else, even six years later there’s no way Dr. Iplier has forgotten Author, has forgotten what their love felt like, has stopped missing it. Author will find his way back to him somehow, fix their relationship and fix his own breaking heart.

There has to be a reason Author came back to life. There’s no possible way him and Dr. Iplier could end like this. And Author may be a lot of things, but he’s not a quitter.

He can’t give up on Dr. Iplier, his heart won’t let him.

#markiplier fanfiction #the author #markiplier the author #dr. iplier #darkiplier #my writing #fanfic #markiplier #at my worst #how many chapters will there be? who knows! not me XD #i'm hype for this tho owo #poor author; getting blueballed by himself from the future/present :/

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redvoid-40 · 3 years

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Check

Well, this is a continuation of sorts to my previous FyodorxOC snippet, A Game for a Kiss. It has bee sitting on my Drive for a few weeks now. It’s not the whole lemon, but it’s enough for me to post it with its own trigger-warnings. >.<

TW: NSFW content, a bit of manhandling and a bit of misogynist thoughts.

Hope it’s enough to stave off the thirst for our feral rat-man while I work on some other projects. Maybe I’ll get back and finish this. =.=

Enjoy!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Fyodor let out a deep exhale as his body fell back on his chair, neck rolling over his shoulders in a poor attempt to relieve the tension built up from spending hours in front of multiple monitors. Finding Mary’s ability, Adam, was proving to be a challenge, even though he knew to look for him with the members of the Detective Agency.

No doubt Dazai has his grubby fingers all over him, Fyodor mused with a crooked smile as his brain quickly made a bridge from Adam to Mary and the little indiscretions he had shared with her until now. He thought of how she had kissed him after their game of chess in the library, how he ran his hand up and down her thigh as they had afternoon tea while Eric Blair sat just across from them, and more recently how he accosted her back inside the library, pressing himself flush against her back as he pretended to look for a book on the upper shelves.

The memories alone made his cock twitch inside his pants, so Fyodor pushed them to the back of his mind to focus on his work instead. Despite their proclivities, Fyodor couldn’t let himself forget their relationship was supposed to be professional and that he was being paid - rather handsomely at that - by Eric Blair to provide them a service. And while that service was nothing more than a front that would blow up in the older gentleman’s face as it provided Fyodor the opportunity to better evaluate the Detective Agency’s capabilities, the Russian still had to play his part with diligence.

With a sigh, Fyodor pulled open a drawer to retrieve a half-empty bottle of vodka and a glass to pour himself a generous “pick-me-up”. He downed the drink quickly, face placid despite the burning that followed the liquid running down his throat. His eyes perused the multiple tabs on his monitor that showed live feed of the comings and goings in the streets of Yokohama, especially on the places frequented by the Detective Agency. He saw the detectives multiple times in the last 16 hours, but still no sight of Adam.

Thankfully, he had made great strides on his bot-programs. A few more hours and he’d be able to dump this menial task on technology instead of wasting his time on watch-duty.

“Excuse me,” Ivan called, knocking softly on the door. Fyodor hummed, swirling his chair to watch the door open for the man; he was carrying a tray with tea and pastries and his smile lit up his face as his eyes fell on Fyodor. “Our hosts are enjoying their afternoon tea at the gardens, so I brought you something to snack on as well. You should take a break.”

Ivan, always so dutiful, so grateful, Fyodor thought, smiling. As endearing as he is overbearing.

Still, the simple mention of their gracious hosts brought back the thoughts of Mary he had just pushed to the back of his mind, and suddenly Fyodor couldn’t bear to stay in this small, dark, stuffy room anymore. Maybe it was the vodka, but he felt ridiculously hot.

“There’s nowhere to put the tray, Ivan,” Fyodor pointed out, pushing away from his set up. “But I think I need some time away from these screens. Let’s join everyone.”

Ivan’s ever-present smile faltered, making Fyodor’s own grow into a crescent. “Is there a problem, Ivan?” He asked, though he knew the answer.

“Not at all, sir. Sounds like a good idea,” Ivan said, pulling the door further open for Fyodor. “I’ll just take these back to the kitchens, then.”

“You do that,” Fyodor said as he floated by the other man with a giddy lightness on his steps. Last time he sat at a table with Mary and someone else, he kept his palm resting high on her thigh and underneath her skirt, little finger teasing the elastic of her panties as his eyes enjoyed the dusting of pink that bloomed on her cheeks.

Fyodor sauntered through the mansion’s corridors, making a straight line to the gardens, when Nikolai appeared in front of him. The clown smiled widely, in a way Fyodor didn’t appreciate.

“Quiz time,” Nikolai sang as he walked by the other man. “Where in the world is Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley? What is she waiting for? Or who?”

Fyodor’s steps didn’t pause or slow down, but when he reached the end of the corridor, instead of following the path Nikolai had made and that would take him to the gardens, he turned right towards the main hall, to the stairs that would lead him to the private quarters.

The lightness in his steps morphed into purpose as he marched to Mary’s door. He didn’t knock and he didn’t hesitate before pushing it open, only to find an empty room waiting for him. It gave Fyodor whiplash, causing his eyes to widen at being surprised for maybe the third or fourth time in his life. Had Nikolai misled him with those stupid, annoying quizzes of his? Just because he dressed as a clown, did he think everything around him was a fucking joke?

No, he lives for these little things. These little soap bubbles of human drama that threaten to burst open and drip into the eyes of people around them, Fyodor thought, shaking his head slightly. It was Mary; it could only be her, with that infuriatingly delightful way of frustrating his expectations.

Fyodor raised his thumb to his lips as he slammed the door close and marched away from Mary’s bedroom, making a straight line to the library, wherein they had shared their latest encounter and also enjoyed a wonderful game of chess that was followed by an even more wonderful heavy petting session a few days ago. Certainly, if she were to wait for him somewhere in this mansion, the library would be it, right?

Wrong. The library was as empty as her bedroom, making Fyodor bite hard on the pad of his thumb in frustration and stain his pristine white shirt with a few drops of blood, just like anger stained his previous giddiness.

Where the fuck-

Fyodor’s train of thought halted.

Could it be? She wouldn’t be so bold. Would she?

Fyodor’s purple eyes widened and his shoulders dropped as he closed the library’s door, much more softly than he had done with the one in Mary’s bedroom. With a sigh, he looked down at himself, at the blood staining his shirt, and immediately stopped chewing on his thumb to suckle on it instead, in hopes the bleeding would stop before he’d reach his next destination.

This time, Fyodor’s steps were languid as he made his way through the mansion’s corridors, back where he had come from, up to the wing destined to their private quarters. Only, this time, he passed by Mary’s room without a glance; just kept walking and walking until he reached his own door.

He took his thumb off his mouth, nostrils flaring when he found his thumb was still bleeding.

Oh well, he thought, whipping his thumb on the front of his shirt, further staining it with red before also leaving a bloody fingerprint on the doorknob. Fyodor opened the door to his bedroom, and at last found Mary Shelley. The doctor was barefooted, sitting comfortably on his windowsill and enjoying the warm sunlight as she stared at the book atop her crossed legs with furrowed eyebrows, mouthing words he couldn’t hear.

Fyodor should feel wary and downright wrathful at the invasion of his personal space, even though nothing in this mansion was his - or maybe everything, everyone was, and they just didn’t know it. However, the turmoil inside him was immediately smothered by the sight of Mary sitting barely three feet away from his bed. The vision was titillating; it made a predatory smile pull at the corner of his lips.

He didn’t worry about Mary going through his things; he doubted she’d ever be so daring, and it wasn’t like he’d ever be stupid enough to keep anything worthy searching in that room. Besides, he could always watch his private security footage later on.

For now, he had something much more entertaining to enjoy, something live and alive that flew into his territory without knowing how dangerous it could be.

Or maybe she knows exactly what she’s getting into, Fyodor thought as he stopped behind her, bending at the waist to whisper in Mary’s ear.

“What are you reading?”

The woman gasped, shoulders tensing at the sudden gust of warm air caressing her ear as she turned her neck to look at the man over her shoulder as if he was the one intruding in her space and not the way around. Though, when her eyes made out Fyodor towering over her, they immediately fell to his lips, darkening until they were almost black with longing. Fyodor wondered if, in the end, she would be the one to devour him and not the other way around.

“It’s more of a picture book, really,” Mary answered, turning back to the book open in her lap. Fyodor followed her gaze, eyes widening slightly at finding a picture of the beautiful tulips of the Gorky Park in Moscow with a brief text describing its history written in Russian. “I found it in the library. It’s an image guide for tourist attractions in Moscow. The photos are beautiful, and the descriptions are simple enough for me to decipher.”

Fyodor’s smile dropped slightly as a hand reached over her shoulder to run over the bright-coloured tulips on the page. “You speak Russian?” He mumbled.

“Not at all,” the woman replied with laughter. “I’ve been trying to learn a bit since Eric told me you’d be helping us, and it’s been very slow progress. The spoken word is a complete mystery to me, but I can read a little. There are many words I haven’t learned yet, but I can make out the general idea of simple texts like this.”

Mary turned to stare at Fyodor’s profile, and her smile dropped at the far-off look in his eyes as he stared at the photo. “Do you miss it?” She asked.

Fyodor sighed. “Life wasn’t easy there. Still…”

Mary’s hand reached up to lay gently over his cheek, pulling his attention from his mind to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought this.”

Fyodor fixed his eyes on Mary’s dark ones, incapable of turning away even if he wanted to. The longer you stare into the abyss, he thought ruefully as he grabbed a fistful of black, silky hair. His hold was firm, but uncharacteristically careful not to pull on any strand in a way that could cause discomfort.

“What are you doing here, Mary?” Fyodor asked, letting his eyes dance all over her features, enjoying her dilated pupils, savouring the pink on her cheeks and longing for her pouty lips.

“I wanted to see you,” she admitted without hesitation or shame, and just an inkling of trepidation. “I wanted to be alone with y-”

Fyodor slammed his mouth over Mary’s, swallowing her words as his other hand encircled her neck, putting just enough pressure to prompt her to stand up, uncaring of the book that dropped to the floor as he pressed her against the wall.

The Russian moaned, upper body folding over Mary’s in search of heat and pressure as he pushed his knee between her legs and ground his thigh against the warmth of her clothed pussy. Meanwhile, Mary’s arms sneaked up his body, taking a moment to appreciate the planes of his chest before wrapping around his neck as one hand reached up to take off his hat and place it on the windowsill.

“Get over here,” Fyodor growled as he pulled Mary back with him to the bed. “Sit on my lap. Like before.”

Mary complied, climbing over his thighs as his hands groped her ass. This time his hold was bruising as he urged her to grind hard against his cock, drawing moans from both of them. Purple eyes fixed on dark brown as Fyodor cupped Mary’s jaw with his hand, thumb hovering over her swollen lips, teasing them until they opened on their own volition to suck the digit into the wetness of her mouth.

Fyodor exhaled through his nostrils as a wide grin stretched on his lips. He pushed his thumb deeper into her mouth as he applied pressure on her jaw, forcing it open just enough for him to shove his tongue back inside. Her mouth tasted of Earl Grey and lemon-poppy scones; he wondered how the rest of her would taste.

With that thought consuming him, Fyodor pulled back slightly, a thick string of saliva connecting their mouths. His eyes fell down further, past her lips, until he was staring directly at her breasts and how the buttons of her button-up tank top strained to hold them in place. The image caused him to lick his lips as his long fingers began undoing the buttons of her top, from the bottom up, and one at a time. When Mary moved to help him, he slapped her hands away.

“Don’t,” he chided, smiling darkly at the gasp that escaped her. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while now. Let me enjoy it.”

Slowly, Fyodor made his way up, until the halves of her shirt fell open to reveal a perfectly sensible white bra that, to the man’s absolute delight, opened in the front.

“You came prepared,” he said as he undid the clasp, letting the cups fly open to reveal the prettiest breasts Fyodor had ever seen in his life.

Gently, almost reverently, he cupped the left breast and planted a soft kiss on the rosy nipple before opening his mouth to flatten his tongue over it. Purple eyes looked up at Mary’s face, and he moaned at the look of pure bliss on her half-lidded gaze as she stared back at him.

“Fyodor…” Mary moaned as her fingers entwined around his hair, applying gentle pressure. “Please-”

How could he ever deny such sweet supplication?

Fyodor’s fingers tightened around the flesh of Mary’s breast as his mouth opened wide to engulf her nipple. Teeth worrying the erect nub, he suckled hard on her flesh, stretching the skin as his other arm circled Mary’s back, disallowing any notion of escape she could entertain.

“F-Fyodor!” Mary whined, sounding like a wounded animal. But her hands didn’t push him off; instead, they only tightened in his hair, pulling the strands with the exact amount of force to keep him on the line between pleasure and pain. And to make everything worse - or better, so much better - she continued to undulate her hips against his cock in a steady rhythm.

Fyodor growled, sucking harder before pulling out with a loud pop. He took a second to admire his work, smiling at the reddened and swollen nub before diving in to give the same treatment to her other breast as his fingers pinched the abused nipple. Mary’s hold on him tightened as her whimpers escalated, urging Fyodor to double his efforts until she was pushing against him in overstimulation that bordered on pain.

Satisfied, Fyodor bit his way up her neck, leaving teeth marks and bruises over the pale column of her throat as he made his way to her ear.

“On your back,” he growled, twisting his body to throw Mary over his pillows, uncaring that her shirt and bra were still hanging open over her shoulders.

Smiling, Fyodor sat back between her legs, committing to memory the image of Mary splayed over his bed, looking absolutely debauched and ready to be devoured. He was about to do just the later when she shot up, hands reaching out to grab the lapels of his shirt.

“Off,” she said, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons of his shirt. He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t move to help. Fyodor didn’t remember any of his past trysts ever being so excited at the prospect of skin-to-skin contact, and he found he quite enjoyed having someone so eager to put their hands on him. Let her work for it, he thought, smiling widely as his shirt finally came undone, floating down his arms before the woman peeled it off him and chucked it somewhere to the side.

Fyodor was not what someone could call athletic; he was thin and wiry and ghostly pale. But Mary still looked at him with unashamed want as her warm hands danced over the muscles of his abdomen and pectorals.

“You’re like a marble statue,” Mary whispered, staring at him as her hands framed his face. “So beautiful.”

This again, Fyodor thought, feeling something warm burst in his chest. This softness, this warmth… what’s the point? Fyodor didn’t know what to do with freely given praise and blatant desire; he knew only how to buy people and manipulate them into doing his will against their own.

So he pushed Mary roughly back onto the bed before she could kiss him again and steer him further in this uncharted territory. The Russian made quick work of her skirt and panties, pulling them down her legs with haste before grabbing her thighs and pushing them wide apart, opening her cunt for his hungry eyes without giving Mary a chance to protest.

Fyodor’s breath caught in his throat at the pink folds spread open for him, already glistening with so much arousal he bet he could shove his whole fist inside her with a bit of patience.

“Fyodor?” Mary called to him, voice trembling in a way that he didn’t quite enjoy.

Easy, Fyodor thought as he let out a shuddering breath; purple eyes jumped to Mary’s face, taking in her wide-eyed stare for what it was: fear. Easy, he told himself again as his fingers tightened around the soft flesh of her thighs, wanting nothing more than to tear her open inside out. Easy, he chanted one last time as he let down her legs and folded his body over her until the tip of his nose touched hers.

He had never tried to be soft with anyone before, never cared if his desires scared or bruised his filthy partners as long as he took what he wanted from them in the end. But Fyodor had also never been with someone like Mary before, someone who’d seek his company without promises of material rewards or emotional manipulation, someone who had nothing to gain from letting him use their body, other than using his body back in the best possible way.

Fyodor smiled, hoping it would soothe her as much as her own smile soothed him, even though his personal history attested against such wishful thinking.

“Got a bit excited there,” Fyodor whispered, planting butterfly kisses all over her face as a way of apology.

