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1kook · 4 years

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

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Voracious | slice of life | kth & jjk

Genre: fluff, bi poly established relationship Pairing: idol!taehyung x idol!jungkook x reader Word Count: 1.9k Rating: E for EVERYONE Warnings: none really, mentions of sex but that’s it. Author’s Note: This is just a few slice of life scenarios between the trio and WHAT HAPPENED IN BRAZIL.

“Hyung, where did you hide the popcorn?!” Jungkook yelled from the kitchen.

You heard Tae sigh heavily next to you as his whole body went slack with exasperation.

“What makes you think I hid it!?” he yelled back, head against the back of the couch. You saw his eyes searching the ceiling as he waited for an answer.

“Because!”

“Jungkook, if I remember correctly, your greasy little fingers were all over that box two nights ago when you ate half of it while playing Overwatch!”

“That’s beside the point! You know I suck at cleaning up, but the box was gone when I came back in the kitchen.”

You heard cabinet doors slamming and heavy sighs coming from the kitchen.

“_____!” he yelled this time.

“Yes, dear?” You looked at Tae who just rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where did you hide the popcorn?!”

Morning sunlight filtered in through your window. Promotions were happening so you were enjoying some alone time lately. It wasn’t that you didn’t like being around Tae and Jungkook, or the rest of the boys for that matter, but sometimes being alone was welcomed. Your eyes barely opened, squinting against the intruding light. You must have slept later than you usually did, but that made sense since you had a Netflix binge the night before. You turned over, moaning, and grabbed a pillow to cuddle against it when there was a knock at your door.

You sat bolt upright, alarmed, because no one should be on this floor unless it were staff. Slowly, you slid out of bed, feet hitting the cold floor and you walked down the hallway to the front door. There were no other knocks on the door, so you looked through your peephole first. No one was in the hallway, but that didn’t mean anything. You opened the door slowly, leaving the chain on to peer out. Nothing. Not until you looked down. A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the floor in front of your door. It was adorned with several different colored roses, baby’s breath, and some greenery. Shutting the door again, you slid the chain out of place and reached out for the fragrant gift. You brought it inside and sat it on your kitchen counter, plucking the card from the middle. It was from a local flower shop you recognized. Sliding the card out of the envelope you turned it over to read:

We miss and love you. See you next week, baby. -Tae & Jjk.

The day shone brightly, and the cherry blossoms were falling from the trees like pink snow. You laid back with your head on Jungkook’s stomach. Your head softly rose and fell with his breathing and you didn’t think the day could be any more perfect. It was just the two of you and you both decided a picnic would be a nice change of pace.

He hummed lightly and exhaled deeply.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

Bodyguards were close by, but out of sight so you felt alone among the trees. The breeze picked up and more flowers drifted down on and around you. The smell on the air was sweet and clean. It had been a while since the air was this clean and you felt like you could breathe deeply again.

“Everything’s perfect.”

The door slammed behind Tae as he stormed out of your apartment. You screamed out in frustration as you stomped your foot, mad that he left. The night had started out so nicely until you wanted to leave the building to go to the corner store.

“It’s not safe,” he had said.

Nothing was ever safe and sometimes Tae could get a little overbearing when it came to you. You knew he meant well and he just worried, but sometimes it was a little too much.

“I just want to walk a couple of blocks to get some snacks, that’s all,” you said throwing your arms out.

The argument quickly escalated with a stunned looking Jungkook standing at the island with a tub of ice cream. He had asked you to bring him back some ramen too but now he wasn’t getting any.

When you turned around, Jungkook was standing close behind you, and you practically ran into him, burying your face into his hoodie and screaming again.

“Why is he like this?” Your voice was muffled into the fabric.

Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you as he held you tightly, cheek resting on the top of your head.

“He’s just scared.”

You scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t know why.”

He sighed before he spoke. “Tae is really good at expressing his feelings and helping others, but when it comes to you, he seems to be stumped. He loves you so much and the thought of losing you in any way scares him. It just overwhelms him when he feels like he can’t protect you all the time. When we’re away he constantly worries about you. Why do you think you get so many texts?”

You laughed a little. This was why you always shared your phone’s location with the both of them, but he still kept tabs whenever possible.

“I just wish he trusted me.”

“He trusts you, just nobody else.”

Brazil

Jungkook was stark naked and running his fingers through his hair nervously.

“What did I do?!” His voice was frantic, on the verge of absolute panic as he paced the room. Tears welled up in his eyes and were soon falling over as reached the bedside again.

“Jungkook,” Tae said sternly, cellphone in hand with a cool cloth to your forehead.

You had passed out mid…coitus and Jungkook just so happened to be the person at the time when you went slack. He hadn’t noticed for a couple of seconds and when he did, he had grabbed you by the shoulders, making sure you weren’t playing some joke on him. When you didn’t move or wake up his panic set in and by that time, Tae was at your side trying to stir you awake.

“I’m going to need you to calm down while I call for help. Keep her on her side.”

Jungkook was sniffling, snot ran down his face and mixed with his tears, but he came to your side anyway and held you, keeping the cloth on your forehead though he wasn’t sure how much it was helping. You looked like you were sleeping, but you wouldn’t wake up, granted, this had all happened in less than five minutes. A few seconds after Tae had gotten up, you began to stir. Jungkook let out a shuddering breath of relief as your eyelids fluttered.

“T-Tae,” he stuttered.

Tae walked over quickly, phone still on his ear as he kneeled next to the bed.

“Jungkook, put on some clothes and grab some for me, okay?” Tae was calmer now as he placed a warm hand on Jungkook’s leg.

Jungkook nodded obediently, hesitant to leave your side, but knew he needed to move. Tae watched as you started to moan, eyes momentarily opening but closing again and he felt helpless. A few minutes later, and they were both fully clothed and pulled clothes on to you as Jungkook scooped you up and had you out of the building and into a car.

“She had a mild seizure,” the doctor said as he came into the room.

As soon as they had made it to a hospital with you, you were taken away and Jungkook, Tae, and Namjoon, who had tagged along, were left waiting in a private wait area.

“What does that mean?” Jungkook asked innocently.

“Well, sometimes it’s unknown what sets it off. Has she experienced anything like this before?”

“No,” Tae said simply.

“It’s something that’ll need to be monitored. Sometimes stress can bring them on or some other events. It’s good that she regained consciousness soon after. Most of the time, these are associated with epilepsy, but I’m not entirely sure that’s the case.”

“Can she come back with us?”

“Of course. I just need some papers filled out and she can be discharged tonight.”

Jungkook slumped tiredly in the chair with relief. He looked close to tears again as Tae reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Thank you, doctor,” Namjoon said politely.

He walked away and the tears started to spill from Jungkook’s eyes again.

“I thought I killed her…”

“With your dick? No way.”

Tae doubled over with laughter as Jungkook shot daggers at Namjoon.

“If I didn’t like you so much, I’d punch you.”

You were incredibly and irrevocably homesick. You had been travelling with the group for months and were almost ready to board the next flight back home. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your time with them, but you were ready to be in your own bed and to stop moving. You weren’t entirely sure how they did it with a smile on their faces. Of course, you had seen them break down plenty of times; had been there when they almost passed out backstage and held them in your arms into the early morning hours as they cried. But you didn’t want to come across as selfish, not to them. So, you smiled, and went with the movements.

“Hey.” You heard Tae’s deep whisper next to you as you stood in the hotel’s hallway. He had just texted you to meet him and you were standing, scrolling through your phone, and waiting for him.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, turning towards his voice.

“Yea, follow me,” he said, grabbing your hand.

He led you down the hallway and to the elevator, pressing the button to the topmost floor.

“Where are we going?”

His smile was warm as he looked down at you, arm wrapping around your waist to draw you in closer.

“You’ll see.”

When you arrived to the floor he led you down the hallway to a set of stairs with a sign on the door that said ‘roof’.

“Are we supposed-“

“Don’t worry about it.” His smile was mischievous, and you were wondering if he were about to get the both of you in trouble. When you reached the top of the stairs, he instructed you to close your eyes. Reluctantly, you did so. You heard the crunch of the small gravel topped roof under your feet and the whip of the wind that was surprisingly calm otherwise.

“Okay, open them,” he said.

Before you, he had set up a table with all your favorite foods that he could find, complete with several electronic candles.

“When did you do this? And why?” You turned to him, wide eyed.

He scratched the back of his neck as he blushed.

“Well, I gave the staff a list of things you liked, since we had practice today…and well, I had some help, but…I know you’ve been missing home and I wanted you to feel better.”

You stood, shocked, that he had even noticed.

“If it’s too much we can take it back to the-“ You cut him off as you surged forward, hands on his cheeks, as you pulled him down to you for a kiss.

“I love you Kim Taehyung,” you whispered against his lips.

You heard his breath catch in his throat, the wind blew his long hair into your face and tickled your nose, the air was a little biting but none of it mattered.

He smiled, nuzzling his nose along yours in an eskimo kiss.

“I love you.”

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #voracious drabble #jungkook #taehyung #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #jungkook x taehyung x reader #bi poly relationship #bi poly bts #reader insert #idol!au #idol!jungkook #idol!taehyung

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factual-fantasy · 4 years

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More asks!! :}

Hmm.. I haven’t really thought about it before.. Maybe he’d look something like this?

Mostly simplistic face, roundish and short features? I would’ve tried to draw his whole body but I didn’t have the energy at the time.

Well, it would be very difficult for him to learn, and because he isn't deaf and because he’s Cybertronian, I don't think he would have much of a use for it..