“You looked angry,” Mary said worriedly. “Are you uncomfortable with me? Do you want to stop?”

Fyodor pulled back slightly with a raised eyebrow, unbelieving she’d worry about him after he had treated her like that; like she was one of those tramps who’d spend nights on their feet around corners of the worst parts of town for some quick cash. As if she was like the others he had taken before.

Fyodor put a smile back on his face, combing Mary’s hair behind her ear. “I never want to stop,” he said, and if those words inflamed her apprehensions, Mary didn’t show. Instead, she smiled at him and ghosted her lips over his, gentle as a rose petal.

Fyodor shut his eyes tightly as he held back from pressing against Mary until their teeth clashed.

Easy.

He wanted nothing more than to pull his fly open and piston inside Mary with no preamble or preparation, like he usually did. But he also wanted to spoil her rotten, have her come apart in his mouth and fingers before even thinking of pulling his cock out of his pants, like he had never done before.

It took everything he had to commit to the later.

With a quick nip of Mary’s bottom lip, Fyodor pulled back and made his way down her body, taking a moment to kiss every single bruise he had left on her neck and pretty nipples, all red and swollen from his rough treatment before. He smirked to himself as her body jerked when he dipped his tongue in her navel.

“Ticklish?” He teased, propping his chin on her lower belly as his hands moved beneath her thighs, hugging her hips to him.

Mary propped herself on his pillows to look back at him with an embarrassed smile. “A bit.”

“I’ll save that piece of information for later,” Fyodor promised. “But for now…”

His pupils blew wide as he moved his gaze back to Mary’s pussy, humming in pleasure as his right thumb danced over those pink folds, nuzzling her labia open to admire the vision before him.

“You’re pretty all over, aren’t you?” Fyodor mused, licking his lips.

Truthfully, he had never put his head between another person’s legs before, unwilling to expose himself to the smells and diseases of the filth he costumed to fuck. But Mary was in a league all of her own. Cultured and clean, she was the sort of woman who knew better than to get within a 2-meters radius of someone like him, the sort of woman he’d watch from afar, imagining all the ways he could make her cry if he was ever alone with her.

Oh, the irony, Fyodor thought, letting his lips ghost over Mary’s cunt with pure reverence, savouring the moan that escaped her throat and went straight to his already straining cock. His eyes focused on Mary’s face, committing to memory her glossy eyes, flushed cheeks and parted lips as she looked at him with desire unlike anything he had ever seen.

Once their gazes locked, Fyodor closed his lips over her clit, humming loudly as his tongue ghosted over the swollen nub; the contact so soft it was torturous to Mary.

“Fyodor, please…” she begged, fists clenching around the sheets. “Don’t be mean.”

Mean? Fyodor thought, chuckling against her clit. Mary didn’t know the meaning of the word, didn’t have the slightest idea of how horrible he was when he was being mean.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Fyodor asked, smiling widely as he stared at her twitching cunt. Without warning, he brought his index and middle fingers to her opening, slowly carving a path inside her. Her walls were heavenly, warm and wet, snug and spasming around his digits as they struggled to take his intrusion. “So tight, Mary. You’re not a virgin, are you?” He asked, even though he knew the answer already; could feel it in the little cord that gave away the IUD inside her uterus.

Mary shook her head, chest going up and down rapidly. “It’s just… It’s been a long time.”

“Oh? How long?”

The light blush dusting her cheeks exploded in a bright red that ran down her neck and to the top of her breasts. Fyodor raised an eyebrow at that, fingers going in and out at a leisurely pace.

“How long?” Fyodor repeated, suddenly shoving his long fingers inside of her as deep as possible, pulling a loud moan from deep inside her throat.

“Three years!” She said, arching her back as she pulled on the bedsheets. “It’s been three years… since I was last with someone.”

Fyodor froze, fingers unmoving against the cord peeking out of her cervix. Mary was… breath-taking, with an elegant beauty Fyodor had never seen before, and a brain that could actually challenge him in chess. Which begged the question-

“-How?”

“Adam… was a lot of work,” Mary explained, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. “Keeping my ability out of trouble demanded so much of me, especially while juggling my Core Training in Pathology at St Bart’s. I didn’t have the time to even think about dating. Not that it did me any good, considering I completely lost control of Adam anyway…”

Fyodor should’ve imagined. Unlike most ability-users, Mary understood her sin and strived to take responsibility for it, even at considerable personal cost. And unlike the lascivious masses, she wasn’t the type to overlook her duties to go out and open her legs to just anyone for a quick fix. Mary was a woman of class that somehow fell in bed with a filthy sewer-rat.

And he’d chew her to the bone.

#fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #fyodor x oc #bsd fyodor #ivan goncharov #bsd #oc mary shelley

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professional-idiocy · 3 years

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On Thin Ice - pt. 3

Yeah yeah, I’m slow with stuff. In my defense test week was a bitch and math SUCKS. Especially when you have to deal with this sadistic program called ViLLE that’s supposed be “helpful” with teaching math. If you ever see that name run for the hills.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 - Next

Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whoopsalittlewhumpy, @uncooly-supreme-whump

TW: Mentions drowning and burns. Colby is a huge mess with a lot of issues with self-worth. Also torture cause Rosa is a bitch

Kevin didn’t know what to think. He was sitting on his couch with a sleeping villain snuggled close. He sighed continuing to pet Colby’s hair. At least he didn’t hate him. If he’d just gotten lost earlier Colby wouldn’t have been tortured for months.

He was in way over his head. He didn’t know anything about treating injuries. He’d just copied something he’d seen on TV! He was severely underqualified for this. He was a journalist, he wrote articles, he wasn’t exactly the best for whatever this situation was.

He needed to think. He had a person who’d been tortured. He had evidence of the injuries and the condition he’d found Colby in. He also had evidence it was a hero who’d done this.

He needed to get a doctor to look at Colby. That would definitely be important. Where would he even find a doctor? Especially someone who wouldn’t mind Colby was a villain…

Selena! That was it. She had a doctor friend who would probably be willing to help them. He took out his phone being careful to not wake up Colby continuing to softly pet his hair.

Kevin frowned when some dried blood got stuck in his hand. It made him feel horrible, his sister had done all this. His sister had tortured someone. It made him feel nauseous. Rosa had always stood up and protected him as a kid, but to do this to another person was horrifying…

Enough.

First, he’ll help Colby, and later he needed to ask his sister to explain why he would hurt Colby. Right now the best way to help Colby was to get a doctor here.

He sent Selena a message. He really hoped it wouldn’t go south.

Hey, I’m a pickle right now. Would your doctor friend be willing to help a villain?

I kinda took one in. He was tortured by a hero. Please don’t tell anyone. He’s really fragile rn. Also tell her I’m also willing to pay

Soon enough Selena responded, easing his worries.

You mean Ellie?

Knowing her she will gladly help, especially if the patient is a villain. I blame “the cat” for that.

I’ll text her number tomorrow once I’ve given her a heads up.

It’s 10pm so try to sleep

Kevin sighed in relief. Everything went well and he was also getting tired. He should definitely sleep while he had the chance. The couch was decently comfortable, and he really didn’t want to wake Colby up. He yawned softly while Colby clung to him, sleeping contently.

Kevin shot up hearing a soft yelp combined with a thud. He scanned the room only to find Colby on the floor trembling while crying.

“I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to fall asleep, a- and I’m sorry for waking you up. I didn’t mean to. Please- please believe me I’m sorry” Colby begged kneeling on the floor. Kevin frowned muttering curses under his breath. Rosa had done a number on him and he hated it.

“It’s fine, you aren’t in trouble. I know you must be really stressed but believe me you aren’t in trouble” Kevin said as softly as possible, hoping to get a more positive reaction out of Colby, which it did. Well, to some extent. He fearfully waited before sniffing and wiping away tears.

“I’m sorry”

“I know. Do you wanna get onto the couch for me?” Kevin said softly, trying to get the terrified villain to trust him.

“I can stay on the floor, sir” Kevin frowned at that but as soon as he showed even a hint of displeasure Colby seemed to freeze in fear. He quickly scooped Colby up before sitting him on the couch.

“There you go. It’s much better, right?” Kevin asked as Colby nodded still keeping an eye on him, worried he’d done something wrong.

“I’m going to go make breakfast. Do you have any allergies?” Colby shook his head as Kevin smiled softly petting his hair, which he seemed to enjoy a lot. If leaning into the touch was anything to go by. He got up, leaving for the kitchen, doing his best to ignore how sad Colby looked, making him feel like he’d just abandoned a kitten.

He sighed once he was sure Colby wouldn’t hear or see him. This was going to be a lot of work, but Colby was adorable. First, he needed food for both, then get Colby to take a bath, call Ellie and ask if she could come and take a look at Colby.

Sandwiches would do, right? It’s not like he had anything else here, he was supposed to go to the store yesterday, but Colby had kinda ruined that plan, besides he can just order takeout. He smiled at the sandwiches, they looked like crap. He wasn’t the best in the kitchen, but it would have to do for now.

Colby really didn’t know what to think. Kevin had been so nice even when he’d done something wrong. Miss Rosa would’ve never forgiven him for assuming anything. Instead, Kevin had gently pet his hair and now was making breakfast. He really wanted to know how he needed to repay it all.

He jumped back to awareness when Kevin came back with four sandwiches on two different plates. He tilted his head curiously as Kevin smiled handing him a plate. He held onto the plate confused as Kevin sat next to him eating. Colby mimicked his actions before carefully taking a bite out of the sandwich.

He couldn’t help but to smile. It was amazing and tasted so good! He really wanted to repay him already. If he didn’t, he would be horrible and selfish. He gulped the sandwich down before carefully turning to Kevin. He didn’t know what Kevin wanted for this. He froze as Kevin just pet his hair smiling softly. It was nice.

Colby took the other sandwich, carefully trying to stuff it on Kevin’s plate. Maybe Kevin would like it if he gave him the food back? He was full anyway and didn’t deserve this much. Kevin smiled as Colby finally got the sandwich to fit.

“Are you full already?” Kevin asked softly and Colby nodded. He smiled taking the sandwich and putting it back on Colby’s plate, much to his surprise, but he didn’t hopefully let it show.

“You know you can save the sandwich for later. You don’t need to give it to me” Colby let his expression slip into one of surprise before nodding. So that wouldn’t work. He couldn’t just give his food to Kevin. So, he needed to find another way to repay him for the mercy he’d been shown.

“I- I can take care of the dishes” Colby said, trembling softly. He needed- no he wanted to be useful.

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it, after I’ve prepared a bath for you and then we’ll check on the wounds” Kevin said as Colby nodded quickly before he could hesitate. Kevin got up leaving for what Colby assumed was the bathroom.

He sat on the couch, mind racing through all the scenarios. A bath meant water and Kevin could use water to hurt him in so many ways. Kevin could hold his head underwater and he knew he was too weak to resist. Cold water could cause shock and hypothermia, but if the water was too hot, he’d be burned.

He deserved it though, unlike the people he’d hurt for Alaric. He was just doing as ordered but he’d hurt people. He didn’t even remember their names or faces. They were all just people Alaric had wanted information from.

Miss Rosa was right.

He really was a monster.

A simple “Are you alright?” broke through his thoughts making him snap into attention. No-one had asked that before. It made him feel warm and fuzzy.

“I mean, you were crying just now” Kevin said softly as Colby blinked before quickly wiping the tears away.

“I’m fine” he whispered weakly as his voice escaped him. Kevin smiled ruffling his hair. Maybe he just needed to be small and cute for Kevin? He did seem to like it when he snuggled close. It that was the case, he really didn’t mind the warmth and closeness of another person.

“Alright then. I got the bath ready, but do you need help? I mean you can barely walk” Kevin asked awkwardly as Colby watched him carefully.

“I can’t put much weight on my legs, but I’ll be fine. You don’t have to waste your time with me”

“Alright” Kevin said picking Colby up who clung to him in surprise “I already prepared everything and left clothes you can borrow” Colby nodded clinging to Kevin in confusion. He didn’t really know what Kevin wanted and it was best to not speculate too much. He knew for a fact Kevin wanted him to be entertaining thanks to Miss Rosa’s clue since he’d be returned when he became boring.

He needed to avoid that.

Kevin sighed taking a sip out of his tea. He really didn’t know a thing about this. He’d called Ellie who’d promised to come tomorrow to take a look and give him some advice. It was reassuring but he really hoped Colby was fine he’d left him to take care of himself. He should be fine, but it still worried him. Colby was practically helpless in his current state.

As soon as he thought that he heard a soft thud just outside the bathroom. He put his tea down on the table rushing to the bathroom only to see Colby on the floor, helplessly looking up at him. He’d never noticed it before due to all the dried blood, but he was way too thin! He was literally nothing but skin and bones!

Was his sister always this cruel?

It was disgusting to think Rosa would do something like this. His thoughts were brought to a halt as Colby looked up at him in terror before beginning to cry and apologize for bothering him.

He looked so small and fragile as the too large shirt kept slipping off his shoulder. Why would Rosa hurt someone like him? He looked so small and young as he trembled looking at him in terror.

Wait, did Colby think he was mad at him?

Shit.

He knelt in front of Colby as he watched in fear of something. This whole situation made him feel terrible, confused, and icky. He needed to do something.

“Shhh, it’s fine you did nothing wrong” he said softly as Colby just kept crying softly still apologizing. He reached out to run a hand through Colby’s hair only for Colby to suddenly cling to him.

“Please, I know I might be a bit troublesome but please don’t give me back to Miss Rosa. I’ll promise I’ll do my best to repay you” He begged clinging to him, Kevin held him close, gently wiping away Colby’s tears as he watched silently in a mix of surprise and fear.

“It’s fine. I’m not giving you back to her, ever” He said as Colby breathed a sigh of relief before snuggling closer to Kevin. He would never let this precious bean be hurt again.

#whump #whump writing #original whump #On Thin Ice #you're stuck in here with me pal #implied torture tw #torture tw #villain whumpee #civilian caretaker #hero villain whump #original writing

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hurting-fictional-people · 4 years

Text

Day two

Just a quick disclaimer: I tried to read about blood loss and stuff to make this as accurate as possible but in the end, the real scientific and completely medically precise source used to describe how Noah feels is how bad I feel after drawing blood when I can’t eat beforehand. So just ignore the medical inaccuracies please hsdjfhj

CW: lab whump, medical setting, needles, drawing blood, manhandling, restraints, muzzle

“Mr. Reeve, the doctor has requested you.”

It was weird how, sometimes, words felt physical. Noah was sitting on the bed one moment, trying to talk to his roommate – who kept dodging his questions –, and in the next, he was up and backing away to the wall farthest from the door and the guards waiting there, hands raised in surrender as a shiver ran through his body.

Even though he could hear his heart racing and feel his stomach churning, Noah grinned at the guards and crooned “You can go and tell dear dr. Carver to shove his request up his– “

Before he could finish, three guards hovered over him. Unforgiving hands grabbed his arms and hauled him out of the room, jerking in the tight grip.

Maverick, who had kept mostly to himself as Noah tried to get him to spill out everything he knew about the facility, stood up with a frown and called his name, but Noah was left guessing what he was about to say as the doors locked them each in one side.

He thrashed and kicked for half of the way before giving up.

“Fine, I’ll stop fighting, you guys can let me go. I’ll lose my arms if you keep cutting off my circulation like this.”

As soon as the hands left his arms, though, Noah darted forward. The hallways were endless and identical, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least try to leave.

Noah didn’t even get to the corner before he was thrown to the ground face-first, avoiding breaking his nose by turning his head in the last possible second, hands held behind him and a knee on his back. A high-pitched yelp escaped his lips as the guard barked at his ear, “done with the antics, kid?”

He nodded against the cold tile. The man pulled him up but didn’t let go of his arms, still painfully twisted behind his back. Noah groaned, but didn’t bother complaining – he knew he wouldn’t be heard anyway.

Noah tried his best not to think of where he was going or what might be awaiting him, but when they stopped in front of sliding metal doors, he was already trembling. One of the guards typed something on a keyboard by the door, and as it opened, Noah had to lock his knees to keep them from bucking.