He doesn’t. 😐

I am currently working on one about Suburban and Escort. I’m very glad that people seem interested. :} My only concern now is that the topic I’m writing about is too dark and inappropriate to share with my followers. Quote from the fic,

“Escort curled up away from Suburban ashamed. “Did you do this to yourself?” He asked. Escort nodded. “Why?“ he asked with sadness and confusion forming in his voice. “

Although this quote is subject to change, they’re still talking about a rather dark subject..

That.. that could work. Redrawing something I’ve already drawn.. like, how could you portray my characters in a way I’m uncomfortable with, if you’re just redrawing something I already drew?

That might just be it.. And hey, maybe drawing scenes from fics that I have described could work too.. Also if someone wanted to just draw one of my OCs smiling or something like that, that could be okay too.

I’ll think about it.. I haven’t made a choice yet, but I’ll keep thinking..

Hello! Man, the number of ideas I just got is insane.

So, The bots’ first impressions of Halloween were the costumes the kids and Agent Fowler wore on Halloween night. The kids went to some kind of Halloween party at their school and then went to the base after, here’s what they dressed up as. Agent Fowler wore a Jack-o'-lantern patterned tie, Miko dressed up as a werewolf, Raf dressed up as a Vampire, and Jack dressed up as a rather realistic looking zombie. Forgive me if this isn’t what you think they’d be I’m just not that creative. - -;

The main members of team prime, I.e Optimus, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee, weren’t fazed much by the costumes. They already knew what Halloween was and that the kids would come to the base that night all dressed up in costumes. It still startled Ratchet none the less though, seeing Raf looking sickly pale and seeing Jack look like he had just been attacked by a Scraplet would startle any medic.

The rest of them however? This was their first introduction to the holiday and the to the concept of scary costumes. Suburban, Escort and Red Van FREAKED. OUT. They went into full panic mode when they saw Jack. They thought the poor kid had been attacked by some kind of wild animal!

Miata kind’a panicked a little not gonna lie, but she calmed down pretty quick when it was all explained to her. She thought the costumes looked very scary, In a good way. :}

Volvo freaked out the most anyone has ever seen him freak out when he saw the kids. They looked sick and deformed! He started panicking and wanted to help them but he was legit too afraid to touch them. It took a lot of talking to get him to calm down and understand that they weren’t sick or wounded. They were just wearing costumes. What ever those were.

When the kids went to Brown Suburban and asked how they looked, he saw their happy expressions, and instantly knew that nothing was wrong. He gave them a thumbs up and said they looked great. He didn't need to understand why they looked like that, he just knew by their faces that they weren’t actually hurt or sick, and that’s all that mattered.

Well, Miko jumped out from behind a corner to scare U.M.Dragster, and nearly got kicked so.. he doesn't like the costumes since technically... he almost killed a human because of one.

A.T.Dragster just kind’a looked at them like,

After it was all explained she was chill though.

Green Truck:

He didn’t understand what he was looking at, at first. He was too distracted by what ever was up with Miko’s head to be freaking out over Jacks face. They explained what the costumes were before he had a chance to register how horrifying Jack’s face looked. He didn’t fully understand the concept of Halloween, but he said they looked great in their “customs.”

Vega nearly had a spark attack, bless his soul, he was so worried. He asked them what happened and who did this to them. They got him to calm down and explained that they were just costumes. He didn't fully understand what that meant, but he was relieved to hear that they were okay and the wounds on Jack’s face were fake.

White Truck: “Hey guys!.. Yo, what’s up with your faces..?..... “Just costumes”..? Huh, well alrighty. You guys looks cool!.. I think? <:D ??”

Beluga, like everyone else, got spooked. But once it was explained, she wanted a costume too. :}

Honda nearly glitch smacked Jack, he scared the absolute snot out of her. Safe to say she doesn’t like the costumes.

Ranger:

Jeepy didn’t have much of a reaction, he was startled sure, but he understood rather quickly that the kids were fine and that these were just costumes.

Bash Buggy didn’t notice anything different about the kids what so ever. He cant see faces or color, so he couldn’t tell that Rafs skin was deathly pale and he couldn’t tell how mutilated Jack looked because he couldn’t see the details on his face. Now, Miko was wearing a big rubber werewolf mask, so when she walked past him, Bash Buggy could see how deformed and enlarged the shape of her head looked. And he legit went,

There is no need to draw me like one, for I already have!!

Since it is spoopy season, I wanted to draw me being real scary and such.

It didn’t work out. XD

Can you make an Kiwi levitate?

*winded* T H A N K Sh hh hh

#my response #transformer ocs

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a-crimson-lion · 4 years

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I Need To Stop Reading Into Things…😂

Yet again for @kiricookie .

[Check out this post first.]

So… we’re here again. Lord forgive me, I’m back on my bulls***.

Okay, jokes aside, I really should stop doing these things, but I am a stubborn individual. Plus, I wanna see how our notes compare, and try to have more civil discussions on the internet than I see on average. I’d reblog, but again, your post is already long as is (not incredibly long, but still), and I’d rather not occupy dashboard space more than I need to.

Alright, I think I’ve said my piece. Let’s talk about your post…

Oof. Starting right in the heart of the issue, really.

I am aware that Izuku is… incredibly likeable. I am aware that some of his issues, while perceived by some as noble, are heavily problematic and probably need to get sorted out before the boy gets a close audience with death. I am also aware that some of his habits are less than courteous in some circumstances, though like you said, Izuku has the benefit of having no malicious intent when it comes to these actions, even if they can come off as annoying.

Now, regarding Katsuki’s snail pace development… I get what you’re trying to say, but that doesn’t make it come off as any less frustrating...

As much as I want to believe that Katsuki’s upbringing in society is what’s stunted his growth so badly, I wish the narrative was more willing to show it. All we’ve gotten of Katsuki’s past are flashbacks from Izuku, remarks during the visit to the Bakugo household, and the “raised with violence” line from the Remedial Course arc. Now this understandably paints a pretty terrible picture, but uh… what has Katsuki done to try to fix it? How has Katsuki tried to demonstrate that his upbringing wasn’t justified? Why is he imitating the behaviors he supposedly despises, that supposedly keep him held back, instead of trying to find a workaround? I’ve only seen a few growth/redemption arcs of antagonistic characters, but even if the arcs took long, there was always an ultimate reason for doing so. And Katsuki doesn’t have that. At least, not yet.

It’s been implicitly established that Katsuki’s growth will be the mother of all slowburns. I’ve mentioned it in this old post of mine, but this is doing Katsuki no favors, at least for me. Now don’t get me wrong, I love myself a flawed character, but there’s only so much I can stomach before a flawed character becomes less “flawed” and more “asshole.” I personally believe that his true growth doesn’t get started until “Deku vs. Kacchan 2” (Episode 61), but if we really wanna consider that “Bakugo’s Start Line” (Episode 8) is his… well, start line, then that only makes it worse. Because again, his character arc is, as we’ve established, slow. But the fact that it’s slow enough for several other character arcs to transpire (Shoto, Tenya), as well as slow enough to allow “background characters” some significant development and return to relevancy (Eijiro, Hitoshi), I start wanting to stop holding my breath for his arc’s supposedly inevitable conclusion. Now I know you personally consider the suspense a positive, but it’s the opposite for me. I’d chalk it up to impatience, but again, MULTIPLE character arcs have transpired, and a few have been far more believably gradual compared to Katsuki’s.

While it is impressive that Katsuki was willing to pour out his feelings to Izuku, I’d like to argue that it wasn’t as… well, sentimental. Remember that society and Izuku’s peers before UA regarded him as the lowest of the low. The weakest, the most worthless. “The pebble in the path.” Considering that Katsuki lost the Training Exercise AND technically got outsmarted by Izuku, who was considered this until VERY RECENTLY, I’d imagine that’d be one hell of a blow to his ego. It is still significant that he’s willing to talk to Izuku about this, but it’s not exactly because he’s humbling himself. It’s because he’s begrudgingly admitting that he’s not the best, and it’s been well established that he HATES not being the absolute best. And I don’t know about you, but suddenly getting your high expectations crushed after years of nothing but “positive reinforcement” should not be made as big of a deal as it is here. I’m not saying to get over it, because you’ll never get over it, you have to live with it and learn from it, but don’t make it seem like it’s the end of the world and a half like Katsuki did in that scene. Plus, didn’t he essentially reaffirm that he was going to do what he planned to do from the start of his tenure at UA? I mean, good on him for his dedication, but you’d think the guy would want to take a step back and actually try to learn from others if they were so impressive.

Now, the DC Superhero franchise falls in and out from my radar at times, but I don’t think Katsuki and Batman are a good comparison for the point you're trying to make. Yes they both use violence, and yes they’re both intimidating, but for entirely different reasons. Batman uses fear tactics because he finds them efficient; I don’t know what they’re doing with his character nowadays, but from what I can gather in his earlier incarnations, Batman’s not out for blood. Vengeace, sure, but he doesn’t waste time getting there beating the snot out of his enemies. He takes care of them, sends them off, and keeps on trucking. Before they tried making him even more edgy, he didn’t kill and he kept away from firearms because he was well aware of any issues he had. He may not be a goodie two-shoes like most heroes, but he does show definitive empathy in some of his earlier incarnations. Remember, Batman was the kid who lost his parents to injustice. That was his entire reason for taking up the cowl, for becoming more than Bruce Wayne. In the Justice League Unlimited Episode “Epilogue,” he has the option to kill Ace, a teen villain with dangerously growing psychic powers. He doesn’t do that. He takes the seat next to Ace as she begins to die. He offers his support as Ace has to confront the terrifying realization that she is dying. He’s helping another scared kid, because he knows what it’s like.

That’s heroism. That’s Batman.

Katsuki’s motivations and actions aren’t as sympathetic. Him lashing out isn’t for anything strategical; early on in the series and even after his “Start Line,” up until the Endeavor Agency Arc, I believe, Katsuki’s sole motivations are victory and bloodlust. Even if it seems like he’s growing more chivalrous with his resolve, he backslides so many times back into the angry loudmouth trope its hard to want to keep hope, because if he can backslide multiple times before, what’s to stop him from backsliding again? It ruins the suspense for some people. And people are intimidated by Katsuki, but that’s because he’s borderline unhinged. I’d be scared s***less too if a pyrokinetic powerhouse was gunning on me with his eyes glowing like the fires of Hell as he radiated killing intent (an exaggeration, but still). I have yet to see Katsuki use this intimidation “tactic” of his beyond the fact that he appears to be enjoying it, either.

Alright, enough of that, let’s analyze that penultimate question: why hate Katsuki? If you asked me early on, I would say that yes, I don’t like him because he hurts Izuku. But as I’ve continued looking throughout the series, I now say that I don’t like him because, contrary to what he says, virtually everything is handed to him. Most of the time, its people mistaking his battle thirst as chivalrous determination, whether it be against a villain or just a standard opponent. He never tries to make himself any more “likeable,” and while Class 1-A is quick to call him out for this in the USJ Arc, by the Sports Festival they’re all flocking to him, and I have yet to understand any proper reasoning for this. It’s less like Katsuki proving there’s more to him than meets the eye and earning the respect of his peers, and more so that people latch on to the abstract concept of Katsuki’s coolness and strength, and he just begrudgingly tolerates them from there.

I mean, Eijiro was wholeheartedly against Katsuki’s actions during the Battle Trial, yet by the USJ the difference is night and day, and it doesn’t help that he’s interpreting Katsuki’s desire to beat up villains as “faith in his classmates.” Shoto was abused by Endeavor, so the fact that he can’t at least draw some comparisons between Katsuki and his sperm donor is slightly concerning, and while I want to chalk it up to his stunted social skills, I feel like Hori and/or his editors trying to shove in a friendship to increase their overall likeability (especially Katsuki’s) is more likely. Don’t even get me started on the hoops they jump through in the Joint Training Arc. Not even gonna touch that…

Okay, finally made it to the last paragraph. So, here’s something about me you may or may not like: I don’t like people dying, good or bad. Unless their actions are comparable to that of Satan, or at least close, then they shouldn’t get the axe. Why?

Because a dead person can’t change… and a dead person can’t suffer.

Believe me, even though I’ve fallen off the bandwagon a long time ago, I want Katsuki to change for the better. And he can’t do that if he’s dead. The manga’s most recent arc has been hella frustrating because of that, and no spoilers, but the two deaths that did occur did not leave me in high spirits. Hawks, Shigaraki, you both are on thin f***ing ice I swear. So no, lucky for you, I do NOT want to see Katsuki dead just because he happens to be an ass. What I wanna see is proper repercussions that go beyond being a villain hostage and having everyone else’s potential trauma downplayed for the sake of giving Katsuki more sympathy points.

Also, I’m well aware Katsuki’s death would absolutely ruin Izuku. I am also well aware that it is one of the few concrete facts I hate with nearly every fiber of my body. Not because of what it says about Izuku…

...but because I am sick and tired of Katsuki continuing to be the arrogant s*** he is, whether it be his genuine feelings or merely a front. I am sick of the fact that for as smart and aware that someone like him is, he still insists on trying to act like a badass when there is no need or overall expectation to do so. I am sick that he continues to decide to put himself and others in jeopardy, all for the purpose of maintaining his ego. I am sick that he gets all this support, all this help, and yet his development is still worse than a snail’s pace, and the narrative continues to keep letting him off with love taps and leaving him unfairly unprepared for the kill shot.

...maybe Katsuki deserves to get better. But is this really the best way to do it? Really?

Thanks for listening. Hope you got something from all of that.

-Crimson Lion (24 August 2020)

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #don't really know if these count as anti baku anymore. still tagging just in case.#anti bakugo #anti bakugou #character analysis #charater comparissons #character meta #meta #rant #response #Word Count: 1906 #...why do I keep doing this to myself? :'-D #yo kiricookie #while you're waiting to see heroes rising have this to tide you over #hope you enjoy it

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sierrabinondo · 4 years

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2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could.

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration.

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid.

then... the following week came.

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of.

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah.

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.”

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic.

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried.

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal.

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs.

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH. i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am

-watching so. much. anime.

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Howbout a story where everyone is out of the studio and they get to go back to their families?

Summary: Recovery is hard when you feel disconnected from the world around you.

---

[[MORE]]

In total, Henry had spent an entire 5 years stuck inside the seemingly never-ending loop that Joey had designated as the Cycle. It was absolutely surreal to the old cartoonist, reading his ex-childhood friend turned tormentor's notes and studies on the subject matter. The neat cursive detailing mad ramblings that could pass off as the musings of an overzealous researcher observing terrified mice in a booby-trapped maze. Studying their patterns, the subsequent changes of them upon additional stimuli being added to their environment, and other insane practices that completely threw morality out of the proverbial window.

Each beginning and ending of a year, another marked failure upon a calendar oversaturated by Joey Drew's overwhelming lack of satisfaction.

Even so, as much as it ached to think about lost time, 5 years wasn't much compared to what everyone else had to endure. 20 years of inky hell were nothing to shrug about, and Henry wasn't planning on just throwing everyone out into the streets to fend for themselves.

The house so close to the mountains, an inheritance he'd never really thought would come in handy, was the only reprive these shells of people had ever had in the span of two decades full of torment. His attention the only positive social interaction that they could recall with their broken minds.

Their recovery was not his responsibility, but he felt that he owed it to them regardless of the fact. Joey's descent was entirely on the man (his heinous crimes as well), but it didn't sit well with Henry to just not do anything to help fix some of the damages of the world.

And god if it didn't fill him with hope when he watched them slowly go into the road of recovery. People on the mend, shedding their old skins to become less the product of a cruel fiddler's ambitions, and more of their old selves, albeit newer in certain aspects.

The angels remained so, with little nubby horns and skin papery white. Tired eyes of sepia toned yellows, and scars from horrors he couldn't hope to understand. That he'd seen mere shadows of while briefly imprisoned himself.

Sammy fluctuated, stuck in a cycle of trying to find himself now that he felt like he was neither Samuel Lawrence Jr, nor the Prophet that worshipped the Ink Demon. Sometimes more close to human, other times coated in thick tarry skin that reflected oddly in the light. The closest he got to his old self was very close to the truth, but his once curly blond locks were now a messy tangle of raven curls that made him look so much paler than he should be. His teeth were sharp, his eyes far too yellow, and he refused to walk around barefoot even while indoors.

Tom and Buddy were still hound-like cartoon wolves, although now the feeling of fuzz was less a tactile illusion and more of a reality. Thick winter coats and soft summer furs. The shedding was absurd, but at least if they were spotted during the day they could pass off as very big dogs just frolicking in the woods. The same could not be said for the Searchers, Lost Ones and other cartoon characters that were slowly transitioning into less revolting forms. Jack had recently become a Lost One, consistent enough to wear clothing, but still having a hard time grasping speech.

Shawn too had passed onto the Lost One phase, but his tremendous size as the largest searcher with a mighty fine top hat, had followed him into his transition. He was over 9 feet tall and (albeit more wordy than most others of his kind) surprisingly bothered by his new height. Finding clothes that fit him would be a terrible pain.

Bertrum, Lacie and Norman were a difficult topic. Their mechanical parts had ensured their forms were stable and static. They couldn't become more human in appearence, and that in turn hindered their psychological recovery considerably. Still they were fighting that uphill battle, even if very slowly.

20 whole years of suffering, and still here they were, defying Joey Drew by getting to a point where they could begin to believe they were people again.

Henry Stein couldn't be prouder.

A lot of the crew had little to no remaining family. It was somewhat devastating to both him and Linda, as they poured their all into locating the studio employees's living relatives, only to find obituaries and tracks leading absolutely nowhere.

Buddy's case hurt the most, seeing the kid so heartbroken standing over his families's graves and his own empty one, had certainly put things into perspective. Illness had taken his mother just shy of a year of their escape... It wasn't fair.

Susie was much the same, crying thick tears as she left flowers on her poor mama's grave. She prayed her last years had been full of kindness despite her daughter having all but vanished into thin air.

Contacting the Pendles took a few days, and Tom refused to contact any of his own relatives, as he hadn't had that good of a relationship with his extended family to begin with. The only people that ever mattered were dead well before the machine had been built. Henry found that to be an overall theme for nearly everyone, really.

Joey Drew Studios had been built upon the hardships of social outcasts and dreamers. Joey's preferred prey had been those he deemed easily manipulated. People that wouldn't be missed too terribly.

The two largest exceptions being Sammy and Norman, and even then the both of them were not easy cases when it came to family reunions.

Henry had no idea where to look for Sammy's sister, as he couldn't find records of an Abigail Marie Lawrence after a certain amount of years (perhaps she'd married and taken on her husband's name?), and Norman... Well... The Projectionist didn't like strangers.

That alone made Norman exceedingly opposed to seeking anyone out. He was scared that he might have an "episode" and bring harm to whatever family member was out there missing him. A painful choice, as the want for home was clear in his gestures, his signed words, his dreams...

Henry would just have to focus on those that could be brought back home. For now at least.

The day Jack's face returned to him was the very same one where he saw his husband for the first time in two decades.

He'd been a complete jitterbug, fearful that his lovely hat and wedding ring wouldn't be enough for his beloved to recognize him. Lost Ones were people shaped but still very unnatural to look upon, even if Jack's form was considerably less emaciated and his words were slowly returning to him.

Nearly chickened out too, once an older gentleman was welcomed inside and briefly spoken to by Henry. Theo had come knowing Jack wasn't completely the same, but there was no revulsion, no regrets in getting his hopes up.