He stood before a wide lab, eyes darting between trays filled with needles, flasks, and sharp objects he didn’t know the name of but filled him with unease either way; cabinets he was sure held more of the frightening instruments; and the metal table, right in the middle of it all, surrounded by restraints.

He swallowed audibly and started to back away instinctively, earning a growl from a guard and an annoyed shove forward.

Dr. Carver looked up at him from where he rummaged through a cabinet and straightened up, smiling at the false bravado Noah was trying to pull.

“Noah! How nice of you to join us,” the doctor cooed, giving him a wink. Noah wished to have his hands free so he could punch that fucking wink out of that smug face. “On the table, please.”

“If your henchmen stop trying to dislocate my shoulder,” he hissed, writhing against the hands holding him.

The doctor only tilted his head to the side and admired the scene as the guards pushed him down on the table and buckled restraints around his ankles, his wrists, his chest, his hips. Noah swore through gritted teeth, loudly and profusely enough to feel burning glares from the nurses and other doctors strolling around the lab, casually ignoring him until then.

“Language, kid,” Dr. Carver chastised.

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking psycho, sadistic creep,” Noah grunted.

“Quit insulting me, Noah, it won’t do you any good.”

“I wasn’t insulting you, asshole, I was describing you,” he replied, pushing against the restraints and finding no give.

He expected annoyance at least, fury at best in response to his retort. Instead, he was met with an amused smile.

“Did you know we’re recording every test and experiment?” the doctor said softly, towering over Noah’s defenseless figure. “I’m going to take great pleasure in watching this later, once I’ve taught you how to behave properly.”

“We’ll see about that, doc,” Noah smirked, hoping it would conceal the dread pooling in his stomach.

“This is one of the wild ones, huh? We’ll see how long It lasts,” someone muttered behind him, earning low chuckles from faceless people. Suddenly it was too hard to keep up the fearless facade as helplessness fell over him like a thick blanket, stealing his breath away. They talked about Noah like he was a zoo animal – locked up against his will, just a helpless and unwilling entertainment. A lab rat. It was hard not to feel like it.

“Are you done being a brat?” Dr. Carver asked, dragging a stool and a metal tray on wheels next to Noah. “Let us begin, then.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he shouted, but no one listened.

Noah trashed as hard as he could, but all he could do was scratch his skin against the harsh material strapping him to the table.

“I’m not doing anything yet, kid. Hold still or this is going to be a lot more painful than it has to,” Carver warned with a look a parent might give a disobedient child.

Noah only thrashed harder.

Hands came from everywhere, grabbing his body all at the same time. A tourniquet was tied to his arm way too tightly, a cotton-tipped swab stuck up his nose so high it burned and made his eyes water. Before he could do as much as take a breath, a needle was stabbed into his vein so harshly and abruptly he couldn’t help by cry out.

“I told you to hold still,” dr. Carver said in a sing-song voice that got Noah clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

As people continued to poke and prod him, Noah searched for the small black circle of a camera, finding one in each corner of the room. Staring straight at the closest one, he screamed “I want this to stop now! I do not allow my body or my image to be used in this experiment! They are keeping me captive and using me against my will!”

When he finished, shaky hands, gasping breath and raw voice, a chuckle filled the room.

“Cute,” Dr. Carver commented, patting his hand. He didn’t get a chance to scratch the man before he took the hand away. “But the recordings are mine and are never going to be seen by anyone else. Nice try, though.”

He would have replied, weren’t for the harsh hands suddenly holding his head still. Noah tried to bite and scream, but he was truly helpless to stop them when a piece of metal was shoved inside his mouth, keeping his tongue uncomfortably pressed to his palate, his jaw unable to fully close or open, and someone held his head up as another buckled straps behind it.

A muzzle.

They muzzled him.

Noah stared at dr. Carver with wide, betrayed eyes. The man simply giggled and continued to fill a bag with his blood. He tried to force his jaw open, to say something, anything, but the muzzle was strapped tight, and all he could produce was a pitiful whine. Shame filled him to the brim, making his cheeks burn.

“Don’t worry kid, this is just so you stop screaming and don’t give us a headache since we’re going to be here for a while,” the doctor said in a tranquilizing voice. “We’ll take it out once we’re done.”

He looked at Noah expectantly, as if waiting for a response, his smile wrapped in just the right amount of mockery to make Noah seethe.

With even his words taken away, Noah let his body sag on the table, eyes closed to keep the tears from falling as the doctors went on.

They took X-rays, ultrasounds, and countless tests no one cared to tell him the name of or what they were for. His body was handled by precise, impersonal hands, moving him slightly when needed, like a puppet being rearranged on stage. Like an object, made to be played with. Whenever he had the chance, Noah writhed as best as he could just to annoy the doctors, but the satisfaction it earned him was quickly muddled by the pain when they tightened the restraints so hard his extremities started to tingle.

It wasn’t the pain he was scared of. He had agreed on participating in the experiment before he knew it was actually a prison, knowing it would probably include some degree of pain. It was the lack of freedom that made him sick to his stomach with panic. The loss of his free will, which he had fought so hard to conquer, now being taken away in the blink of an eye. It hurt more than anything those so-called doctors could do to him.

And so, it hurt inside and out, as strangers with apathetic eyes used his body as if there was no one inside, whimpering softly and hoping that dreadful day could just come to an end.

After what felt like forever, when Noah was already dizzy and weak from all the blood they’d taken – why did they need two blood bags and that many tubes, anyway? –, dr. Carver smiled sweetly and shook his shoulder to get him out of the sleepy daze he didn’t realize he was in.

“We’re all done here, kid. I’d say you did good, but you really didn’t. You also lost quite a bit of blood and haven’t eaten anything, so I’d recommend resting and eating whatever we send to your room unless you want to be back here sooner rather than later. Hopefully next time you’ll behave better, and we won’t have to use the muzzle or the restraints, huh?”

His head was lifted, the muzzle taken away, leaving his jaw aching and his pride scattered somewhere along the floor, replaced by anger and embarrassment.

“Let’s not pretend you wouldn’t tie me down just to see me struggling, doc. I can see it in your eyes,” he said, working his jaw to try and alleviate the ache.

“You’ll be so cute when you learn to keep your mouth shut, Noah,” Carver sighed, not looking at all as annoyed as his words might’ve suggested. Actually, he sounded more entertained than anything.

With an indifferent nod to someone Noah couldn’t see, the doctor patted his cheek patronizingly and turned away.

A part of Noah felt the impulse of provoking the man one last time, just to try and get a reaction out of him, but the rest just wanted to curl up and sleep, forget that this day ever existed. So, when the guards surrounded him, unbuckling the restraints with maddening slowness, Noah just laid there and waited, too worn out to do or say anything.

The walk back to the room looked more like two grown men dragging a rag doll through disturbing hallways, but Noah was so faint and defeated that he just sank in their grip and stumbled across the cold floors.

He didn’t even realize they were already in front of his cell until the guards let go of his arms and shoved him inside. The ground approached quickly as his knees bent with the sudden push, but instead of being met with chilly tile and pain, he was enveloped by warm arms and a comforting presence holding all his weight.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Maverick helped him straighten up before staggering toward the bed.

“You are either the most intriguing subject they ever got their hands on, or you really pissed someone off if they left you like this on your second day here,” Maverick remarked, sitting on his own bed across Noah’s.

“I don’t think Carver likes being called a crazy fucking psycho,” Noah said in as smug a tone as he could muster, “or a sadistic creep.”

Maverick pursed his lips, but a snorted laugh was quick to escape them. He shook his head slowly, laughing audible for a moment before forcing his mouth back shut and replacing the softness the laughter had spread across his face with a slight frown. “Bold. But you shouldn’t do that, Noah. The sooner you stop resisting, the less they’ll actively hurt you.”

“They are keeping me captive; they are hurting me either way.”

Maverick glared at him, jaw pressed tight. “You are hardly escaping. It’s better to comply and accept the mercy you can have than fight for a lost cause.”

“The day I stop fighting, Maverick, is the day my fucking soul dies. If I comply, then I give up and I am never doing that. And you know what? You shouldn’t either – if you let them convince you that you can’t escape, then you really won’t.”

The words fell out of his mouth in a stumbling croak, his tongue feeling weird and sore inside his mouth. Even so, Noah would’ve kept going if the other man hadn’t turned his face away, brows furrowed and gaze furious. He would’ve been sorry for scolding him, but Noah truly meant what he’d said.

“Hey, how long have you been here?” it was hard to keep a lighthearted tone when he felt absolutely miserable, but Noah forced himself to roll to his side and swallow down the nausea and the humiliation that seemed to have stuck to him.

“I don’t know, they don’t let us keep track of time,” was the low answer, a hint of sadness tinging every word. “You have to make peace with what you’re living now, Noah. I’ve been here for longer, and I can tell you for sure: people don’t leave this place. The only thing we can do is hope that today doesn’t hurt as badly as yesterday.”

Helplessness emanated from Maverick as the words left his mouth. Noah’s roommate had clearly been through a lot more than he had, and he knew that arguing would render him nothing. So Noah kept his mouth shut and silently promised himself he would prove Maverick wrong.

“Are you okay?” Maverick asked suddenly.

“Yeah, why?”

It was a flat out lie. Noah’s body felt feeble and strained after so many hours held in the same position, his head hurt, and he feared he might start crying anytime.

“You are so pale your lips have disappeared.”

Noah pouted, trying to see his colorless lips.

“Damn, I can’t believe I’m already making a bad impression. Wanted to look nice at least on the first few days, you know?” he mumbled, the instinct to joke and hide his vulnerability taking over.

“You look like a very handsome ghost, don’t worry.”

Noah managed to crack out a smile as Maverick stared so intensely at his face, he feared he was looking at his soul.

“I think you’ll be okay, you just need to eat something and rest for a bit,” his roommate finally stated, glancing at the box attached to the wall from where the meals came in. “I’ll keep watch for when they deliver some food. You should sleep for now, I know you didn’t last night. Tell me if you start feeling worse or if anything changes, alright?”

Noah nodded once before curling up and closing his eyes. Strangely enough, he quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, too exhausted to even think about how he could still feel the muzzle pressed against his face. For once, he just laid there and let himself be lulled by the warm presence watching over him, knowing he wasn’t alone after such a terrible day.

When Noah woke up, he was alone in the cell, Maverick’s absence feeling like a weight on his stomach. This time the unease he felt looking around had nothing to do with blood loss.

#whump #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #defiant whumpee #lab whump #medical setting #needles cw #blood mention #experiment whump #experimentation whump #medical whump #test subject #lab rats

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janetbrown711 · 4 years

Note

“Why are you shaking?” Yakko >:)

Yakko’s leg bounced up and down so quickly, it appeared to simply be vibrating. In truth, Yakko had to be forced to sit down, his pacing was driving the others in the hospital waiting room insane.

Dot had begun her surgery about an hour ago, and they should’ve heard something by now... at least Yakko thought. In truth, he hadn’t asked how long it was supposed to take, and even if he had he didn’t have a watch for which to keep track.

Either way, Yakko was anxious to hear if Dot was okay. A million things could happen during surgery, a million things his mind loved to jump around and explore while he waited. He tried his best to listen to the advice of his younger brother and Plotz (a sentence he never thought he’d ever form) and remind himself that this was necessary and Dot needed the surgery and that everything is going to be okay, but Yakko was Yakko and his anxiety continued.

His brother was right for calling him a ‘worry-wart’, but ‘worry-warting’ had kept them alive so far so he wasn’t exactly going to stop now.

After a while of that, however, Yakko just put his elbows on his legs to stop the shaking and just hoped for the best. All the pacing and shaking was tiring. Quickly after that though, none other than Doctor Scratchnsniff himself entered the waiting room, and Yakko and Wakko hugged each other nervously.

“Ze operation vas a complete success!” The doctor smiled and Yakko and Wakko practically jumped with joy as a wave of relief washed over them.

Finally, it was over.

“However... there is one thing we’d like to talk to you about, Yakko,” Hello Nurse said, appearing next to Scratchnsniff.

Well... at least, Dot’s sickness was over. They still had a lot more loose ends to tie everywhere else.

“But I wanna see Dot,” Wakko frowned and pulled on his brother’s arm.

“You’ll get to later, she’s just in recovery for now. Surgery is quite the tiring process,” the nurse explained. Wakko huffed and pulled down his hat.

“I’m gonna be boredddddddd,” Wakko groaned.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to do in that head of yours,” Yakko teased, standing up. Wakko huffed, but didn’t say much outside of that, so Yakko took that as his brother’s permission and he went off with the nurse and doctor.

“So... what’s this about? Is Dot okay?” Yakko asked once they were alone in a room.

“No, Dot is doing vonderfully,” Scratchy shook his head. “Zis is about... something else.”

“Yakko, do you know why you came to Acme Falls?” Hello Nurse asked.

“Well, my mom told us- why are you asking?” Yakko raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you see, your father actually grew up here, before he was a squire and moved away,” She said. “As such, Queen Angelina II and King William knew that you three would be safe here, in case anything happened to the two of them. We knew what to expect and more importantly, they knew we wouldn’t harm you or turn you in to King Salazar.”

Yakko paused a long moment.

“You mean... you guys knew?” Yakko asked.

“Vell... yah. Of course ve knew. Not everyone looks like your family, you know?” The doctor looked at him in a way that pointed out the stupidity of the question. Yakko facepalmed.

“Right, yeah,” Yakko cringed. “So... why are you telling me this now?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, the people of Warnerstock’s hatred of Salazar has only grown over the years, and rumors have spread about the Wishing Star and you three’s survival of the attack and now people are suggesting that you three inherit your parent's thrones, and well... we have proof,” The nurse explained, showing Yakko their birth certificates.

Yakko’s eyes fell upon the familiar handwriting of his father, and he touched it carefully.

“I-i... I don’t know what to say,” Yakko managed to get out.

“It’s a lot to process, no?” The doctor said. Yakko nodded.

“I-i just... I don’t know... I haven’t thought about actually returning to our old lives in... a really long time,” Yakko set down the certificates and scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s one thousand percent up to you, we aren’t forcing you to do anything, we’re just... pointing something out, so to say,” Hello Nurse explained, feeling bad.

“Yeah, I get that,” Yakko said. “Still it’s... wow. I mean... my dad really used to live here? Why didn’t anyone say anything?” he questioned.

“Well... I suppose there was never a right time. We did our best to make sure the three of you were well, but with everything going downhill so fast... well, there was only so much we could do,” She did her best to justify. Yakko slowly nodded.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” He admitted. Looking back, he could see their acts of kindness and how they did try their best to have sympathy and help while the world went sour around them. The looking away when they borrowed food, the conveniently placed goods, the constant hiring of Wakko while they could. Acme Falls was good like that.

“Well... I’ll need to talk to my sibs about this... and do some thinking... a lot of thinking,” Yakko said.

“Of course, you shouldn’t rush a zing like zis, no?” The doctor agreed. Yakko bit his lip.

“So when will Dot be okay enough for guests?” Yakko asked.

“Oh, not for a little while. Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to keep you two updated,” Hello Nurse said. “Should give you plenty of time to think.”

“Yippie,” Yakko laughed pathetically. The doctor and nurse gave him looks of sympathy.

“You must be in your head often, no?” Scratchy asked. Yakko nodded. “Not fun.”

“Yeah, you said it,” Yakko said, standing up.

“Well... I’ll give what you said a thought... this should be fun,” He nodded at them.

“We’ll send for you if Dot wakes up while you’re gone,” The nurse suggested. Yakko nodded at that, and headed out of the room, pausing briefly outside of Dot’s room.

“Please recover fast. I don’t know how much more of this thinking I can handle,” He thought, before walking back to the waiting room.

“What’d they talk to you about?” asked Wakko.

“Oh just... things,” Yakko couldn’t think of a lie fast enough.

“What kind of things?” Wakko raised an eyebrow, painfully curious.

“Legal things,” Yakko said, deciding the truth was boring enough. Wakko groaned.

“Everything is so boring now,” Wakko complained. “Why can’t everything be death defying and a mad chase for the Wishing Star?”

“There’s nothing boring about safety,” Yakko frowned, hoping his brother wasn’t already getting ideas.

Then again, becoming prince again would be entertaining...

Yakko groaned as he felt a headache come on.

“I’ll be back, I have a lot to think about,” Yakko said.

“You’re gonna leave me again?” Wakko pouted.

“Look, it’ll only be a minute. I’ll buy us some food, that sound good to you?” Yakko asked. Wakko nodded and handed Yakko his remaining ha’penny.

“Just come back soon, Mr. Plotz is so boring... though now that he’s asleep...” Wakko looked at him, mischief gleaming in his eyes. Yakko snorted.

“You do what makes you happy, just don’t pretend I was involved,” Yakko winked and left the hospital, happy to get out and get some fresh air.

In truth, the day was still quite young. The Warners had gone to the hospital first thing in the morning, and after a quick, reassuring peptalk from Yakko, Dot’s nerves were soothed and she was taken into surgery. Now it was roughly two hours later, and the streets were full of people who were eager to spend the money that had been returned to them from the Baron, who kept his promise. Yakko couldn’t help but smile at the sight, reflecting on how it had only been two days ago the streets were barron and covered in snow, and the town lifeless and grey.

It seemed Acme Falls was welcoming a bright, new future.

A bright, new future they were probably all hoping was staring- well...

Him.

His sibs.

God, how their days of royalty felt like a million years ago.

Yakko used to have plenty of happy memories of his parents dancing around in his head, but nowadays it seemed they were all tainted. Any time he remembered his mother singing and kissing him goodnight, he’d remember the last time he saw her, all bruised and bloodied. Any time he’d remember a funny story his father read to him, he’d recall his father telling him he’d never let anything bad happen to him or his sibs.

He had made promises to his parents too: that he’d be able to protect them and keep them safe no matter what.

Yakko sighed, as guilt weighed on his back as it so often did. He couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be a day the guilt would go away. It wracked his mind for as long as he could remember, whether it was about not being able to save his mother, the orphanage closing, Dot’s health, Wakko going away, or how he had failed to protect them and almost lost both of them in one day.

Determined to not dwell, Yakko quickly began to make his way to the market in the town square and filled up his bag with fruits and veggitables, as well as a loaf of bread and couldn’t help but smile as he payed for it with the ha’penny.

That was one benefit if they decided to inherit the throne: him and his siblings would never have to be hungry again. They’d have a nice, warm home and never want for anything ever again.

But at the same time, Acme Falls had become a home to them. They knew most everyone around town, and it would feel strange not to see them. These people had done so much for them over the years, it wouldn’t feel right to leave them.

Yakko thanked the grocer, and decided to stop by their home before going back to the hospital.

It would probably do wonders for them to have a nice, warm home without giant holes in the roof that let in piles of snow and rain, and to have nice, warm beds that were stuffed with feathers and cleaned every day by servants instead of the uncomfortable bare-bones wooden ones Wakko and Yakko had. Goodness knew his back would probably appreciate it.

Still... as he looked around he recognized it as home. He had lived their for a whole year- the longest he’s lived anywhere since before the attack. It would be really hard to say goodbye.

Yakko sat down on his bed and groaned, annoyed as the headache flared. He really thought his mind would be used to all of this over analyzing and stressing by now, but it wasn’t.

He then figured it was best he delay thinking about it until he was ready to discuss it with his siblings. For now, he’d head back to the hospital and wait for Dot to wake up. He had ignored Wakko long enough anways.

Turns out, Yakko didn’t have to wait much at all, as Dot was already awake by the time he had made it back.

“Yakko! Do you like my scar?” Dot beamed when he entered her room and showed off the scar on her chest where they had operated. Yakko laughed and nodded, feeling his headache disappear entirely.

“Very cool,” He said, setting down the bag of food in the corner of the room.

“I think it’s faboo,” Wakko grinned with his tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“How’re you feeling though? Do you feel well rested?” Yakko asked, going to the side of her bed and stroking her head.

“I feel fine Yakko, really,” Dot reassured.

“Yeah, she feels fine. You’re such a worry-wart,” Wakko teased him.

Yakko rolled his eyes. “It’s kept us alive this long, and you can’t argue with that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Wakko mumbled. Sometimes Yakko swore his brother was still four years old.

“Anyway,” He said, giving his brother a look, “I was wondering if you’re okay enough to have a long and kinda tough conversation.”

“What do you mean? Are you gonna yell at me again?” Dot blinked.

“No, no. It’s not like that conversation,” Yakko said, feeling a pang of guilt. “I mean... well...” He sighed, not knowing how to say it other than to outright say it. Instead, he patted for Wakko to sit on Dot’s bed and he did.

“Well... you two know how Mom and Dad were once king and queen before King Salazar, right?” Yakko asked. His siblings nodded.

“Well... you see, now that Salazar is on the way out, now the people of Warnerstock are looking for the true heirs to the throne... us,” Yakko explained, his sibs taking a moment to process what he was saying.

“You mean they want us to rule the country?” Wakko tilted his head.

“I mean- basically, yeah,” Yakko nodded.

“I’d get to be a princess?” Dot beamed.

“Well- yes, but it’s a lot more than just fancy dresses and a castle,” Yakko warned.

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

“Well, for starters, it’d mean we’d have responsibilities, and big ones. We’d have to make sure to take good care of Warnerstock, and it’s citizens,” He explained.

“Psh, we can do that,” Wakko blew it off.

“Oh? And what makes you so confident?” Yakko raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve taken care of us two for six years now, and you’ve done just fine,” Wakko said plainly.

“Yeah right, you two almost died countless times,” Yakko rolled his eyes, but decided not to get into.

“A whole kingdom is a lot more than just two people,” Yakko said.

“How would the people even know we’re the heirs to the throne?” Dot tilted her head.

“Outside of looks? The hospital has our birth certificates,” Yakko said. “They’re signed by our parents and everything.”

Wakko and Dot blinked.

“Can we see them?” Wakko asked.

“Uh- okay,” Yakko nodded and asked for the nurse to bring them over. She did, and Yakko handed them to his siblings, surprised to see how much they captivated them.

“Wow- my name is really long written down,” Dot remarked.

“Well yeah, what else did you expect Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III?” Yakko joked.

“I honestly have no idea how you remember it all. I get them all mixed up,” Wakko commented.

“Yeah, your name is nice and short, Wakkorotti,” Dot teased.

“Dad’s handwriting was really neat and curly,” Wakko said, tracing the cursive with his finger.

“That’s because it’s cursive and he was trained in calligraphy,” Yakko explained. “Which- if we decided to claim the throne- would be one of our responsibilities.”

“I wanna learn how to write curly letters!” Dot bounced up and down before wincing.

“Take it easy Dot, no need to overexurt yourself. Dont’ forget you’re still recovering,” Yakko warned.

“What else would we do?” Wakko asked.

“Well... we’d make laws, sign treaties, keep people safe and happy, throw parties, and take a lot of classes that will probably be really boring for things like maners and such,” Yakko tried to recall what he could of his past for reference, but very little came up.

“Would we still be together?” Dot asked. quieter.

“Of course,” Yakko frowned with concern. “I’d never let them separate us.”

“We’d get a big fancy castle? With nice warm beds? And warm food?” Wakko quizzed. Yakko nodded.

“O-of course, but it’s not that simple Wakko,” Yakko said, frustrated his worries weren’t getting through.

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Sign me up,” Wakko officially declared his support of reclaiming the throne.

“Me too!” Dot agreed, and declared her support as well.

“Well- I-... okay,” Yakko rubbed the bridge of his nose. In truth, he knew his siblings would be estatic about hearing that they could become royalty again, and that he’d be the only one with any problems.

Well, he promised he’d listen and ask them, and that he did.

“If you guys are one hundred percent sure then... I’m sure too. Let’s go reclaim the throne... however you do that.”

.o0o.

After about a week of planning, they had finally done it. Salazar was gone and was never, ever coming back, Yakko made sure of that.

He was amused by how scared the king had looked, knowing that he had been beaten by literal children. It was pathetic really, but Yakko enjoyed kicking him out nonetheless. After all, now he’d be rotting a cell for the rest of time. Yakko could finally rest easy about that.

However, as he watched people redecorate the castle around him to become more and more like he remembered, he couldn’t help but feel like a ghost, viewing things that had once been. He had been dazed as he watched old tapestries get hung, and he had been left speechless when they asked for suggestions on flowers or colors.

Thank god he had Wakko and Dot, otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this.

Yakko smiled softly. Wakko and Dot had been so excited during the whole ordeal, only getting sad when they had to say goodbye to Acme Falls. They loved their new rooms (though they always ended up sleeping in Yakko’s room out of habit) and all the foods and dressing up and preparation for their corination.

Oh god, their corination was today. Yakko was standing and getting his pants fitted for the ceremony which was in an hour. He was wearing a crown.

He still couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

“Now... how does that feel?” One of the seamstresses asked him, stepping back and giving him a good look up and down.

“Feels weird to have pants that fit,” Yakko snorted, but admired himself in the mirror.

He looked regal, almost. If he smiled and puffed out his chest, he looked like the epitome of confidence and charm. Thank god, he needed that or else everyone was going to realize he was just a scared kid.

“But I like it. It looks great, thank you so much,” Yakko smiled and nodded at her. He then stepped down and decided to go looking for his sibs, noticing it had been awhile since he had seen them and he needed to make sure they hadn’t destroyed anything.

“Yakko! These halls are so long, and really good for racing!” Dot said, nearly crashing into him as he turned the corner to see them.

“Dot, what did I say about running around? You’re still recovering, take it easy,” Yakko shook his head and chuckled. As much as he warned against it, it filled him with joy to see her running around like a little kid again. After all, it had been over a year since she had been healthy.

“Lame,” Wakko rolled his eyes as he slowed down to join them. Yakko copied his motion as he scooped Dot up in his arms.

“So, what’re you two doing in this hall? I think this is the one part of the castle I haven’t seen yet,” Yakko said.

“A bunch of old art and stuff. The maid ladies said they haven’t decided where to put them up yet,” Wakko said, catching his breath.

“Really? I thought I’d seen it all by now,” Yakko commented, now wanting to see them. Dot bobbed her head.

“Oh yeah! They’re a bunch of old dresses and suits and stuff too, though a lot of them are really dirty,” She remarked. Yakko furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what to think, as he started walking.

As he walked, he noticed a lot of the furtinture in this hall was covered in while cloth, so he set Dot down and pulled them off before snorting.

He remembered this one. It was a painting of an orchard from one of his Dad’s stories. It had been about a knight returning to his home village after years of being away, and falling for his childhood sweetheart before having to defeat a giant and saving the day for everyone. His father’s words had been so descriptive and precise, Yakko could recognize the painting in a flash. He was pretty sure it had been a birthday present to him when he was seven, though paintings were hardly what he’d consider a proper gift for a seven year old.

Still. It felt nice to see it again.

“What’s that? Who painted it?” Dot asked.

“It’s a painting from one of Dad’s old stories. I’m pretty sure the royal artist did it... Pappy... Pabby... I don’t remember his name,” Yakko shrugged, not caring.

“Can we have a royal painter? I wanna get a portrait done of me. Cuteness like this should be preserved,” Dot posed in her big pink dress.

“I’ll think about it,” Yakko snickered, before moving to one that was much bigger than the others. Tilting his head, he pulled off the heavy cloth and took a step back as a layer of dust got into the air. After coughing and clearing the air, he looked at it and his body froze.

“Woah, so realistic,” Wakko remarked, wanting to touch it.

“Who are those people?” Dot tilted her head.

“Th-thats... th-that’s them,” Yakko said, unable to take his eyes off of it.

It was a portrait of them, their whole family. It had been done a few weeks before the attack, and Yakko had never gotten to see the final product. But here it was- and it was so... so lifelike. Yakko wanted to reach out to it and touch it, hoping that he could feel his mother’s soft gloves and or his father’s fur cape.

“Them?” Dot looked up at him. Yakko gulped hard.

“M-mom and Dad,” he struggled to say.

“Why are you shaking?” Dot asked. Yakko paused. He hadn’t noticed he was.

“S-sorry sibs... it’s just... It’s really, really lifelike,” Yakko shook his head, trying to force himself out of the trance. “I can’t believe it survived. There’s no way any portraits of them should’ve made it. Most of them were burned or torn to pieces.”

“Wow... that’s what they looked like?” Dot asked, looking at it closer. Wakko nodded.

“I only have one or two memories of Mum and Dad, but that’s them alright,” Wakko smiled a little, and Yakko wrapped an arm around him, before feeling himself start to shake again.

“Oh god- what am I doing?” Yakko let go and took a step away from Wakko. His sibs looked back at him, equal parts concerned and confused.

“I-i should be happy to see that a painting of them survived. I-i... I’ve missed seeing their faces a lot. B-but here I am, shaking like some idiot,” Yakko ran his fingers through his hair. He tried to gain control of his breath as he looked in the eyes of his parents in the painting, and felt another wave of emotions go down his spine.

“I-i just... seeing them again, I-i...” Yakko tried to analyze his feelings, but it was proving to be very difficult.

“It’s hard?” Wakko suggested. Yakko nodded slightly.

“Y-yeah...” He sighed. “They just... they look so... regal. In control. They always knew what they were doing. They knew just how to protect us. No matter what happened, they had a plan to keep us safe, even if that ended up costing them,” He said, crossing his arms, as he felt guilt crawl into his throat and his eyes begin to fill with tears.

“I just... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to match up to them,” He admitted, feeling a rogue tear escape.

“God, I’m turning into such a cry baby,” Yakko muttered and wiped his eyes.

“There’s no shame in crying, Yakko,” Dot frowned. “You should know that. You’ve told me all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Wakko said, stepping closer, clearly wanting to hug him.

“Of course you two would say that,” Yakko sniffled, laughing a little.

“Of course we would, we love you,” Wakko said, running to hug him. “And I know Mum and Dad loved you too.”

“I-I’m sure if they were around, they’d be proud Yakko. I mean- look at you. Somehow, you kept me and Wakko alive in Acme Falls for six years, and you’ve kept us safe and gave us food and protection, all while putting on a brave face to keep us happy,” Dot pointed out, joining the hug. “That’s incredibly brave and regal, if you asked me.”

Yakko patted her head softly. “Thanks sis.” Dot just smiled in return. Taking in a deep breath, Yakko tried to regain his composure.

“You know... I’m really lucky to have you two,” Yakko said, and he meant it. He couldn’t imagine how his life would be if he didn’t have Dot or Wakko with him, especially right in this moment.

“Really?” Wakko asked, his tongue now sticking out, as it so often did.

“Of course,” Yakko ruffled his fur. “You two are honestly the best siblings and co-rulers a prince such as myself could ask for,” Yakko smiled.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” Dot winked at him. Yakko snorted.

“Seriously though, I couldn’t imagine doing this without you guys. You guys are probably the only thing keeping me sane right now,” He said, only half joking.

“It’s okay Yakko, we aren’t going anywhere,” Wakko laughed a little.

“Yeah! We’re a team, we all agreed on that. You’re never gonna have to worry about being alone ever again,” Dot said with a big smile.

“Good,” He said, hugging the two of them a little bit closer as he wiped away another tear. With a breath, he looked at his watch and gasped.

“Brain is gonna kill us if we’re late, we have to hurry. It’s almost time,” Yakko said, and Wakko and Dot nodded.

“You gonna be okay?” Wakko asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” He nodded. “I got the best team ever. And if all else fails, I’ll improvise a little, that’s always worked out, right?” He said, in reference to the speech he was going to have to make to the kingom. He had written cue cards, but in all honesty he thought those ideas were garbage and he’d figure it out when he got there, which was probably a terrible idea, but if he could improvise a way to keep the three of them from being killed by Salazar, he could probably improvise an acceptance speech to the kingdom.