Just from body language alone, Theo had seen his husband in the round figure with sad glowing eyes and a battered bowler hat that still smelled mildly of sewage. Everyone had practically melted with delight as both held each other and cried happy tears at being reunited.

And then the ink of Jack's face began to melt off. Sepia skin and dark inky eyes, a round face framed by poofy locks. Peace of mind had let the biggest wounds heal. His voice was still not completely back, but both he and Theo had always held silent conversations. This wasn't an issue.

Saying goodbye was hard, but it gave everyone hope. If Jack who'd been something as mindless as a Searcher, could heal and move on, then nothing was stopping anyone else from living their best lives as well.

The will to live was further renewed.

Linda ends up being the one to ultimately find Sammy's younger sister. To their surprise, it brings a slice of the Polk family right to them as well.

Abigail Marie Lawrence was only such by blood. By name, she was now a Polk herself.

Married to Nelson, one of Norman's many nephews, and a childhood friend of hers.

Together they had a son. A tired looking young man with an uncanny resemblance to his uncle of all things. Mostly in the eyes. The hazel coloration that Sammy and Abby once shared had passed on to Lucian Polk.

Meeting them was... Awkward.

And very heated.

20 years of unexpected separation had brought up a lot of turmoils that neither knew how to deal with. In the end Linda and Henry had to separate the screaming pair, enough so that both hot-headed folk could cool down and then rush back to hug each other tightly and cry. Regretful and remorseful words spilling out with the tears and snot.

Overall, not something Henry ever wanted to get caught up in ever again. The Lawrence children were a little too intense for his taste.

When asked about Norman however... Well... Henry would have rather been stuck between a screaming match than be forced to explain about the Projectionist...

Avoidance brought him questioning looks, but a simple nod and a look that silenced any further questions. Nelson Polk was a gracious man that accepted when others needed time to themselves. He was only a brute by appearence after all.

He'd stated calmly that if Norman ever felt ready, he'd be welcomed with open arms regardless of whatever twisted form he may have taken on.

Layer that same day, Sammy told Henry that upon being told this, the Projectionist seemed happier in some way.

Recovery is hard when you feel disconnected from the world around you. For a long while, Henry feared that the gap between the years of their freedom, imprisonment, and subsequent rescue, would prove too much for everyone who'd become an inky abomination.

Was he ever so glad to be mistaken.

While there were many bumps on the proverbial road, and many a trial to face, everyone was thriving. Getting used to a world that was alien to them in some ways, but full of possibilities for them to explore.

Some were greatly limited by their conditions, but they too were managing.

Lacie had been steadily repaired and updated with her and Tom's combined efforts, and together they'd eventually figured out how to give Bertrum a better quality of life, through slowly converting his amusement ride body into something of a spider-like mobile unit. A little frightening at first, but progress towards constructing him an animatronic body perhaps? The world was their oyster. Their terrifying mechanical oyster.

Sammy's human form had eventually stabilized to where he only became his inky self when at his very limit, and Norman's mental faculties had return to a point where he finally felt safe reuniting with his family. They were initially quite horrified by the state of him, but didn't reject him. Merely fretted that he may be in pain.

His wife had long since remarried, but that wasn't much of an issue for him. Norman liked her new wife, she was everything the mother of his children deserved! And he'd thanked her as best he could for looking after his little ones when he couldn't.

Through a lot of home-schooling (bless Linda for being an excellent teacher), Buddy had finished the studies he'd abandoned to provide for his family. While he couldn't exactly get a job, it felt good to accomplish a goal he'd thought impossible.

He became a bit of an honorary Stein once Linda and the girls took a shine to him. It hurt that he couldn't live with them back in the city, but he liked the freedom the woodland location gave him. He was a wolf after all, even if at heart he was a young lad full of artistic ambition.

Susie and Allison were the easiest to rehabilitate in the end. They fought their demons and they came to terms with who they were. While Susie still had a few issues with her image and identity, she was doing formidably well in the writing industry.

Disguising her tale as a story of fiction as a means to vent, had sparked a talent she'd never thought she had.

Allison in turn took up the chore of making their home self-sustaining. Gardening, water filtration, the works. She processed her pain and grief through hard work and physical activities. Then when she was satisfied, she'd sit under the stars and reflect.

Many times she was joined by others who found the stars to be great listeners to their own plights. The company felt comfortable.

It felt good to trust again. Felt even better when a certain wolf sat besides her and admire the expanses of their freedom right beside her.

Yes, Henry Stein was truly proud of everyone's progress. He was glad he'd stuck around to witness it.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #post-studio au #long post

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the-dumbest-po3-au · 4 years

Text

DPO3 AU: Prologue 1 - Hollykit

read this on FFN / AO3

"And this is... dandelion?"

"No, Hollykit. That's milkweed."

"Oh." Hollykit stared at the milkweed, ears drooping. Why can't I ever get it right? she wondered, spearing the roots on her claw.

"Honey, no!" Leafpool batted her paws away. "Don't pierce the roots, the sap will leak out... oh, dear. We don't have very much in stock, I hope it's still salvageable..."

As Leafpool bent over the milkweed roots, Hollykit shrank back towards the door. Everyone knew that Leafpool had only taken Hollykit on because no other apprentices would even consider being a medicine cat. With her lack of talent, Hollykit would never have even made it past the door otherwise. At first, she'd taken it as a challenge; before the moon was over, Hollykit would prove to everyone that she deserved to the medicine cat apprentice! Except... it hadn't worked out that way.

I can't get anything right, Hollykit thought miserably. It's almost been an entire moon and I don't even have the basics memorized. I'm supposed to be the medicine cat! The entire clan is depending on me! If I can't even tell milkweed from dandelion, I've failed them all.

Suddenly, Hollykit couldn't stand to be in the den any longer. Ignoring Leafpool's cry of surprise, she turned tail and fled from the den. The dawn patrol was just coming in, so the camp was full of milling warriors. Hollykit gritted her teeth and sprinted through their midst.

Blossomfall yelped as Hollykit plowed past her, and Spiderleg oofed when she drove a sharp elbow into his gut. I'm sorry! Hollykit wailed internally. Even when I'm not trying, I still hurt my clanmates. There's no option left but to leave.

At last, she broke free of the crowd and scrambled out of camp. All the border patrols were in camp, and the hunting patrols were all on the lake side. There was nothing but trees between her and the Twolegplace. Feeling heartsick, she looked back at the camp one last time. Goodbye, mom. Goodbye, dad. Goodbye, Cinderkit and Leafpool. Thank you for being kind to me, I know I didn't deserve it. Maybe, some day, we'll meet again.

Turning her back on her beloved clan, Hollykit plunged into the wildnerness. Each step was a torment, drawing her further and further from her kin. But this was necessary; sacrifice was necessary sometimes, and if that sacrifice was her - for the good of the clan, she would offer herself up on the pyre. Even if that sacrifice tore her heart in two.

"Hollykit!"

Maybe they would remember her, maybe they wouldn't. Perhaps they would think of her at first - something to be whispered in clandestine gossip, spoken with fear and pity and a sad resignation. Later, her name would simply fade away. Only those closest to her would remember her, and hold her name tucked safely in their hearts, long after the rest of the clan had forgotten it.

"Hollykit?"

After they passed on, however, there would be no one left to remember her. One by one, they would fall, and Hollykit's memory would fade day by day until the last one was gone. Her story, untold, would trickle into the soft, welcoming soil and vanish forever, lost and forgotten in the annals of history. The story of the sacrifice - one so bravely offered up by a kit, for her vast love for the clan - would-

"Hollykit, you tiny stupid fleas-for-brains-rabbit, what in Thunderstar's sweet name do you think you're doing?"

Hollykit, cut off in the midst of her contemplations, looked up. Cinderkit slapped her across the face.

"Don't you go running off like that, you scared the mouse-dung out of us! Blossomfall said she almost broke her ankle tripping over you! What were you thinking?"

Hollykit touched her face gingerly. It hurt. "It was- it was necessary," she said, tearing up.

Cinderkit considered this. "How necessary? Like fate-of-the-clans necessary? Or all the juniper berries need to be the same color necessary?"

"Thunderclan's fate hangs in the balance," Hollykit told her earnestly. Of all the cats in Thunderclan, Cinderkit was the one she trusted to see it clearly. "I must go, Cinderkit. Give my regards to my parents-"

"Why, though?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you have to leave?"

"Oh." Hollykit tried to remember why, realized she couldn't, and re-walked through her entire path that day until she remembered the entire terrible episode with the milkweed. "Oh, Cinderkit! It was horrible!" she threw herself on her friend's shoulder, weeping bitterly. "I couldn't - Leafpool said - it was milkweed," she sobbed.

"Okay," said Cinderkit, rubbing circles on Hollykit's back with her paw. "It's alright, cry if you need to. I'm sure we'll get all this sorted out right away. Once you're done, tell me what happened?"

Hollykit shook her head wildly, sending drops of snot and tears everywhere. "I can't! It's unfixable! Cinderkit, I'm a- a- I'm a horrible medicine cat!"

"I'm sure you're much better than you think," Cinderkit said reasonably. "You fixed up my paw pretty well the other day. It looked so professional, and you're not even an apprentice yet!"

Hollykit glowed with pride, but the much greater issue was still there. "But Cinderkit, I couldn't tell the difference between milkweed and dandelion. Milkweed and dandelion! They look nothing alike! If I gave a cat milkweed instead of dandelion for a cough, I could kill them!"

She expected Cinderkit to be just as stunned by this horrifying revelation, but Cinderkit simply tilted her head. "But you won't," she pointed out. "Leafpool will be there to make sure you don't make any mistakes, and by the time you're doing it solo, you'll know all the herbs by heart!"