“We believe in you,” Wakko and Dot gave him big thumbs up.

“You two are dorks. Go finish getting ready, I’ll be there in a minute,” Yakko said. Wakko and Dot nodded, scurrying off to get some final touches done (mostly redoing their hair since they had just spent goodness knew how long running around).

Once they disappeared, Yakko sighed and turned back to the portrait.

“H-hi Mom... Hi Dad,” He gulped.

“I-it’s me. Yakko. I-i don’t know if you recognize me, it’s been a while since you’ve seen me,” He said, cringing at how stupid he must’ve sounded. Still, he felt... better talking to them, so he continued.

“I-i just want to say... thanks. For everything. You’ve left some really big shoes to fill- well... not shoes exactly, we’ve never really worn shoes, but... you know,” He joked.

“And I just... thanks for giving me Wakko and Dot. Seriously. If you were still here, you’d be so proud of them, I just know it,” He said.

“I wasn’t kidding earlier: I really don’t know if I could’ve made it this far without them... They’re so much like you two in so many ways, you’d be surprised. Dot as your kindness and your strength, while Wakko has your optimism and your courage...” Yakko smiled weakly.

“I guess despite everything, we did turn out okay,“ He said, feeling a wave of comfort and relaxation wash over him.

Despite all the hell they had been through, they were okay, and right where they were always supposed to be.

Yakko had done a good job after all. He truly had kept his promise to his mother. He had protected and watched over them and kept them safe and sound.

“Yakko! Brain said to come and get you before he kills you!” Wakko called from the other end of the hall.

“Be right there!” He replied, before returning to the painting.

“I miss you a lot... but it’s okay now. I’m okay,” He said.

“I have my sibs, and no one is ever going to separate us ever again. Not even death itself.”

Yakko took a deep breath and smiled. “I have to go now... but I’m sure I’ll be back. I just gotta go rule a kingdom, I’m sure you understand,” He joked, before shaking his head. He waved goodbye to the painting and ran to go join his siblings at the tower where the balcony where they were going to give their speech was.

“You two ready?” Yakko asked, adjusting his cape.

“Born ready,” Dot gave a toothy grin. Yakko snorted.

“Ready to go when you are Yakko,” Wakko grinned as well.

“Are you ready Yakko?” Brain asked.

“With a team like this? Of course,” Yakko nodded at the mouse. Brain accepted the corny response, nodding at a guard, who them opened the doors wide.

Yakko then held Wakko and Dot’s hands and gave them a tight squeeze, before together, they stepped out into the rest of their lives, secure in the fact that no matter what life threw at them next, they’d always have each other.

Always.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

#animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #my fics #wakkos wish #angst #family feels #fluff #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #Wakko's Wish collection #long post #jeez this one took forever to write #like- wowza #im exhausted #hopefully its good tho

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

Text

Ginger Snap

A/N I was driving down the highway today and saw the license plate “I PieGuy”. By the time I got home, this story was half-born in my head. I have no idea where it might go, but it’s taking up valuable shelf space in there, so I’m birthing it onto paper. Modern AU. Silly fluff. Claire POV. First person, which I never write, so watch out for stray pronouns.

The shriek of the fire alarm was the final straw. I’d just stepped out of the kitchen for a minute, but that was all it took for calamity to strike. Opening the oven door in a panic, billows of smoke engulfed me before I slammed it shut again.

“Shit. Shitshitshit. Shit!”

Waving a damp dish towel back and forth like a flag of surrender above my head caused the head-splitting siren to finally desist. I blew a rogue curl off my sweaty brow and gave myself a pep talk.

“Time to woman up,” I sighed before donning the oven gloves and cautiously cracking the door once again. More smoke escaped, smelling of burnt pastry and ruined hopes. Once it cleared I could see the charred carcasses of what were supposed to be vol au vent shells. I carefully extracted them from the oven and dropped the cooking sheet with a clatter onto the quartz countertop.

“Dinner is D.O.A, Doctor Beauchamp. Now what the fuck am I going to do?”

***

Thirty minutes were spent cleaning the evidence of yet another cooking fiasco and ventilating our flat by opening every available window to let in the moist Edinburgh breeze. I now had less than four hours before Frank and three other members of the university faculty would be descending, expecting a home-cooked meal and polite chitchat. I was in no position to offer either.

In a last-ditch effort to salvage the evening, I typed “sophisticated home catering in Edinburgh” and started dialing. The first four numbers yielded either an answering machine or the news (unsurprising) that at least two days’ advanced notice were required to book their services. Nearly resigned to ordering in Italian and facing Frank’s wrath, a woman’s voice with a thick Scottish brogue picked up at the fifth business I called.

“Ye’ve reached Ginger Snap, this is Jenny speaking. How may I help ye t’day?”

I poured out my tale of culinary woe, laying it on a bit thick, but I was truly desperate by this point.

“Aye, we’ve a chef available this afternoon. What sort of menu were ye planning?” she asked.

“Really? Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver!”

I gave Jenny the number of guests and a broad idea of what I’d hoped to serve, although I was in no position to be choosy.

“Never ye fear, Ms. Beauchamp. We’ll pick up the necessary items and our chef will be at yer flat by four. Tha’ should leave jus’ enough time tae have everything ready fer six.”

Thanking her profusely and not even inquiring about the charge, I stood triumphant in the middle of my immaculate yet useless kitchen. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

***

The buzzer rang as I was re-arranging the decorative objects atop our sideboard. I was aiming for the artless sophistication featured in Frank’s favourite design magazines, but instead I lined up each item in order of descending size, or grouped them by historical era. A second buzz had me trotting to the intercom where a male voice crackled.

“This is James Fraser o’ Ginger Snap Catering. Can ye let me in?”

I stuck my head into the hallway to find four organic cotton tote bags bursting with produce at my doorstep. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, where I assumed the chef had retreated to collect more supplies. I brought the first load into the kitchen where I began to unpack foodstuffs the likes of which I’d never seen. Not knowing what else to do to be helpful, I began sorting them; green leafy things here, round crispy things there.

“Hallo?” the same voice called from where I’d left the door ajar. Wiping my hands nervously against my slacks, I went to greet him.

Standing in the doorframe, almost filling it with his immense size, was a young man who seemed more suited to a stag hunt or a rugby pitch than haute cuisine. He had loose tawny curls, two days’ worth of stubble and wore a faded grey henley, dark wash jeans that clung to his muscular legs and utilitarian workman’s boots.

“Claire Beauchamp?” he interrupted my visual inventory.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry. Pleased to meet you.”

Something funny happened when our hands met in a firm shake. A tachycardic blip, my internal medicine professor would have called it. There was no time to analyze this response, however, as he was already on the move.

“James Fraser, at yer service. I’d normally spend more time getting to know ye and yer style of entertaining, but we’re short on time, so let’s get straight to it, aye?”

I gave the chef a hasty tour of our kitchen, stumbling over the names of various implements and opening the wrong cupboard when looking for my saucepans. I blushed as he raised an expressive eyebrow, but shook it off. I was paying for his cooking proficiency, not his opinion on my lack of domestic competence.

“I ken ye spoke tae Jenny about yer menu, but I took a few liberties at the market, based on what looked freshest. I recommend starting with a simple salad o’ nettle and radish, garnished with a wee round of goat cheese and rye crumbs. Loin o’ lamb with new potatoes and pancetta fer yer main. An’ a simple rhubarb custard fer dessert. There’s none with food allergies, aye?”

“Aye,” I replied, then corrected “umm, no, rather,” at his concerned look. “Are you sure you can manage all that in only,” I glanced at my wristwatch “ninety minutes? It seems like an awful lot of work.”

“Och, tis no’ much. Lamb cooks swiftly, ye ken. Tis why I choose it over pork or poultry.”

My saviour rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, preparing to wash his hands and get down to work. There was probably something else I should be doing elsewhere in the flat to prepare, but I didn’t want to appear completely useless to this unflappable man.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He looked dubious and seemed prepared to politely decline, but then his expression shifted.

“Aye. Ye can wash the tatties an’ chop the rhubarb while I dress the lamb, if ye dinna mind,” he suggested.

“Scrubbing in and wielding a knife happen to be two of the only transferrable job skills I bring to cooking,” I joked, taking my turn in front of the massive Belfast sink.

He emitted a low Scottish grunt of amusement before we each settled into companionable silence, focusing on our respective duties. I glanced over at him surreptitiously, envying the ease with which he moved from task to task, lean and nimble hands working alchemy where I only succeeded in producing dross.

“Ye’re a doctor, then?” he asked after my chopped rhubarb had been set on the stovetop to stew and the lamb was marinating in a bath of lemon and fresh herbs.

“Umm, well, I was. My partner and I moved here from Boston, where I trained as a surgeon. I haven’t yet obtained my license to practice here in the UK, so I’m afraid I’m just a culinary liability for the moment.”

It was a current source of strife in my relationship with Frank. He liked the idea of me keeping house, entertaining and eventually settling down to raise a family. I chaffed at this unfamiliar routine. But until I passed my licensing exams, it was rather a moot point.

“I’m sure ye’re far more than that,” he replied solemnly, before breaking into a sneaky grin. “I’ve ne’er seen stalks of rhubarb cut quite sae... uniform. Ye’d have a fine career in quality control, if ye wished.”

I faked throwing a dish towel at him while we both laughed.

“What about you, Mr. Fraser? How did you get into the catering business?” It wasn’t polite conversation. I was really quite curious to know more about him.

“I’ll tell ye, but only if ye call me Jamie.” At my nod, he continued, “twas my Mam. She was always a great cook, but then my Da passed suddenly and she with three bairns under the age of ten tae raise. She needed tae work. We moved tae Edinburgh an’ she laboured day and night tae save enough tae start her own catering business. Since I was a lad, when I wasna in school I was in her kitchen, watching and learning all the while.”

His striking face took on a faraway expression, and I knew he was remembering those days with a mixture of wistfulness and love. I recognized the look from my own reflection, when I thought about my dead parents. Without realizing it, I lay my palm over his forearm where it had stilled above my butcher’s block. His eyes were the same hue as midsummer blueberries, and they regarded me with silent inquiry.

A timer made us both jump, my hand falling to my side. What was I thinking, touching this stranger who I was paying to cook dinner for my boyfriend’s guests? I really needed to find a hobby, so my mind didn’t latch onto any feeble excuse for stimulation.

Brushing my hands against my thighs, I quickly excused myself and left to get properly dressed for dinner. Only thirty minutes remained before Frank and his colleagues were due to arrive.

I spent more time than was strictly necessary away from the kitchen, afraid I’d made things awkward with Jamie. By the time I finally returned, he was plating the lamb and putting the custard in the refrigerator to set. I tried to think of something to say that would re-establish the fluent rapport from earlier on.

“I’ve opened the wine tae let it breathe,” Jamie said without looking at me. I wished there was a similar process for blundering Englishwomen.

“Jamie, I really don’t know how to...”

The sound of the front door opening interrupted me and Frank’s nasal voice rang out from the entryway.

“Claire, we’re here!”

“Fuck!” I exclaimed. Jamie tipped his head sideways in question. “I never had time to explain to my partner that I hired your services. That’s the dean of his faculty out there, and...” I broke off, looking frantically around the room as though a trap door would suddenly materialize. Quick on his feet, Jamie understood the situation immediately. The kitchen windows were still open after my earlier catastrophe. With surprising grace for one so large, he slid through the opening and onto the fire escape.

“Bon appetit, Claire Beauchamp,” the ginger chef wished from outside, a mischievous smirk lighting his whole countenance.

I stood, mouth open in shock, as he gave an abbreviated bow before scampering down the metal ladder just as Frank entered the kitchen behind me.

“This smells delicious, darling. We really are going to make a chef out of you yet.”

#my writing #outlander

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darth-el · 4 years

Text

The Things I Have Become

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader Warnings: Angst and mentions of weed, pills, depression, PTSD, anxiety, and if this needs anything else let me know as it’s relatively dark A/N: I’ve tried to keep this gender neutral. It was also inspired by the song Shadows by Yelawolf (the song is so much darker) and my writing playlist with the song on is here is you want to listen to it.

Masterlist

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There felt like a darkness looming over Steve ever since the events of Starcourt, he couldn't sleep or keep down anything he had eaten due to the constant anxiety with the thought of being surveilled by one government or another. The only thing that mildly numbed him were the pills the doctors prescribed and even they didn't do a good enough job for him. He didn't have many regrets in life but one of the biggest was inadvertently introducing you to what felt like his world that summer. He really wished he came up with a better lie than “We're teaching Robin Russian” when you came into Scoops that day when Robin was trying to crack the code. The moon shone through the cracks in the curtains and looking at his empty bed, he wanted nothing more than for you to be there with him and to comfort him when he woke up in cold sweats where he relived every single moment of Independence Day, he would get flashes when he was awake but at night the intensity was too much. He tried everything he could to distract himself so he could stay awake until he passed out from exhaustion, then the flashes would start again and it became a vicious cycle.

You had taken a lot longer to recover than doctors anticipated from the events of the past summer, you were getting pretty sick of being operated on by this point but you were pleased about the fact that you had a pretty steady supply of morphine or the reality would've felt far, far worse. You also had a constant stream of visitors to keep you entertained, however there was one that you wished would walk through that door but never did. It had been a months since you were admitted into hospital and lost your dad when he tried to save the world from the Russians, you foolishly thought that would've been enough to get Steve through the door; the fact he never did broke your heart slightly because you knew he would blaming himself meanwhile forgetting about the fact that Hopper was your father and El was your sister so it was inevitable. You really didn't blame him, you just wished that you could've told him that.

By the time you had left the hospital the snow on the ground was thick and the ground that was clear of snow was icy making it difficult to navigate on crutches, making you curse profusely every time you felt a piece of black ice under your crutch. Times like this made you realise how alone you had become and it was completely your choice, you could've moved away with the Byers and El but you wanted to forge your own path instead, even if it did mean staying in Hawkins for a little while before making a decision on where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do. You didn't want to be tied down any longer to this town and the second you left you weren't going to look back.

The second Steve heard a car door slam shut outside he felt the colour drain from his face and tensed up, he made himself scarce when he heard what sounded like someone trying to break down the front door. In reality it was you losing your balance and falling into it, he didn't come out of hiding until he heard your voice call his name while you were knocking loudly, he opened the door looking at you puzzled partially because he had no idea why you had come to see him and also why you were trying to break down his door. “Finally.” You said barging past him so you were out of the cold and took off your gloves with difficulty using your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked still looking flabbergasted by your presence and letting the cold air in where he had forgotten to close the door.

“You didn't come to me,” You said with the second glove between your teeth as you pulled it off. “So I decided to come to you.” You sounded rather cheerful when you got the glove off with ease and Steve shivered like someone had walked across his grave prompting him to close the door.

“I didn't realise you were out.” He mumbled avoiding eye contact while walking into the living room.

“You would've known that if you came to visit me,” You said sounding rather snarky where the wounds were still fresh but you tried to put that aside for now. “You don't look like you've been sleeping.” You pointed out making him feel self conscious where he knew he had stopped putting effort into his appearance in recent months.

“Hm.” Was the only noise you could get out of him as he sat down on the couch furthest from you.

“Steve just talk to me,” You begged making yourself comfortable on a chair you knew you could get up from easily. “I'm not angry at you about anything, I'm just really fucking hurt.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve responded sounding angry but you knew the anger was directed at himself more than it was you.

“Steve we have known each other since we were kids and were dating for six months,” Your voice was sounding like you had been completely shattered. “Be honest with me because I think I deserve it after you went MIA.” You were pleading and so focused on him you didn't fully notice the sharp shooting pains up your leg where you had moved into an uncomfortable position.

“This is my fault,” Steve said loudly pushing himself up from the couch and throwing his arms in the air. “I can't sleep because I see what I did to you every single time I close my eyes.” He sighed letting his arms drop to the side but still avoided looking at you.

“Ste-” You said softly before you were cut off.

“The only way I can cope is to make myself numb with the goddamn pills that the doctors gave me and I can't eat because I feel like I'm being constantly watched,” He continued. “I feel like I've become the things that terrified me.” He said his voice cracking, you just stared at him trying to process what he just said.

“Steve,” Your voice was still soft while trying to get up from your seat. “You didn't do this to me,” You said moving over to him and trying to make it so you were standing comfortably and less reliant on your crutches. “I would've died if you hadn't saved me.” You said falling slightly trying to stroke his arm which resulted in you grabbing it instead with him catching you by the waist so you didn’t fall into the coffee table and injure yourself more.

“If I had come up with a better lie though.” He sighed still holding onto you and helping you onto the couch.

“Do you really think I would've been safe?” You asked taking his hand and pulling him down gently so he was sitting next to you. “I mean Hopper was my dad and El was my sister.” You laughed before noticing the fact that his living room was littered with cigarette butts, you also noticed that there was a distinct smell of weed lingering in the air.

“They managed to protect you though.” Steve sighed running his fingers through his hair.

“You really don't think I would've found out?” You asked feeling slightly offended despite the fact you had no reason to be. “I mean the bullshit story about how she was a distant cousin that I never met who had lost both her parents in a car accident and they named my dad of all people to look after her if anything happened, really Steve?” You asked shaking your head feeling even more offended that your dad took you for a fool.

“It was me that revealed everything to you.” Steve said feeling a massive amount of guilt.

“Whether it was you, my dad, or El it wouldn't have changed the outcome.” You said trying to reassure him but you knew your words weren't getting through to him. “You can't change the past Steve but you can change the future and I'm not sure my future is in Hawkins but I do know I want you in mine, all you need to do is decide if you want me in yours.” You sighed getting up and making your way out the door, it wasn't until you had reached your car and was getting ready to unlock it when Steve came outside, you noticed all he had on were a pair of socks making you wince where you could imagine how cold he actually was.

“Don't go.” Steve said looking teary eyed leaning against your car door as if to stop you from getting in, with that you led Steve back indoors.

This was the first night where Steve didn't feel like he needed to be distracted in order to go back to sleep where you were close to him, it wasn't the most comfortable night sleep by any stretch of the imagination due to your cast but you were happy because you felt like you made the right decision to stay in Hawkins. Both of you knew that you had a lot of work to do if you were going to make this relationship work now, you also knew that even putting the work in the memories were still going to haunt you both but you prayed they wouldn't eat you alive and you were going to make it out stronger.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 1 #Stranger Things 2 #Stranger Things 3 #Stranger Things One Shot #Stranger Things Oneshot #Stranger Things x Reader #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Y/N #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington Angst #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Steve Harrington x Y/N #ST1 #ST2 #ST3

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 3- The Swedish Job

Summary: After learning of Diego’s wonderful ‘cough cough ‘terrible’ cough cough’ plan to stop the assassination of JFK. And figuring out Sir Reginald is in the recovered footage, you, Diego, and Five went out to find him. Ending the night with Diego getting shanked by his own father. Now here you are in the aftermath trying to convince Diego, he needs to rest.

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 If you want tagged just hit me up.

This is like 55% smut ngl.⚔️

To make a long story short, you didn’t end up talking it out with Sir Reginald Hargreeves, or find anything worth dying for either. No hidden notes or files were to be found. And all that you took away from this fun little adventure. A bleeding Diego, and a cranky old man in a 13-year-olds body who also happened to get scratched by an aggressive monkey. Who turned out to be baby Pogo, things have been weirder. So you took it in stride, and hauled Diego’s ass to Elliot’s house, while Five drove, you keeping pressure on the wound the whole time.

——

Getting some medical supplies ready, you glance at an unconscious Diego, who’s sleeping soundly on the couch. Shirt off and looking as handsome as ever, contrary to the bloody bandaid covering his injury that you applied earlier. So far he was doing fine, and that’s all you needed to know. You cursed yourself for not stepping up in time to prevent this little mishap. But how could you have known Diego would get stabbed? All that mattered was that he’s alive and not dead. Ben wouldn’t want anyone else hanging around Klaus most likely anyways. He deals with enough nonsense already, you assume.

While holding the steel medical instruments, one in each hand, you carefully position yourself next to Diego. Slowly bringing the utensils closer to his damaged skin, preparing to cauterize the bloody cut. A second later you make contact, hearing a gross sizzling sound and smelling the burning of human flesh. Disgusting. Instantly Diego’s eyes shoot open, gasping at the hot pain your causing him. Being dramatic and starting to get louder, sounding like drums in your ears. Not helping whatsoever.

“Would you quite yelling I’ve never done this before” You tell him honestly while concentrating on the task at hand.

“What happened?” Diego asks you, confused as to how he got here.

“I saved you...again.” You reply bluntly, still working on his wound.

“Did you even listen to the plans?” He mumbles sassily.

“Your plans were stupid and it was entertaining watching you get your ass kicked by your own dad, if I might add.” You reply while finally looking up at him.

Suddenly he goes wide eyed again, lifting his head up to better access the situation. “Where are my clothes Y/N?! The hell happened to my clothes?” He says distressed, trying to get up.

Frustrated with his lack of listening skills you push the cauterizing tool closer into his skin, listening to the sizzle once again. Diego looks down at the damage as he yells out loudly in agony, then abruptly laying down with a groan in defeat. Falling unconscious from the large influx of pain, and conveniently not moving again either. Good.

Focusing back on the task of playing doctor, Five sighs, walking into the room. “Oh. He isn’t dead.”

“Disappointed.” Lila asks, trailing in after him from some hidden corner.

“Oh, to see you? Always.” He jabs back.

“So much hostility in such a tiny package. How are you two friends?” She asks, glancing at you unamused by Five’s rudeness.

“He’s an added bonus for dating Diego.” You vaguely explain, smiling to yourself as she nods and focuses her attention back to Five.

“Did you cut yourself shaving? I could tech you to shave like a big boy.” Quips Lila bluntly.

Snorting in amusement at her banter with Five, you look over to him. Who’s holding up a cotton pad over his scratch marks. “No, just ran into an old family friend.” He says tiredly with a sigh.

Looking briefly behind him, he points to Elliot who’s still tied to the dentist chair, unable to properly speak. “Neither of you untied him?” He asks.

“I was preoccupied.” You shrug.

“I wasn’t told otherwise.” Lila says, while sitting down and reclining in a chair.

——

While you’re throwing one of Diego’s knives into the nearby wall for some pastime target practice. An annoying alarm begins to sound throughout the room, “Hey, we got one. Hey, one of those machines you asked for his going crazy.” Announces Elliot from across the room in his swivel chair. Five speeding past you to see what the commotions about.

“Which one?” He asks quickly.

“It’s the, uh, atmosphere radar.”

“Good.” Five adds.

“I don’t get it. What are they tracking? A hurricane? A storm front?” Elliot wonders, confused as to what his radar system is showing them.

“Sound waves.” They say collectively in realization.

Five starts to back away, you knowing exactly what he’s about to do. A flash and he’s gone.

“Wow. What...Hey, where are you going?” Inquires Elliot, not used to Five’s way of handling things. Which is usually alone.

Giving him a shrug you turn back around to throw another knife, hitting the bullseye with a thud, and splintering the wood in the process. “I wonder if he’ll actually find Vanya?” You think, pondering the possible whereabouts of the rest of your friends.

——

Halting your arm from throwing another dart, your ears prick, abruptly catching the sound of Diego creaking the bed from the other room. Oh that man is not about to get up, you thought, turning to Lila. “I’m gonna have to forfeit, wolfman apparently thinks he’s okay enough to get up.” You tell her while rolling your eyes, setting your spare darts on the table and turning to find Diego.

Walking into his makeshift room you watch as he painfully stands up from the bed, grimacing and trying to breathe steadily, as not to cause anymore pain for himself.

“So what are your plans now tough guy, by the way Elliot’s made mushy tuna.” You tell him while leaning against the door frame.

“No. It’s a tuna mold.” Replies Elliot while walking away with his tuna mold, half offended.

“Y/N, where’s my shirt?”

“Last I checked you had a stab wound, so if you can all of a sudden miraculously harness my healing powers. Your ass is staying in bed.” You tell him sternly, knowing he’s not gonna listen.

“What, no I can’t, this is all connected to JFK, and my Dad’s right in the middle of it.” He explains while putting pants on. “That’s why he attacked me last night.” Looking to your right you pick up a mop-less wooden stick, and decide to have some fun getting him to shut up. “Cause he knows that I’m actually getting closer to..” he doesn’t have time to finish before you poke him directly into his bandaged bloody wound. Earning a gargled yell from him in the process, he then falls directly onto the bed grunting in pain from your cheap shot.

“Yeah you look like you’re ready to throw hands, why don’t you fight me right now. And if you win I’ll let you go.” You tell him with a shit eating grin plastered onto your smug face.

He looks up at you slightly offended and very much frustrated. “What is wrong with you?” He exclaims from the bed, still in pain.

Throwing your arms up in irritation, you try and reason with his stubbornness. “Just going out on a limb here, but if I remember correctly, you almost got killed last night. Take a day off, D.” You tell him, setting your temporary weapon off to the side. Swiveling back around on one foot, you gracefully jump onto the bed, positioning yourself right next to Diego’s discouraged and mostly naked form.

Propping your left arm up to look down at Diego, he tells you sadly, “I can’t believe I got shanked by my own father.”

“Wild right. What a prick.” You say trying to comfort him with a little humor. “Listen, if it helps any, he didn’t know you were his son when he shanked you.”

“Still, he cheap-shotted me.” He says still looking sadly off into nowhere. “Man to man, that son of a bitch wouldn’t stand a chance.” He tells you with hidden fight in his voice.

Not wanting to fully dampen his withering spirits to much but still wanting to tease him a little. You carelessly caress his skin, trailing up to push on his cut ever so lightly. Pulling forth a pained gasp from Diego, giving him a silent reminder that’s he’s in no shape to fight.

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” He asks finally turning to face you. Taking his statement into consideration, you lay down next to him on your back. Staring up at the ceiling, you can feel his eyes on you. “I trust you Diego, just not what’s always going on up in there.” Pointing to your head, referring to Diego’s own problem making skills. Breathing heavily you start, “I know what it’s like to die, it’s lonely and dark. You feel cold and weak, you can’t move, see, hear, or feel anything.”

Sighing you continue, “I remember the first time I died. Have I ever told you about it?”

Looking at you more intensely now he replies in a whisper, “Never.”

You glance at him for a moment before diving right back into your story, trying to make a point as to why he shouldn't be actively putting himself in danger. “I was 5 at the time, my heightened senses and all that other shit came to be before I figured out I was immortal. It was hard not understanding why I could hear so well. Or run in the dark through my house without tripping, unlike my parents, who couldn’t see shit without a flashlight.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling with a troubled expression crossing your face, letting the memories flood back into your mind. “A fire started late one night, mum had left one of her scented candles burning on a wooden table downstairs. She didn’t mean to leave it there, but the dogs were getting rowdy again, so she had to put them away in their cages. And dad was already in bed snoozing away. I could smell the smoke before I new something was wrong, then I heard my mother screaming and my dad yelling for her to calm down.”

“Shit” Diego whispered.

“The fire had burned so fast through our house, it had gone up the stairs and reached our hallway. Fortunately for my parents, their room was at the end of the hall, so their escape to freedom was easy. But unfortunately for myself, I was trapped, I couldn’t open my windows and the door handle burned to much to touch. I huddled in the corner of my room terrified, and then just like that, my door was gone and the flames shot in.” You tell him with a shaky breath as a lone tear runs down the side of your face and into your hairline.

“What did it feel like?” He asks softly, nervous as to what you’re about to say. Letting you take your time.

“It was excruciating. I’d never felt pain like it before. Sure I’d scraped my knee or walked into the wall a couple times when I was smaller, it happens. But this pain, this was like having boiling water poured over you all while standing on hot coals.”

“Jesus.”

“When the firemen found me, they thought I was a charred corpse. They picked me up and set me down in the grass, and that’s when I woke up. The guy fainted and my mother rushed over to me in hysterics.” You yawned, tired from the emotional roller-coaster you were currently putting yourself through. “After that they realized something was definitely up with me, and 7 years later they decided I was to much to handle and then ‘poof’ I was an unwilling member of the Umbrella Academy. The end.” You finish, turning your head to look directly at Diego, as he sits up on his right elbow turning to fully face you.

“I had no idea. Why haven’t you ever told me before?” He wonders.

Bringing your jaded gaze back to Diego, you go to explain. “It’s not like it’s that fun of a memory. And anyways you never asked.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath, and relaxing again.

“I guess we could stay longer...for a bit. I guess that’s okay.” He murmurs in that gravely voice of his that you’ve missed so much.

Sitting up on your left elbow to meet his dark eyes, faces inches apart, you start to contemplate where this close proximity may lead you. Smoothly hinting at your excitement you tell him while smirking, “I’ve spent one year and 7 months trying to find you, if you don’t kiss me in the next...” you don’t have time to finish before his lips come crashing onto yours for a sweet and hungry embrace.

Pulling away instantly you lightly slap him across the face, making him groan loudly and throw his hands up to his stinging skin. “What the hell, Y/N?! What is wrong with you woman?!” He exclaims muffled by his hands, until he pulls them away to reveal an incredibly confused expression littering his features.

Laughing for a moment, you smile while climbing on top of him, pinning him to the bed between your unmoving legs, “You didn’t let me finish.” You say lovingly, hovering over Diego’s shirtless body.

“Ow. Oh, oh, ow, ow, ow.” Diego suddenly says while flinching in pain at the sudden new pressure of your body weight on his torso.

“Oh, shit. Sorry love.” You tell him smiling as you lean your body onto your legs more, so you’re not completely crushing him.

Mock glaring up at you, Diego breaks out into a huge smile. “Just. Be gentle.” He says kissing you again. “God, you’re the most weirdest and fantastic person I’ve ever met.” He says breathlessly, staring deep into your beaming eyes. Not being able to hold yourself back anymore you lean down attacking his lips in a heated embrace. His hands instantly go to your hips on instinct, like he’s done it a million times before. You both begin exploring each other’s bodies like it was the first time all over again, wanting nothing more then to feel every muscle and curve both of you have to offer.

Breaking his lips away from yours, he quickly goes to tell you something important, as a fake pout falls to your face, “These have to go.” He says, as he reaches for the bottom of your white tank top and begins to pull it up, you helping him speed up the process. Taking your shirt in one hand he throws it, not giving two fucks as to where it could have landed. You also not caring in the slightest, just eager to get things rolling. Next you skillfully unclasp your bra, taking it off and flinging it off to the side. Diego stares at you with a giant grin spread across his face. Reaching out to gently caress the sides of your breasts, his hands slowly trailing up your body to bring you down to kiss him again.

“I guess I won’t be needing these.” You mumble in between kisses. Referring to your pants and underwear, annoyingly concealing the prize jewels. On both of you in fact. Awkwardly struggling to rip your pants off, you lay next to Diego for a brief moment finally getting your jeans and chucking them across the small room. Jumping back into action, you straddle him, hands roaming all over each other once again. As your lips make contact, savoring every second with him for as long as you can.

Moaning in deep satisfaction you take a breath to tell Diego, “As much as I’m digging you in white, these things gotta go.” You explain while kissing his cheek, sneakily reaching down to tug at his tight white underwear that now are concealing a noticeable bulge. “You first mi amor.” He purrs seductively in your ear, you just about die. As gracefully as you can muster, you tear your undergarments off accidentally kneeing Diego in the gut, thankfully not near his stab wound. “Oh shit.” You laugh breathlessly, as Diego grunts in pain but only for a moment, before flipping you over, pinning you to the bed. “I’ll let that slid.” He says smiling at you, kissing you again real quick before he takes off his own underwear. Revealing the true king jewels, you’ve been absolutely dying for, no pun intended.