"But what if I don't?" Hollykit wailed.

"You will," Cinderkit said. She practically radiated confidence, as though there was only one truth in this world and it was that Hollykit was an utterly fantastic medicine cat.

Some of that confidence couldn't help but rub off on Hollykit. "Well, maybe," she sniffled, rubbing away the tears. "Thanks, Cinderkit. For being so patient with me."

Cinderkit nudged her comfortingly. "No problem. Hey, I think I'm getting better at this!"

"Yeah. You weren't very good the first four times."

"But the fifth time, I aced it."

"That was the time you accidentally implied Firestar would throw me out and I made it to the border before you caught up again."

"Yeah, well..." Cinderkit seemed discomfited for about half a second before bouncing back again. "I give the best peptalks of all time, and that's what counts!"

Hollykit sniffled again and nodded fervently.

"Now," Cinderkit added, clapping her on the back, "You need to get down to camp and apologize for making Leafpool worry. And to Spiderleg for elbowing him. But probably not to Blossomfall, 'cause she's a jerk."

"You're right." Hollykit stared at her paws. "But how can she ever forgive me?"

Cinderkit smiled. "Oh, don't worry. I think she will."

...

The medicine cat den was dark and cool after so long outdoors and it took Hollykit's eyes a moment to adjust. Towards the back of the den, Leafpool's hunched shoulders loomed large and daunting in the gloom.

Hollykit swallowed. "Leafpool?"

Leafpool startled and raised her head. "Oh, there you are! I couldn't find you anywhere."

A wave of guilt washed over her. Hollykit dropped her gaze to the ground, unable to meet the medicine cat's eyes. "I'm- I'm sorry, Leafpool," she said in a rush. "I know I'm no good as a medicine cat, and I can't tell the herbs apart, and every time I get something wrong I run away, and-"

A wall of fur enveloped her, cutting off her stammering apology with a warm embrace. Hollykit blinked, confused, before squeaking in surprise when Leafpool swiped a tongue across her ears.

"Don't be sorry, honey," Leafpool told her softly, drawing Hollykit closer. "You're not even a medicine cat apprentice yet- no one expects you to remember everything. And even when you become my apprentice, I'll be here for you, so you don't have to worry about getting it wrong the first time."

Hollykit went very still. "When I become...?"

The warm flank beside her went abruptly rigid. "Oh! Only if you still to, of course," Leafpool said quickly. "I wouldn't want to pressure you, or anything," she hesitated, but when Hollykit looked up, Leafpool's eyes were warm. "But for what it's worth, I'd be honored to mentor you."

Hollykit gasped. Even after all my failures... she still believes in me? "Yes!" she squeaked. "Oh my Starclan, yes! You're sure it's- I can really-?"

Leafpool purred. "I'll have to let Firestar know, but I'm sure he'll allow it. Everyone knows how good you are at healing, after all."

Hollykit almost corrected her - that morning alone posed a hefty contradiction - but Cinderkit's absolute confidence flashed through her mind, and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm gonna be the best medicine cat ever," she vowed instead.

A soft sigh gusted over the fluff of her ears, and above her, Leafpool smiled. If she'd looked up, she'd have seen Leafpool's mouth curl into a sad, bittersweet smile. "I know you will, Holly."

#warriors #warrior cats #wc #hollyleaf #cinderheart #leafpool #mod goose #writing #warrior cats fanfiction #wc fanfiction

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batb1tch · 5 years

Text

It’s my boy’s birthday so here are some Jason Todd head-canons 🎉

Probably 3rd to last (Alfred and Bruce) on the list of ‘understanding internet slang’ in the household. He died and just sort of fell behind on the times (including memes, pop culture references,etc..) I know he’s known for making snarky quips and sarcastic comments but I have no doubt his siblings would call him out on his outdated references. It’s likely it’d really piss him off too like, knowledge is really everything to this kid and here he is with a group of teenagers who are always on top of shit (Steph, Tim, Duke, even Dick) and he doesn’t know what they’re talking about the majority of the time. Can’t figure out how to use Twitter or Snapchat and he does not have the patience to learn. It’s a genuine sore spot for him regardless of the humorous side.

Has an inner city accent that will never leave him. Still pronounce “on” like “awn” and frequently drops his r’s (which Bruce acts like he hates but really he finds it endearing.) Drops his “ing”s like “nothing” is “nothin.”

Fantastic chef, learned from the best. Very good at making something out of nothing and making it last. Steph has been showing him how to can things like fruit and vegetables. She’s basically just enabled his doomsday prepping behavior.

Speaking of, if you think Bruce is bad with the backup plans (yes there is always a b c d — z) where do you think Jay got it from? Absolutely anal about planning and contingencies. Has a backup for his backups.

Has a small hoard of books hidden in an end-table back at one of his safe houses. His favorite classics (mostly gifted by Bruce.)

Loves the smell of paper.

Definitely could use them but refuses to get glasses. Babs teases him for his squinting when she gets the chance.

“Just join the club book-worm, promise it won’t ruin your badass reputation.”

Jason ~squinting~ “I’d rather die....again.”

Collects cool bookmarks.

Definitely names his guns.

Favorite meal is literally any Spanish/Mexican dish followed by a good chili dog & a coke.

Can pack away enough food to feed a horse and keep going, not even Bruce knows how he does it. Alfred acts like he’s a pain in the ass to cook for but loves feeding him anyways. “You’ll eat us out of house and home someday my dear boy, good god.”

While we’re at it, he is 100% taller and wider than Bruce. You might think it makes Bruce a bit uncomfortable when standing right next to him (I mean...it does lol) but he absolutely loves when Jay throws his weight around because the malnourished string-bean of a child that he met on the street could now powerlift a small automobile and he is so fucking proud and happy that he grew up to be big and healthy (that he managed to grow up AT ALL mind you) how could he be mad? He probably tears up at the dinner table after Jay fills his plate for 4th time that evening and still intends to stay for dessert because he loVES HIM.

His feet definitely hang off the end of his bed by like, the shins because his room only has a full compared to everyone else’s king/queen. It never got upgraded when he hit puberty (because he was dead) and then he wouldn’t let anyone change it once he came back because that’s his bed “don’t fucking touch it I still fit just fine.” (Even though he’s like 22 and there’s a dip in the mattress that could put the Grand Canyon to shame.)

Still has a picture of Catherine hidden away. Visits her grave on the anniversary and always brings her favorite flowers (Lillie’s.)

His hands get cold really easily and they’re always dry/calloused.

Snores. Loudly.

The Lazarus pit did NoT heal his autopsy scar that shit is there for life and it is big and it is ugly. He doesn’t like taking his shirt off because of it and the look on Bruce’s face when he sees it could strip wallpaper.

Stopped dying the lock of white hair on his head.

Has spring allergies that turn him into a giant snotting watery eyed whiny baby.

He’s claustrophobic and not a fan of the dark. It’s why his helmet has night vision.

(While we’re at it, that helmet has to be the equivalent of like, iron mans on the inside. Definitely has built in comms, scopes, analysis systems, navigation, etc etc. the WORKS. whICH he designed and created himself because he’s brilliant.) (Actually Roy might have helped a little but don’t tell him that.)

Has a work-in-progress bike in the cave that hasn’t been finished for over 2 years and it will never be finished because he uses it as an excuse to hangout and spend time with Bruce. Drives Steph crazy to see it sit there but she gets it.

During his first Thanksgiving with Bruce and Alfred he cried for 15 minutes before dinner (which he’s still embarrassed about to this day) and then ate until he literally puked. He hasnt missed many Thanksgivings since he died.

TERRIBLE at 1st-person-shooters and super pissed about it.

“That’s not even realistic, an HK-416 doesn’t even have a 200 round drum. It’s bonkers! It’s madness Tim!”

“Shut the fuck up Jason you haven’t even been facing the right way since we started.”

(He’ll stick to Space Invaders and Mario fuck you very much.)

Really good at piano. Bruce asked him to start playing seriously when he moved in because “learning a musical instrument teaches self -discipline and versatility” but really it’s because one day during his Robin years Jay sat down and started plinking on the keys to a song he learned at the public youth-center on the “old shitty out of tune” wood one they had and it just happened to be a song Martha used to play Bruce all the time. He wanted to hear it fill the halls again.

Gets in a screaming match with Bruce nowadays and instead of lighting up one of Penguin’s underground casinos (like he might of used to 👀) he’ll disappear for a month to cool down. You can always tell when he gets over it though because he sends the family a postcard from wherever he is in the world. (Alfred puts them all on the fridge.)

Pit symptoms used to (and occasionally still do) include horrific night terrors, black-out rage, and brief moments of hallucinations or flashbacks. He had to relive the period of time shortly after he was pulled out through graphic and warped recollections (typically after not getting enough sleep or engaging in physical altercations.) He really only started to work through this after Ducra had suggested keeping a log and writing down everything he could remember. After a time he was able to piece together the things he had experienced or done (mostly to others) and as awful and horrible as knowing may have been, he could at least start to move on.

The more time he spent with Damian after he came back the more he could remember as well. He will occasionally speak to him in Arabic & not even realize he’s doing it (which scares the pants of Dames, himself, and Bruce.)

He does feel closer to the little gremlin because of it though. Talia likely had him as a baby with her the majority of the time after he was born and Jay was recovering/training, so he spent a substantial amount of time with both of them.

Bruce bought him a kindle for Christmas one of the first years he was back and he was (and still is but don’t tell the old man that) elated.

Occasionally mumbles in his sleep, usually in a variety of languages.

He does smoke, mostly only when he gets stressed out (because everyone reams him for it otherwise.) You’d think it’s a rebellious street kid thing but it’s actually because Catherine used to smoke the same brand and the smell reminds him of her.