Diego looks deeply into your eyes, opening up your legs and kissing your inner thigh. Sending shock-waves of pleasure and pure joy throughout your whole being. God it’s been a long fucking time, you thought. As agonizingly slow as ever, Diego gently kisses your stomach. Inching his way up to your mouth with light butterfly kisses that make their way up in between your breasts, then to your collarbone, neck, cheeks, and eventually arriving at your wanting lips. All the while he continues to feverishly feel you up, you not shying away as you do the exact same. In true Diego style, without warning he thrusts into you, making you moan loudly in pleasant surprise. His thrusts are slow and full of passion at first, both of you savoring the moment for as long as you can take. Until it’s not enough for you anymore, you begin bucking your hips into his, trying to get more friction. Diego takes your not-so-subtle hint and obliges by picking up the pace., pounding into you harder, perfectly hitting your sweet spot every time.

“Ah, fuck.”

He grunts while pushing you further into the mattress with that muscular heavenly body of his. He sloppily kisses the side of your opened mouth that’s quietly releasing satisfied moans with each new thrust of his cock into your soaking walls. To say that you are on cloud nine would be a severe understatement. It’s been way to damn long since you’ve had a good fuck, and there was no way anyone from the 60′s was getting anything from you while you patiently waited for Diego. The bed shakes as his sweaty body rocks you back and forth into the soft blankets, your hands hold onto his back for support while he continues to fill you up to the max as he pulls in and out of you like a madman. You suddenly let out a shaky gasp when his hard cock hits your sweet spot in the most perfect of ways. He leans his elbows onto the bed as he looks down at your pleased face with a smile, satisfied with his fruitful work at making you get this way, so completely undone, and all because of Diego. You bite your lip as a knot begins to form into your dripping core, you open your eyes to watch as Diego appears to mirror you, he begins to moan loader as he starts pumping even harder into you, teetering on the edge of oblivion, you about to do the same. A couple more deep thrusts from Diego’s angelic body sends you fully over the edge, screaming in ecstasy as your orgasm explodes throughout your entire being. Practically sending sparks of electricity racing through you, your walls tighter around Diego’s cock as you ride out your high. With one more ragged thrust, Diego moans as his own orgasm hits, loudly spilling into you with everything he’s got left to give.

Kissing your sweaty cheek, Diego pulls out of you, flopping on the bed to your right while making it shake for a second. “God I love you, Y/N.” He says tiredly, not sure if it’s from the blood loss or your goddess-like body. Turning to face Diego, you scoot in closer, cuddling him as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you too, my hairy wolfman.” You tease him with a laugh. Closing your eyes you start to feel the weight of the past 24 hours hit you like a sack of bricks. Smiling in content and comfort, you reach down to pull the covers over your naked bodies, then throwing your left arm around Diego’s chest, hugging him gently before immediately dozing off. Diego lightly kissing your forehead, falling asleep shortly after.

——

Meanwhile.

“Hey, while those two love birds are busy I’m gonna head out, be back soon. Aight.” Lila tells Elliot, waving at him as she hastily slips out the backdoor, like a thief in the night.

Waving awkwardly back he watches as she leaves, hearing the sound of a projectile hitting the bedroom window. Causing him to jump, and grumpily walk downstairs with his tuna mold in hand.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

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rachaelswrites · 4 years

Text

Mission:AU

Prologue

Peter Parker x Barnes!reader

Ever since Thanos happened, your life changed forever. Two of the people you most admired left you. Natasha sacrificed herself and Steve left for Peggy. You were heartbroken but grateful you had your dad back. Fury didn’t let you have much time for grief before he tried to make you and Peter (who was grieving Tony still) the new Avengers. Bucky chewed Fury out for trying to get you back to missions. He gave you a month and then you were back in a briefing room; Sitting across from Peter. You always had taken a liking to him and not just because he was your age. You admired how he protected the people he loved and stood up for himself. You wished you were closer friends instead of co-workers. You would actually prefer if you were dating, but you kept that a secret.

Fury announced that you and Peter would be going on a mission together. Your goal was to stop a tech dealer and his was to intercept the delivery. You were leaving the next day so you decided to visit Steve before you left. He was the only person who knew about your crush on Peter. He swore to not tell anyone. Not even Bucky. You went to Steve a lot for either asking advice or just talking. You told him everything that you didn’t tell Bucky. He was one of the only people you trusted.

You knocked on the door to his apartment and he greeted you with a smile and a hug. You set your school bag down on the couch and went into the kitchen. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down at the table.

“Steve. You’ll never guess what happened!” you exclaimed.

Steve looked up from his newspaper he was reading, "What happened Y/n?” he hummed.

You took a swig of water and slammed it back down on the table, startling him.

“Fury assigned me and Peter on this mission. But it’s just us. Number one, I’m surprised that my dad didn't object to that and number two, what am I supposed to do Steve. You know. Because of the… you know.” you rambled.

Steve put his paper down and looked you in the eyes, "You’ve been able to hide it for so long. Why can’t you hide it for another few days?”

“It’s different this time,” you explained, “this time it’s just us and no one else. It’s awkward.”

“You know, I had my first kiss with Peggy on a mission. You never know what’s going to happen,” he shrugged.

“Eww. I didn’t need or want to hear that,” you checked the time and realized you should get home to your dad, “I gotta go Steve. I’ll be sure to keep you up to date.”

Steve nodded and you got your bag and left.

The next morning your dad went into your room and woke you up.

“Y/n doll, Peter’s here. You gotta leave in 10 minutes,” he said, shaking you softly.

You opened your eyes and rolled over. Your dad smiled at you and your eyes moved to the door. You shot up, when you saw Peter looking at you sheepishly. You looked at your alarm clock and saw that you overslept by an hour.

“Can you two leave so I can get dressed or do you wanna stay?” you asked.

Both of them nodded and left, Bucky closed the door behind him. You quickly got changed and grabbed the duffle bag you packed the night before. “Thank God I packed it last night” you thought. In the kitchen, Bucky was drinking coffee and talking to Peter.

You grabbed a package of pop tarts and turned to Peter, “Are you ready?”

Peter looked to you and then to Bucky, who had his eyebrows raised. Concerned for your poor choice of breakfast.

“Do you want to eat something else? We still have some time to spare,” Peter asked.

You shook your head and walked to Bucky. You gave him a hug and told him goodbye. Peter followed you out the door and into the hallway and down that stairs.

“Sorry I overslept. Normally I’m very punctual,” you explained.

“It’s fine Y/n. I don’t mind,” he said.

The rest of the way to HQ was silent and awkward. Every other time you were with him, there were other people around so no pressure on you to hold conversation. Peter had just gotten rejected by MJ, so asking him out now wouldn’t work. At some point you would have to confess before it all got too much for you. Your Hydra training helped you keep in your emotions and not show anything. Until you got to Wakanda that strategy worked well. Part of your recovery was to get in check with your emotions. You used journals, like your dad to write feelings and memories from your life. You kept them all in a small box under your bed. Bucky knew about the journals and their location but didn’t dare read them. He knew you were still dealing with your past. While under Hydra’s control, you didn’t have the option to be mind wiped so everything that happened was still fresh in your mind. Nobody outside of the doctors in Wakanda asked about your past; too afraid that you would get upset or angry with them. It was quite the opposite. You wanted to tell someone, but didn’t know how. You just hoped and prayed that someone else would break the ice for you.

You and Peter arrived at the hangar where the jet you would take was parked. A guard took both of your bags and set them onboard. Another guard walked up to Peter and handed him a folder, most likely containing info on the mission. You stood on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder. (you were a bit short for your age). He noticed you hovering and lowered the folder to your eye level. You shot him a smile and continued to read it. You learned that the piece of tech was some sort of machine that could alter space/time. You internally groaned. You had enough of weird sciencey stuff. You wish it was just normal, base infiltration like some of your older missions.

“Times are changing doll,” is what your dad always told you.

Both of you got on the jet and sat across from each other. Peter wanted to be your friend, it was just that he was intimidated by you. The first time he met you, you were only nine and you nearly kicked his butt in Germany. He would've tried to talk to you later, but Thanos happened.

“So uh. Are you excited to get back out there?” Peter asked you.

You looked up and shrugged your shoulders, "I dunno. I guess. I’m glad it’s not with my dad and Sam. I’m tired of hearing them bicker,” you said.

Peter chuckled and you made small talk the rest of the way.

Once you touched down, you took a cab and checked into the hotel. There was only one room booked for you two. Luckily enough there were two beds. You set your things on the bed while Peter went into the bathroom. You unzipped your bag and pulled out one of your journals. You always kept one with you. Just in case. You pulled the sheet off of the corner of the bed and placed the journal there. You placed one of the pillows over it to hide it. You grabbed a change of clothes and put it on the edge of the bed. You walked over to the window and drew the curtains open. You looked out into the night sky. You were only on the second floor, but the view was still breathtaking for you. You were on the edge of the city. You saw the silhouettes of all the buildings and looked up into the sky. You saw only a few stars because of the light pollution. You loved the stars and the night sky. One of your favorite things in Wakanda was the planetarium. Once Bucky was out of cryo-freeze, he would take you there every chance he could.

Peter walked out of the bathroom wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. You moved from the window and grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom. You took a quick shower and changed. You walked out and saw Peter sitting crisscross on his bed, doing some school work.

“Even on missions, you still do school work. That’s what I call dedication,” you teased.

He looked up from his textbook and smiled.

“School’s a bit different than it was in the forties,” he joked back.

You grabbed your hair brush and brushed through your wet hair.

Peter watched you intently, “Do you wanna join me?” he asked, patting the spot in front of him.

You set the brush down and jumped on the bed. You were now sitting across from each other. Every time Peter looked down at his book, you managed to study his face. You saw the way his eyebrows furrowed when something confused him and you saw the way his whole face relaxed when he got through something quickly. You quickly snapped out of your daydream when your phone started ringing. You got up from Peter's bed and checked it. It was your dad. You excused yourself from the room and his gaze followed you out the door.

“Hey dad what’s up?” you asked.

Bucky was sitting on the couch with his phone propped on the table. You heard Sam yelling something in the background.

“I’m doing good. I just wanted to make sure you got there ok. I already miss you,” he said.

“I miss you too and it’s only been less than a day.”

Bucky chuckled. “I just wanted to remind you to get a goodnight sleep. And to tell Parker to keep his hands to himself.”

“Daddd,” you groaned, “we have more important things to focus on than that,” You said goodbye and hung up.

You went back into the room, Peter was now flipping through channels on the tv. “Hey y/n do you wanna watch a movie?”

You really wanted to but, you knew that something was going to happen. Just like in the movies Shuri made you watch.

“I probably shouldn’t. We have a long day tomorrow. I’m going to go to bed but feel free to watch one,” you tried to sound sincere and it must’ve worked.

Peter turned the lamp off and you crawled into bed. You fell asleep within minutes.

You woke up early the next morning before Peter. He must’ve been up late, since the TV was still on from whatever he was watching. You quietly grabbed the journal and jotted down a few notes from a dream you had last night.

It was you, Bucky, and Steve at the beach. Right before they both decided to enlist. You remember the smell of the salty air and the breeze brushing on your skin. Your dad had wrapped you in a blanket, making sure you wouldn’t get sick. You watched as Bucky and Steve played a short game of toss. Keeping your three year old self entertained.

You finished writing and put it back in it’s hiding place. You got out of bed and rummaged through your bag to find your suit. You tiptoed past Peter’s sleeping form and into the bathroom to get ready.

After about another hour you had to wake Peter up. You shook his shoulder gently, “Hey Peter we gotta go or else we’re gonna miss it.”

Peter slowly opened his eyes. You moved away and started to gather up your things. Peter made his way into the bathroom and came back out in his suit. You always thought he looked good in it. You did think about confessing your feelings but were unsure of how he would react. You were technically way older than him, since your birthday was in 1939 but when you first saw each other, you were nine and he was fifteen. Then he got snapped two years later and you aged five years, which now made you only about a year apart. Did he still view you as the little girl at the airport or did he see you as the girl who fought Thanos twice? You didn’t know.

You both threw on jackets and headed back down to the lobby. Outside, you waited for a cab. Peter was still too sleepy to talk on the ride over but woke up as soon as you had to walk a block in the cold morning air.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“I slept like a baby. I had a really good dream too so that helped,” you said.

You guys reached the warehouse and Peter went inside and hid in the rafters. You ducked behind a huge storage unit and waited for the dealer to arrive. After a few hours, a black car pulled up to the door of the warehouse. You shifted to a position you could quickly spring up from. A tall man stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out what you assumed was the space/time machine thingy Peter was supposed to take. You inched along the container, trying to get closer. The man set up the machine right outside the door. You realized the deal was taking place outside and Peter would have to join you here.

“Hey Peter,” you whispered in the comms, “The deal is out here. I have to distract him for you.”

Before he could answer you pulled one of the knives you had and used the handle to create a loud noise. The man turned his attention away from the doorway and in your direction. It was only enough time for Peter to web the door and pull it open from the rafters. The man was startled and looked around for any signs of other people. You had to step up your game. You took a deep breath and stood up. You dragged the handle of the knife along the edge of the container while walking into plain view. The man looked at you and smirked.

“What are you doing here little girl?” he sneered.

You looked offended before responding. “Do I really look young enough to be called a little girl? I’m shocked.”

Peter took this as his cue to swing down and try and take the weapon. The man was faster and zapped Peter with it. Peter fell to the ground and you shrieked.

“Peter!” you tried to run to his side but you found yourself on the ground and blacked out.

#x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #marvel #bucky barnes x teen #bucky barnes x daughter #bucky barnes x teen!reader #bucky barnes x daughter!reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #peter parker fic #series #mission:au #peter parker x barnes!reader

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glitxhwayventeen · 3 years

Text

Lonely Hearts Club

Seokmin: Chapter 1 (One More Light)

Characters: Seokmin x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, angst, potential blood mentions, genocide mentions, runaway mentions, emotional manipulation? (If you can call it that? Idk you decide), mental illness (depression implied), sexual mentions, mentions of death, mentions of violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: This story is gonna be a bit of a heart puller. Sorry. But for this chapter anyways, I recommend listening to One More Light by Linkin Park because it really goes well with this chapter.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀

Lonely Hearts Club Master List

Chapter 1: One More Light

The way you moved was devastating. The way you laughed was harmonious. The way you smiled was infectious. The way you smelt was intoxicating. He’s been so giddy ever since you came through their doors. He finally found you.

His brothers had told him to wait and be patient, but who was he kidding, waiting was impossible for someone like him. He always had so much love to give. When he loved, he loved with all his heart. So it’s no surprise that he was already in love with his mate that he’d only known for a few days. He had told you he had imprinted on you the day after you woke up from your injury, three days ago. Your response was less than ideal, you simply let out an “okay” and walked the other way. He couldn’t lie, your reaction stung him a bit, he wanted you to be just as in love with him as he was with you.

You were really cold to him. Colder than you were with anyone else in the house. But he understood that that can happen sometimes and that it could take you some time to come to terms with having a mate. He was just hoping that time would speed up so he could reach his happily ever after sooner.

As you walked downstairs for dinner, you saw him sitting there again. Your eyes automatically went to him when he was in a room, you couldn’t stop it. No matter how hard you tried, your body’s natural reaction was to want to see him. He was already looking at you, before you had even made it fully down the stairs, with stars in his eyes. You couldn’t help but scoff under your breath.

Your stupid instincts once again had fucked you over. That’s what that new feeling you felt on the first day was, you had imprinted on a young wolf in Seungcheol’s pack. But You didn’t want a new mate. You didn’t NEED a new mate. You just wanted to be left alone. You just wanted to be left alone to die. But NOOOOO. They HAD to come and play heros and save you and keep you from seeing the end of a silver bullet. You understood that they were just trying to help, so you weren’t really upset with them, just more so sad that you had to continue with your shitty life.

While you were sitting down at the kitchen table eating, you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move like you were some sort of goddess. The feeling had your skin tingling. You hated it. Because, now that you had a mate, you knew you could go into heat. You’ve never had that problem before, you weren’t mature enough back then to experience it. But you knew it could end up VERY bad if you weren’t careful now that you were able to go through it.

Being in the same room with him was getting harder and harder. It felt like the room was getting hotter and hotter. Like you were suffocating in his delicious aroma. You couldn’t keep this up. By tomorrow, you knew you’d want to hump his brains out. And you DEFINITELY didn’t want that to happen.

You couldn’t deal with it much longer, as you finished your last few bites of your dinner, a reeling hot flash hit you when your eyes met and he looked deep into your icy blue orbs. You were sweating and you felt like your every layer of skin was being peeled back to expose all your nerves. The slight breeze in the room was making things that much worse. Fuck. You HAD to get out of there before this shit got more out of hand.

You quickly got up from your chair and washed your plate in their sink. It startled quite a few of the pack members around you and their mates because no one else had done that just yet. The boys could… smell- that something was different about you. They didn’t know what exactly as they had never even been around or heard of a female wolf before, but they still knew SOMETHING was weird with you. They just couldn’t put their finger on it. Even so, they tried to continue their dinner as nonchalantly as possible as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Well SOMEBODY’S in a rush” joked Joshua, who had his mate all but sitting on his lap feeding her portions of her food.

“Yeah (Y/N). You good?” Mingyu asked in a similar manner, but you could see he was actually curious as to why you wanted to make a sudden exit from the table.

“Yeah. I- uh- I’m fine. I just need to head back to my den tonight. I’ve been away too long and I- um- I need to go make sure everything’s alright.” You stuttered while not looking at any of them and with quite a bit of hesitation. You were hoping none of them would question why you were so on edge and why you wanted to leave. But obviously with Seokmin there, your hopes had been smashed to pieces the second he spoke up.

“You’re leaving??? You can’t leave! I mean- I didn’t mean it like that but- I mean, you still aren’t healed properly. You could get hurt again!” The frantic words left his mouth as soon as you had finished your own sentence moments before.

You couldn’t leave him, he just found you. He HAD to make you stay somehow. He couldn’t just let you walk away without knowing whether or not you’d come back to him. His heart was beating out of his chest in panic, what was he gonna do if you left him??

“I’ll be fine. I’ve taken care of myself for a long time now. I appreciate you guys helping me out but-” you tried to brush off their worry, wanting to make a quick get away as soon as possible. But Seokmin stood up from his seat and hurriedly retorted your little speech.

“But nothing! You still have a hard time walking around without holding onto something. There’s no way you’re leaving in this state!” He gestured with his hands as he got closer to you.

God, did he have to smell so fucking good? You had to shake the thought off, you had to control yourself. You had one focus right now and that was to leave before you did irreversible damage.

“Who are you my father? I can leave if I want to!And i WANT to leave! I have other things I have to do and I won’t put them on hold any longer! I can’t!” You punctuated your sentence by throwing your hands in the air.

“Seokmin’s right (Y/N). You still aren’t doing your best. If you’re not careful, you could get yourself killed. It’s probably best you stay here at least for another few days.” Hansol tried as the pack’s resident doctor in an attempt to keep his brother from going crazy at the idea of losing his mate so soon.

They all really liked you, even if you weren’t… the warmest person towards their packmate. They all could see you were just putting on a brave face. They didn’t want you to go run off and get yourself in trouble without them backing you up.

“I can’t! I have important business to attend to this week. I can’t put it on hold just because I’m still not 100% better. I have to go” you say, standing your ground as best you could with Seokmin standing right in front of you with his stupidly warm glowing aura that made you wanna tackle him to the ground with kisses.

You just wanted to grab his beautiful face and let him take you right then and there from the way he was biting his lip while looking at you. The thought made you shiver. But you couldn’t give in to those thoughts. You WOULDN’T give in to those thoughts. You didn’t want a new mate. You didn’t want him, you had to keep reminding yourself. But You NEEDED to get out of there, for both your sakes.

Seokmin was in a panic. He couldn’t lose you. What if you never came back? What if you go hurt? What if you ran away? What if he never saw you again? He couldn’t risk losing you. He couldn’t. He looked to Seungcheol, who was sitting at the table stroking his mate’ thigh, for help.

“Okay how ‘bout this (Y/N), You go finish whatever business it is that you need to finish and a few of us will check up on you in a couple of days to make sure you’re alright? That’s fair right? Besides, you’ll definitely need another healing session or two before you’ll be able to defend yourself fully alone again” Seungcheol suggested.

He knew his brother didn’t want you to leave their house, but he also knew forcing you to stay was definitely not the right thing to do in this situation. He knew trying to leash you down would only make you resent them and more defiant. At least this way, they could still make sure you were alright and you’d get some independence. Everyone would win. Seokmin had a little whine emit from his chest at the thought of not seeing you for a while, causing Cheol to look to his brother’s depressed face. Well… everyone would win except Seokmin that is…

“Fine! If that’s what it’ll take for you guys to let me go, fine. But I NEED to leave and I need to leave like yesterday!” You repeatedly tapped your foot to the ground, almost waiting for some sort of reaction from them.

Hansol got up from his seat, “Okay. How about we make sure you get to your cave safely? That way we can make sure we know you got there okay and we’ll know how to find you later for your check up.”

“Fine. That’s fine, whatever. But I need to go now!” you declared while heading for the door, knowing full well you didn’t bring anything to their home but the clothes on your back.

You never really owned anything anyways. You had to move around and run so much that you never thought it a good idea to own too many material possessions.

“Better get going then.” Seokmin said semi-coldly, not really wanting you to leave, but also realizing that he didn’t get much of a say.

On your way to your den, it was decided that Hansol, Jeonghan, Jun, and Seokmin would accompany you on the journey. They wanted to be sure they had enough people that would know where you were staying so they had multiple people who could find you later. They wanted an Alpha to go with you to make sure the boys stayed in line, mostly Seokmin, so they had Jeonghan go. Jun went because you were more comfortable with him as you were both foreigners and kind of hit it off, making fast and perfect friends. Hansol went because he was the pack’s healer and he would more than likely be one of the ones to check on you later. And of course, Seokmin went because he wanted to spend every possible second he could with you.

It wasn’t that far, an hour or two’s walk in human form at best. But You wanted to just dash there in your wolf form so you could get there. It irritated you that you couldn’t already shift to a more familiar form that you were used to and felt more safe in. Though you knew the boys with you just wanted to protect you, so you made the slow walk to your little home next to the boys.

“Hey (Y/N). Can I ask a question?” Jun spoke out of no where next to you.

“I mean you can ask, doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily get an answer though.” You causally let out, stepping over a big rock in order to continue your way to your den. You didn’t mean it in a mean way, the boys all knew that, it was just your personality. You preferred to keep things short, blunt, and sarcastic, kinda the exact opposite of your mate’s style.

Jun bit his lip and played with his large thumbs before his voice echoed out again, “Well I mean, I could hear you talking in your sleep these last few nights, We all could. It sounded like you were having quite a few nightmares. Does-Does that happen a lot?” He questioned, trying his absolute best not to offend you in the process.

“Eh. Yeah I guess, it’s not that big a deal though. You get used to it after a while.” You answered, not really wanting to elaborate but also knowing he wasn’t asking in a malicious way, more so in an ‘are you good bro?’ type of way.

“Oh okay. Well then can I ask who- who Cyrus is…?” Jun quietly stuttered again while trying hard to not upset you.

As the boys kept their walk going, you stopped for a moment. It didn’t go unnoticed by them so they halted as well. Jun, worried he had pushed you, tried to lighten the mood some more.

“I’m sorry (Y/N). I didn’t want to dig too deep into your personal life or anything. I just-” Jun spoke before you cut him off swiftly.

“No! I mean- it’s alright. I’d want to know if I was you guys too. I just… I- I haven’t heard his name said aloud in a long time ‘s all.” You responded while looking down at your feet as they started up their pace again.

They began following behind you as you continued with your answer to the Chinese wolf’s previous question, “Cyrus is- Cyrus WAS my mate” you croaked, trying to keep the tears back. You were NOT about to have some people you barely knew see you cry. No, that was definitely NOT happening.

“You- You had another mate?” Hansol said without even realizing he had added the word ‘another’ in his question.

It was still a bit of a touchy subject for both you and Seokmin as you hadn’t really accepted or denied him yet. This earned Hansol a nudge from Jeonghan. Seokmin, who had been staying quiet for most of the journey, was listening and processing your statement attentively. His heart rate sped up, you had another mate? It hurt him to think about it. He wanted to be your only one.

“Yeah. I- I did” you muttered, putting the word ‘another’ out of your mind and focusing on the question at hand, “A long time ago. He’s- He’s gone now. When he died… that’s when my nightmares started- that’s WHY my nightmares started.” You added, almost having reached your cave.

“… How did he- How did he die?” Seokmin let his voice out for the first time since you guys had left the house, startling you a bit.

You again hesitated to respond. You weren’t against talking about it. You just weren’t sure you wanted them to know just yet. You weren’t sure if you were ready for Seokmin to know just yet. But you knew you’d have to tell them all eventually, especially if they kept bugging you about it. So you decided to just sit the dirty laundry out and let it fall wherever it was meant to.

“Jun, you’re Chinese right?” You quizzed, slightly confusing them at the sudden question. They assumed you were just trying to change the subject.

“Yeah... I’m from Shenzhen.” He added, still very curious as to where your random ass knowledge came from.

“… You- You know what Lingchi is?” You say continuing to walk on.

As everyone else still kept walking the way to your den, Jun stopped entirely. His heart dropping at the word that you had linked to Seokmin’s earlier question. That’s what happened to him? That’s what happened to your MATE? The others didn’t understand, they didn’t know Chinese as they were all Korean and really had no need to learn a language that wasn’t used a whole lot in Korea. They knew a few words here and there do to having lived with Junhui and Minghao for so long and having had another Chinese pack for friends, but they never needed to know THAT word. At least, not until now.

“… That’s- That’s how he died?” Jun spoke up and all of you turned around at his distant voice. You could see the tears brimming on the brink of his water lines. He was sad for you. He was sad for your lost mate. He was sad at your whole situation and your whole backstory.

You cleared your seemingly very dry throat, “Yeah,” You said in a small voice, trying your best to hide any emotions that hit you like a rock through a window.

It upset you that while you were even speaking on such a serious topic, you were about to start heat and you still felt it creeping up on you. You tried to shake the dirtier thoughts away and just decided to do your best to get through it in one piece. You really wished that Seokmin would’ve stayed back at the pack’s house. He was making everything sooo much harder for you. You wanted to be able to be upset, but how could you when your every instinct at the moment was telling you to jump his bones?

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry… I- I didn’t know… I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have asked if I had known.” Jun shook his head to flick the tears back and brought his hand to your small shoulder in comfort, looking at you with almost pleading eyes.

You gave him a small smile and put you little hand on top of his larger one and gave it a small squeeze, “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.” You whispered out, gently brushing his limb from your body as you started walking again, clearly indicating that you were too emotional to keep talking about the subject anymore. The others just followed your movements wordlessly, not really understanding the gravity of the whole situation like their brother did, but knowing that whatever it was you were talking about couldn’t have been good.

It was a few more minutes until you reached the mountain opening you were searching for. You had walked in silence the rest of the way there, the evidence of your and Jun’s serious topic still lingering in the air. The others had other conversations they wanted to have, but knowing that you spoke of your last mates demise without actually having an idea of what happened to him made them reluctant to speak.

“Okay.” Hansol finally broke the ice, “We’ll be back to check in on you in a couple of days okay? If you need us, don’t hesitate to give us a howl! Someone’s home at all times. We’ll find you. So don’t run out on us got it?” He joked as he lightly pushed your shoulder as a symbol of affection.

You had taken a liking to Hansol almost immediately, he was a very calm and positive person, he felt like your natural brother already. He made you feel like you were such an outcast and tried to make you feel included. So you lightly pushed his shoulder back playfully.

“Okay okay. I’ll be here don’t worry! Just give me like five or six days to get some stuff done. Then you’ll be able to check on me” you stated as you gave him a big bear hug, though you kept it short so you wouldn’t get too much contact that would aggravate your heat any further.

You went on and hugged the other boys too in similar ways, discluding Seokmin as you were worried that, if you touched him, you’d completely lose it. So you simply just gave him a head nod and said your goodbyes verbally. It hurt him that you didn’t give him a hug goodbye too since it would be a while since he saw you next, he didn’t even know why you wanted to go back to your cave or why you refused to be near him recently. So he took the lack of contact a bit more to heart than you had meant for him to, but still, he said nothing. He didn’t want to agitate you or risk you potentially not coming back due to his actions or words.

As the boys left the cave, one sure question was on all three of the boys minds.

“Hey Jun” Seokmin caught his brother’s attention as they walked home and were finally far enough away from your den to where you couldn’t hear them anymore.

“Yeah?” He responded cooly while cruising back down the path home.

“What’s Lingchi?” Seokmin questioned. All three of the Korean boys turned to him as they waited for an answer. Junhui gulped in response.

He really had to explain one of the worst things he could think of to his brothers, one of them being your current mate who would no doubt be seriously disturbed by the sudden declaration of your old mate’s fate. Perfect.

“Lingchi- it… it usually means… Lingering Death. When talking about- well- said death, it means- it means Slow Slicing.” Jun let out as he looked on while shoving his hands in his pockets as he tried to act off his discomfort of the topic at hand.

“Slow Slicing?” Jeonghan questioned, also wanting some sort of explanation or further elaboration on what Jun was talking about.

“Yeah. It- It’s also known as- I think you’d guys call it… Death By A Thousand Cuts.” Jun slowly let his words simmer out, trying his best to not sound affected by the thought of that happening to someone he had known’s mate.

“Tha- THAT’S how he died???” Seokmin panicked, knowing full well how that must have affected you. His heart felt like it had just gained 100 pounds in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah. They usually used some kind of sword… and they kept cutting shallow slices into a person until they bled to death. It’s- Death By A Thousand Cuts- it’s really a terribly slow and horribly painful way to die.” Jun reiterated while kicking a rock close to his feet.

He wasn’t even sure if he should’ve told them to begin with, it wasn’t his mate that met that fate after all, but he also knew that if he were you he wouldn’t have wanted to be the one who explained it. So he took it upon himself hoping you wouldn’t hate him later.

“Fuck.” Jeonghan breathed loudly as he ran his hand through his hair, having finally have reached the house.

“That’s fucking awful” Hansol added.

It was awful. Your mate died in one of the worst ways possible. And, from how bad your nightmares sounded, he figured you must have seen at least some of it. He felt terrible for you. And he was mad at himself for being slightly jealous earlier at the mention of your old mates name now. No wonder you were so cut off from him. You were numb. You didn’t want to go through that again, and he couldn’t blame you. If he saw that happen to you, he’d jump off a cliff and end it all.

Still, he promised himself that night that he’d do everything he could to get you to see that he would stay with you always and that he’d keep you safe forever. He was determined to show you that you’d never have to go through that again. He just needed to figure out how to do that in like five days. No fucking biggie or anything. Little did he know that five days from now, your past mate couldn’t have been further from your mind…

Another Author’s Note: Hi guys! So I just want to put out there that I’m not Chinese, I’m Mexican. I think I used the word right but if I didn’t, PLEASE let me know. I asked one of my friends for help with it, but she only uses conversational Mandarin with her family and isn’t 100% fluent. Everything I’ve looked up says that it’s the right word to use in Mandarin for it and use of the language was kind of essential for this particular chapter as I needed the suspense of having the characters have to ask someone later what it meant. Again PLEASE let me know if it’s wrong or if there’s a better word for it! Hope you guys liked this chapter because the next one will be super fun😉

(Updated 9/8)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #seokmin imagines #svt seokmin #dokyeom #svt dk

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