His shoe size is a 13.

The time shortly after he crawled out of his own grave he could see ghosts (and I’m talking straight up dead people.) He can’t recall much of this or the time spent actually deceased (even after his dunk in the pit) but even now he’ll see things move out of the corner of his eye or get cold chills or feel like he’s being watched. When he hasn’t slept for like, 4 days and is bordering on manic depressive and harmful behavior, he starts seeing them again. Constantine prob finds him real interesting.

My guess is that he did see Catherine when he died but overall ended up in some sort of purgatory-like state which he can’t recall.

When he blushes it’s the hollows of his cheeks, back of the ears and neck and all the way down the front of his chest. The autopsy scar shows up white against it.

Has those hands that no matter how many times he washes them the oil/gun cleaner doesn’t come out of the cracks. Looks like a mechanic.

Tends to wear thicker work/type clothing like carhart fireproof pants and boots. Obviously his jacket too.

Not a fan of cold weather at all. His nose and cheek get really red and he shivers (as unmanly as that is)

OCD. His apartments are spotless, weapons and ammunition categorized and logged, etc.

Had asthma as a child and sort of grew out of it but sometimes his endurance suffers as an adult because of it.

Has this particular phone case 💀

#jason todd #jason peter todd #dc #batfam #red hood

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iloveyouthree-thousand · 5 years

Text

and we might not be able to save everyone (but I’ll be damned if I can’t save you)

I wrote this a while back, but I never posted it on here, so I cleaned it up a little and decided to put it up because, god help me, I can’t think of anything new to write.

Warning: this fic contains mentions of suicide. Please stay safe.

/ / /

"Kid, I'm going to need you to listen to me—just this once—and I promise I'll let you go to bed at whatever time you want for the rest of your long, long life," Tony starts, his attempt at being calm becoming less and less convincing with every passing second, "but I need you to step away from that ledge."

"I just wanted to help, Mr. Stark. I just—I didn't want anybody to get hurt," Peter stammers, a dark blue jacket and jeans fluttering in the wind while his face—his horribly pallid face—was left exposed to the night air.

The kid's innocence had worn off steadily throughout the past few years. Oh, he still had a heart of gold and manners fit for the Queen of England herself, and you would be hard-pressed to find someone who still didn't see eighteen-year-old Peter Parker as the living embodiment of an actual fucking ray of sunshine. This kid, despite losing nearly everything he ever loved, never ceased to be the count-your-blessings-glass-half-full kind of person. It was remarkable.

Behind that happy-go-lucky exterior, though, Tony knew he hid a world of hurt.

He knew that several times a month Peter retreated to a soundproof room in the basement of the Compound and buried himself in a pillow, only to return hours later with blood in his ears and looking like he had seen a ghost. He knew that sometimes Peter went home and held his eyes shut until the sounds of Ben's cries were drowned out by sleep. He knew that, tucked into the back of his closet, was the small black suit and the shoes he had worn to his parents' funeral, still caked with the same dirt that he watched the groundskeepers cover his parents' graves with, long after everyone else had left.

Tony also knew a thing or two about emotional baggage—about carrying around the loss of people you love well after everyone else has moved on. He also knew that Peter would grin and bear it for as long as he lived, hiding behind the Spider-Man mask by night and behind his own bubbly façade during the day.

Peter took the worst things that life could throw at him and turned them into strength and resilience and unrestrained compassion, and it was precisely those character traits that had Spider-Man parading around a children's hospital that morning.

The visit was part of a charity event to raise money for and put smiles on the faces of terminally ill children, and Peter had been looking forward to the visit for weeks with an excitement that was palpable. Tony had gone as himself, leaving the Iron Man suit at home while still giving the kid some much-needed moral support. He stood in the background, not bothering to hide his pride as Peter displayed his webbing abilities for the children, a grin no doubt spread across his face under the mask.

And then everything had gone wrong.

A maniac had heard about the hospital visit. An explosion destroyed an entire wing of a hospital. Sixteen people were dead in a little less than a second, before Peter or Tony could even blink. Eleven of them were children. There was nothing Spider-Man could do but watch in horror.

The Daily Bugle headline for the evening had read 'Spider-Man: Don't our children deserve better?'

Tony would’ve purchased every single copy, would’ve strung the ratty journalist up by his toes if it meant that Peter would never see the stupid headline, but the damage was done.

And now his kid was standing on a roof, ready to jump into the wind like he’d done so many times before, but there were no webs to catch him this time.

"Peter, it's not your fault. Those people—those kids, there was nothing we could do."

Tony was in his suit, poised to catch the boy if the unthinkable were to happen. They were sixteen stories up, one for each of the victims that Peter hadn't been able to save. Rhodey was also suited up, on call to swoop in just in case. No one was going to be scraping Peter Parker off of the sidewalk tonight.

Peter's hands were trembling at his sides, no, his whole body was trembling. His eyes were wide-open, locked onto the streets below, and he was crying so hard he was hiccuping, snot dripping down his nose and tears pooling in his eyes. He looked like a shadow out there—a broken, fleeting wisp of the boy Tony knew and loved.

Peter lacked the physical energy to fight anymore. At some point, even Atlas buckles under the weight of the world. Everyone has their breaking point. And while Tony was certain Peter's name wouldn't be written in the obituaries tomorrow—he wouldn't let that happen—he was terrified that something inside of Peter had finally given in. It didn't matter if Tony or Rhodes snatched him out of the air or not, if Peter jumped, a part of him had already died.

"Pete, look at me, please." His impossibly wide eyes were still vacant and frozen, but they managed to train on Tony.

"I've been here, at the end of my rope, when it was too much. I know what it feels like, that helplessness, that absence of control. Because you're a superhero, right," he chokes, "a card-carrying member of the 'earth's mightiest heroes' club, but they don't tell you when you sign up how much it absolutely sucks.”

And it does, it sucks and it’s not fair, because for every person you save there are dozen more that you lose, innocent people that die without a hero to fight for them.

“They don't sit you down and explain that sometimes the bad guys win, and that most of the time, even when they don't, the good guys lose. We lose and we lose and we lose over and over again."

"Death doesn't discriminate, Pete," the tears are streaming down his face now, "it takes and takes and takes and you know what the worst part is? We get knocked on our ass again and again, but we have to keep fighting. We have to keep living and carrying the weight of the ones that aren’t so lucky and it’s hard. I know that sometimes it feels easier to just break the cycle, to just jump and let it all be over with. Trust me, I know. But heroes--they have to get back up, even when it feels like there’s nothing left to fight for, even if it sucks and even if it’s not fair, because that’s what heroes do.”

Peter's eyes shift nervously to the bustling street hundreds of feet below him.

"Yea, yea," he whispers, "with great power comes great responsibility."

"Yea, kid,” Tony says softly, his words carrying in the wind, “and I wish more than anything that you didn't have to bear that responsibility, that you could just be a normal kid worrying about normal things. But I know that some higher being out there gave you these powers knowing that you could handle them—that you could use them to change the world. And as much as I want to kick that someone's ass for robbing you of your childhood and making this your life," he gestures to the trembling child, "we need you Peter."

"You've never had a selfish bone in that entire body of yours, it's infuriating, really," he chuckles drily, "and I know you didn't suddenly grow one tonight. Peter, think about May. You’re her whole world. And Ned, and MJ; Peter those kids need you. Queens needs its favorite superhero. And I--I have always been selfish, so I’m not afraid to admit that I need you too," his voice is so thin now, but he desperately tries to keep his cool composure as Peter turns back to stare out into the night sky, tears precariously close to falling, his chest heaving in a way that makes Tony's heart skip a beat.

"We can't always save everyone, but I'll be damned if I can’t save you. We can work through this together, in time, but first I need you come here. Please, Pete,” he says, and his voice is breaking, he’s breaking, “please, just come here."

It takes him a minute of staring at Tony and then the ground below, but he takes a step back and then two and three and in less than a moment he's in Tony's arms, tears leaving hot trails down his face. Tony stumbles out of the suit, taking the kid to ground with him, clutching him like he might disappear at any second.

"This world doesn't deserve you kid. I don't deserve you."

"Mr. Stark, I-I'm s-s-sorry," he sobs, gripping the man's shoulders and bleeding tears into the fabric of his expensive suit.

"Nope, no apologies, not tonight kid."

Tony thinks back to one gruesome night, back when he was still a kid—just around Peter's age. Howard Stark had come in and seen the pills strewn everywhere, his son lying in a daze, eyes glossed over, clinging to life. He remembered the screaming, Tony, Tony! How could you do this—how—how could you do this to us? And then it was a mess of hospital lights and a tube down his throat and he had pulled through, but Howard barely even looked at him for the next couple of weeks, and it just made him curse those damn pills for not taking him soon enough. He knew his father cared, that he was probably more scared that night than he'd ever admit, but that feeling of utter loneliness in the darkest moment of his life is something that Tony never wants Peter to feel.

So he just holds Peter, reaching a hand up to brush his hair back before resting his chin on the top of his head. His fingers toy with the navy material of Peter's sweater, needing to just feel him, as he repeats, whispering into his hair, "not tonight kid."

#irondad #tony stark #peter parker

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takivvatanga · 4 years

Text

what remains.

Brown paper bag. PATIENT PROPERTY. The top folded over one, two, three times, stuck down with a printed label.

VAR ANAHID-REID, Assire. Date of Birth, NHI number, Address.

Patient Deceased. NOK to collect written underneath in black pen.

These are the contents. This is what remains:

A crumpled feather, blackish brown. Damp.

8 hours remain.

“Mum, look!” Stella’s voice is insistent, serious. She’s fallen behind, easily distracted by her surroundings – she is her mother’s daughter. Assire checks her watch, turns around towards her daughter, her expression serious. Stella is crouched on the wet pavement, the hood of her coat pulled up over her head, dark curls spilling out in a stark contrast against the white faux fur lining. Sometimes Stella looks like Assire, other times she looks just like Jonathan. There’s hints of other people there, too. But most of the time, Stella just looks like Stella, and Assire loves her so fiercely that it hurts.

You’re the most impossible task I’ve ever tackled. You are the greatest thing I’ve ever done.

“What are you doing, Stella? We’re going to miss the train if you keep mucking around. Do you want to go to Emma’s house or not?!”

“Look what I found, Mum!” Stella raises a gloved hand, her breath rising in small white clouds. Assire responds with a stern look, an impatient gesture. Stella huffs a little but obeys, running towards her mother, her boots going splish splish splish on the wet ground.

“It’s for you, Mum. It’s from a bird.” She presents the feather with something bordering on reverence, and Assire accepts it without thinking, slides it through the top buttonhole of her coat.

“Why, thank you very much. I shall wear it with pride.” Stella beams at her, and Assire takes her daughter’s hand in hers.

“You have to wear it for the rest of your LIFE, Mum.”

“I will, honey. For the rest of my life.”

A raffle ticket. Number 47. Carefully folded in half.

7 hours remain.

Barbara has a round face and kind eyes. Her blonde hair is cut short and her earrings glitter in the late afternoon light. Her house is colourful and noisy, in a perpetual state of activity. Herbs grow on the windowsill of her kitchen. Dishes are piled in the sink. Children’s drawings cover the refrigerator door.

“What do you say to Barb, Stella?” Assire’s hands rest on her daughter’s shoulders.

“Where’s Emma?” Stella bursts out, already kicking off her boots.

Assire rolls her eyes, her lips forming a silent apology. Barbara chuckles, turns on the tap, hot water rushes into the sink.

“It’s all good, it’s all good. No worries, eh? EMMA! Come down, Stella’s here!” The sound of light steps racing down wooden stairs. A blonde head poking through the kitchen door.

“Hi Stella! Hi Stella’s Mum!” Stella’s best friend in the whole world forever and ever is small for her age and full of energy, a noisy, snot-nosed little kid with a big heart and an even bigger mouth. Assire is glad that her daughter has friends. She remembers what it felt like to be a lonely child.

“Stella’s Mum, do you want to buy a raffle ticket? I’m doing a fundraiser. So I can go to camp over the holidays.”

“Hello, Em”, she replies, letting go of her daughter’s shoulders. “Sure, I’ll buy a ticket. Today might just be my lucky day. Give me… number 47.” Emma squeals with excitement, produces a greasy booklet of tickets from the pocket of her jeans, flicks through, tears one out, passes it to Assire who hands over a crisp ten dollar bill in exchange.

“I don’t have change.”

“It’s fine, Emma.”

“Whaaaaa… THANK YOU! Stella your mum is cool.”

“You girls be good, okay? No staying up watching rubbish all night and Stella – you promise me to listen to Barb, please. Seriously, if I find out you made a nuisance of yourself, you know what that means, right? No more sleepovers.”

Stella looks up at her mother, nods quietly. “What time are you coming back?”

“In the morning, honey. Dad and I are going to pick you up in the morning.”

“In the car?”

“Yeah. In the car.”

“Bye, Mum.” Stella turns, opens her arms. Assire hugs her daughter goodbye. Neither of them know that this will be the last time.

A mobile phone. Shattered screen. A smear of dried blood.

One hour remains.

sms: Jonathan

[txt] I’m just about finished thank goodness. You wouldn’t believe what these absolute incompetents did to their server I am SPEECHLESS

[txt] but that being said I’m really enjoying being in this building all by myself. It’s like being a ghost. The benevolent spirit of emergency server repair. It’s so lovely and quiet and there’s people’s things just sitting around and I can’t stop wondering who the people are that those things belong to

[txt] you still on track to pick me up? I’m so very much looking forward to having some time with just US. And I feel so bad for feeling like this because you know how much I love stella but sometimes I just miss when it was just you and me

[txt] can we go for a drive over the bridge? I love the bridge at night

[txt] really? I was so looking forward to us having some time to ourselves. Nvm you do what you have to do hopefully your shift improves. I’ll catch the train and I’ll see you at home I suppose. I might text barb and see if stella can stay at hers until after lunch we can sleep in and just BE at least

[txt] yes I’m sure! It’s fine seriously! I can look after myself, remember :)

[txt] I love you too. Very very much.

[txt] see you soon x

A train ticket. Single fare. Western Line.

Forty-five minutes remain.

There’s no sense of impending doom. No oppressive atmosphere. No feeling that this is it, this is the end. Assire’s shoes echo on the subway stairs. She’s going to have to wait for a little while until her train arrives, but she doesn’t mind. Assire has always, in some strange way that she can’t quite explain, enjoyed the stations at night. Sometimes, they feel like sacred spaces, separate from the world above, existing in their own time, according to their own rules. She is disappointed when she finds that the platform is not completely deserted. A young woman wearing headphones sits with her phone in her hand, popping bubblegum against the back of her teeth.

An elderly couple, long distance travellers, judging by their suitcases, share a newspaper. Assire watches them with curiosity, wonders what it will be like to grow old, and all of a sudden there’s a dreadful thought screeching through her mind that she cannot silence.

What will I do, when I am old and he dies before me?

There is not a doubt in her mind that it is Jonathan who will die first. Everyone knows that women live longer, and his father died young, who knows what the burden of his genetic legacy will be. The thought grabs hold, cold and cruel and terrible, crushing her heart and constricting her throat. She scrambles for her phone, her fingers slick with sweat, it slips out of her hand, falls to the ground with an ominous thud. The screen shatters.

Shit.

The girl with the headphones looks up, grins, her expression pure schadenfreude.

Assire scoops up her phone, keeps walking. The lights at the other end of the platform flicker erratically, almost as if in warning. Assire does not recognise it, or else she does not heed it.

“Give me your wallet.”

“Excuse me?”

She never even saw him approach. He’s very young, almost still a kid, with big hungry eyes and a sad excuse for a beard dappling his chin. His hood is pulled right up over his head, his jeans are dirty, and he’s very thin. There’s an eruption of infected sores over his sunken cheeks, every part of his body seems to be in motion.

“You fucking heard me, bitch! Give me your fucking wallet!”

She should be scared. By all means, she should be terrified. But all she can see is a little boy, a desperate little boy. She has faced far greater fears than this. She shakes her head. She will not be intimidated.

“No.”

“You fucking bitch!” There are tears in his eyes. There’s a knife in his hand. There’s something sharp piercing her side, again and again and again and again. There’s something hot and red and viscous spilling out of her, dripping down her leg, blooming on her coat. There’s nausea, and dizziness, and a sound like a train approaching. There’s darkness closing in, clouding her vision. There’s the dirty subway platform floor, rising up to meet her. There’s a light. It’s beautiful.

A set of torn and bloodstained clothes.

Sixty seconds remain.

She recognises him. Despite the fact that his face is obscured by a surgical mask, despite the fact that everything is all messed up, despite the fact that she cannot focus her eyes. She would recognise him anywhere. She would know him in death, at the end of the world.

She is looking down on him, watching him work, his movements quick, frantic. His hands are shaking. She’s pretty sure that when a surgeon’s hands are shaking, the prognosis is unfavourable. Assire feels sorry for the person on the table, the person who is about to die. She doesn’t like this place. She remembers asking him what it is like, in theatre, remembers listening to him describe it, the way everything is deliberate, precise, orderly. This is not orderly at all. Discarded equipment litters the floor, there’s drips and machines and sharp metallic things everywhere. There’s a shoe on the ground, lying in a pool of blood. She has a pair exactly like that. They are her favourite shoes.

She can hear voices, but the words don’t make any sense. They don’t need to. This is nothing good. Assire knows nothing about medicine, but there’s blood everywhere, seeping out from underneath the sterile sheet covering the body person on the table, seeping, seeping, seeping. A river of blood that pours and pours and will not, can not stop. Someone pulls off the sheet, the sound of the machines rises to a crescendo. The person on the table is a woman. She looks familiar. Assire wants to get closer, wants to see her face properly. This is someone she knows!

“Excuse me. I need to look. Please. Let me look.” No one takes notice of her request. No one takes notice of her, full stop. Aren’t they surprised that she’s here, right in the middle of it all?

“Assire! No! Don’t you dare!”

He has noticed. He has noticed her, and he’s calling her name, and he is angry, so angry, and by all means he should be, she has no business hanging around in operating theatres!

“I’m sorry! Jonathan, I’m sorry. I just need to see, I’ll explain later. When you finish. When we’re home. I can explain. I don’t know how I got here but I can explain.”

He looks up, but he doesn’t see her. She knows he doesn’t. There are tears in his eyes and something else, a terrible, terrible grief and all she wants to do is to reach out and comfort him, to let him know that everything will be alright, she’s here

I’m here, I’m here!

and she’s both here, suspended above and there, on the table, in a pool of her own blood, not making a sound not moving not breathing not living it’s time to go but she doesn’t want to, she wants to stay!

I want to stay!

and it hurts, it hurts, oh God it hurts so bad until it doesn’t

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

It’s alright

Everything will be alright.

and darkness starts to close in on her but she’s not afraid of the dark this time, because there’s a light at the very edge of it and it keeps growing and pulling her towards it

The light is so beautiful.

and she turns around for what she knows will be the last time and she knows that this time he can hear her

I’ll wait for you. I’ll always wait for you. I love you. I’m sorry.

Goodbye.

@throatkissed why am I like this

#vignette: assire #verse: modern #tw death #tw stabbing #sorry not sorry at the dash #but legit i was just driving today #and all of a sudden i knew how her story ends in modern verse #IT'S OK THERE'S AN AU WHERE SHE SURVIVES OK

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todorokiaimee · 5 years

Text

Blues In The Night 19. Stormy Weather

Previous Chapter | Chapter Song

Walking into his hero agency, Shoto leisurely strolled through the halls on the way to his office. Making a pit stop to the break room, he hummed Aimee’s favorite jazz standard to himself as he poured himself a cup of coffee. One sugar and just a dash of cream. Sauntering back out into the hallway, he met one of his loyal sidekicks, giving him a quick nod hello, “Good Morning.”

“Todoroki!” The man said in shock, almost dropping his files. “What are you doing here?”

“Work, same as you,” Shoto said with a quirked brow as he took a sip of his coffee. “Is my father in yet?”

“That’s the thing,” his sidekick paused, not wanting to be the one to break the news to him. “There’s been another kidnapping. Yoyogi Middle School. Endeavor’s on his way now, I thought he called you.”

All the color drained from Shoto’s face, his eyes wide as he stood frozen in his spot. It couldn’t be. He must have heard him wrong. There must be some mistake. “I’m sorry, where?”

“Yoyogi Middle Sch--”

Before he could finish, Shoto dropped his coffee on the floor before turning to sprint out of the building at full speed. He pushed bystanders out of the way without care until he reached his Tesla. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he peeled out into the street like a bat out of hell headed back to Aimee’s school. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, all the while repeatedly calling Aimee’s cell phone, only for it to go straight to voicemail. Shit, shit, shit. Please, Aimee. Pick up.

When he pulled into the school parking lot, he found several police cars out front as well as a few of his agency’s sidekicks. His father, however, was nowhere in sight. Maybe that’s good news. Maybe she’s okay. His car screeched to a halt before he jumped out, charging for the door. “Aimee? Where’s Miss Faurie?” He asked the receptionist at the front desk in a frenzy. When the woman took too long answer, he pushed forward and up the stairs to Aimee’s classroom, Room 204.

“Aimee?!” Shoto shouted, slamming open the door as he looked around the room distraught. Instead of his love, he only saw more policemen, her students, and a familiar face with trademark green hair.

“Todoroki!” Deku said in surprise, pocketing his notebook. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Where’s Aimee? Tell me where she is.” Shoto’s voice was icy and low, the panic in his eyes palpable.

Deku let out a deep sigh before gently taking his friend’s arm, “Let’s talk outside.”

“ANSWER ME GODDAMNIT!”

The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at Shoto before turning their eyes to look anywhere but at him. Everyone knew the answer, but none had the heart or nerve to say it. Just then, Endeavor entered the room, stopping in front of his youngest son to place a hand on his shoulder, a solemn look on his face, “I’m sorry, son. She’s gone. We think it’s Lafayette Dubois.”

“No. You’re lying!” Shoto protested, hot tears pricking at his eyes as he slapped his father’s hand away. “She can’t be! I just dropped her off an hour ago!”

“I’m sorry, Todoroki but it’s true,” Deku said in a soft voice.

“But it’s broad daylight! She would have fought him. I taught her…” Shoto’s voice trailed off as he looked around the room for anyone to agree with him. Unfortunately, no one could meet his eyes. His heart fell into his stomach as the reality of the situation set in. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he looked to the first responders on the scene. His eyes were cold as he spoke with urgency. “Do we have anything to go on? What direction did he leave? Anything.”

The policeman shook his head with a sigh, “Unfortunately, we don’t know much at this time.”

Shoto’s lips pressed into a thin line as he approached the officer, a frigid cold filling the air around them, “Then why the fuck are you here?”

“Shoto.” Enji interjected, pulling his son away from the officer by the arm.

Shoto violently shoved his father away from him before turning back toward the door. He paused in the doorway for a moment until he let out a heartbreaking yell from deep inside him before punching the classroom wall, leaving a hole in his wake.

“Hey!” Endeavor took his son by the shoulders, turning him around to face him. Shoto fought against him but he was no match for his father’s brawn as he held him back against the classroom wall. “I know you’re hurt and scared. Believe it or not, I am too. But you have to remember who you are. You are still a hero and you still have eyes on you.” Enji’s blue eyes flickered over to the crowd of young students in the corner of the room watching them both carefully. Aimee’s students, who she affectionately called her kids.

Shoto looked at the faces of some of Aimee’s students. Most of them held fear, a few sorrow, and some even regret. They were also victims and he needed to be a hero. Shoto let out a deep sigh through his nose before reluctantly nodding his head, signaling to his father that he had calmed down.

As Enji let go of his son, Deku spoke up, a look of sincerity in his bright green eyes. “Todoroki I know you don’t want to hear it, but you should go home. You’re no help to anyone in this condition. You can’t help Aimee unless you have a cool head.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Todoroki!” The heroes turned around to find one of Aimee’s students, the young blonde boy stepping in front of them with his head bowed deeply. “I tried to protect Miss Faurie since I didn’t think she had a quirk, but she said no. That she had to go to protect us. I’m sorry! I should have been more brave!” he cried, wiping away his snot and tears with the back of his hands.

Shoto’s face instantly softened, haven remembered the boy from his visit to Aimee’s classroom to speak to the class. He silently walked up to the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder as he lifted his head to meet the hero’s gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Shoto whispered with a sigh. “Miss Faurie would never let any of you be in danger. That’s just who she is.” His eyebrows knitted together as he clenched his fist by his side. “But I’m going to bring her back.”

Without another word, Shoto stomped out of the room. A quiet determination radiated off him as he exited the school building, police and now news crews instinctively moving far out of his way. It wasn’t until Shoto reached his car that he noticed his green-haired friend had followed him out. Once inside his tesla, he lowered the window, Deku leaning over to peer at his friend with a look of concern, “Straight home, okay? I’ll keep you updated.” Shoto only grunted in response, his eyes still straight ahead. “Hey,” Midoriya tapped the duel quirked hero’s arm, effectively gaining his attention. “We’ll find her.”

“I know.” As Midoryia stepped back from the vehicle, Shoto peeled out of the parking lot, headed back home.

After driving back to his apartment building, Shoto entered the lobby, his head hung low. Looking up from his book, his doorman, Hinata, gave him a bright smile, “Morning, Mr. Todoroki. No Miss Faurie today?” Shoto turned to him with a look that could kill, his heterochromatic eyes, as cold as ice. All of the color drained out of Hinata’s face as he quickly covered it with a book, suddenly needing some kind of barrier between him and the hero, “I’m sorry… Forget I said anything,” he whispered as Shoto entered his private elevator.

As the elevator doors closed on Todoroki and lifted him up to his penthouse apartment, he let out a shaky breath, balling his fists. Why did he have to talk? His brow furrowed as he walked out of the elevator to his door. His hands shaking, he struggled to get the key into the lock, cursing under his breath.

Once inside, Shoto looked around his apartment. Nothing was out of place as per usual, but now it somehow felt… baren. Empty. It was quiet. A deafening silence that began to eat at him immediately. Every fiber of his being longed to hear Aimee’s soft voice. Her melodic singing. Her infectious laugh. Only the soft hum of the heater could be heard throughout the spacious apartment.

His bottom lip began to quiver as bitter tears began to pool in his eyes, the inevitable horrible truth screaming in his mind. She’s gone. Unable to hold himself together any longer, Shoto dropped to his knees, a wail escaping his throat as tears began to flow down his cheeks. She’s gone. Sobs wracked through his body as he pressed forehead to his plush carpeting, his mouth agape, gasping for air between cries. She’s gone. Completely letting go, Shoto screamed, his quirk exploding in anguish. Fire and Ice raged through his living room, his curtains catching fire and his couch covered in ice and frost. The hero continued to weep uncontrollably until he eventually fell asleep there on the floor.

Several hours later, Shoto was brought out of his slumber by the ringing of his cellphone. Fumbling through his pockets he pulled his phone out before pressing it through his ear, his heart beginning to race, “Hello? Did you find her?”

It was Hinata on the other line, his nervous voice came out in almost a whisper, “Um... Mr. Todoroki? Your mother is here to see you.”

Shoto quirked a surprised brow, as he quickly wiped his face, “Send her up.”

Todoroki hung up the phone and rose to his feet, adjusting his clothes before rushing out his apartment. He walked out just in time to see the elevator doors open, his quiet and reserved mother stepping out. “Mother…” He breathed. “W-what are you doing here? Did you get a day pass from the hospital?”

Rei took in the sight of her youngest son. He looked like an absolute wreck. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair and clothes disheveled. She sighed as she placed her hands on his shoulders, “I saw what happened on the news so I left and came straight here. They tried to stop me, but I told them that my son needed me.”

Reaching up, Rei cupped Shoto’s face, Shoto once again beginning to crumble. She walked him back into the apartment and set him down on the couch, noting the damage from his quirk but choosing not to say anything. Shoto cried into his mother’s shoulder as she held him close, gently running her fingers through his peppermint locks, cradling her baby boy in her arms once again.

After a few minutes, Rei urged her son to take a shower and freshen up while she made some dinner. Shoto reluctantly agreed. Once out of the shower and in his sweats, he walked into his kitchen to find his mother plating a bowl of ramen on the table for him. “Come eat, Shoto. This should help warm your belly and soul.”

Shoto paused for a moment, his mother’s statement reminded him of Aimee. That was exactly how she felt about gumbo. He sighed, taking a seat, staring at the bowl in front of him. Rei watched him push his food around for a few minutes before resting her hand on his. “You have to eat something, son. You need to keep your strength up. Your father isn’t going to rest until he finds her, and when that comes, they’ll both need you at your best.”

The hero nodded and slowly began to eat, earning a soft smile from Rei. Once she could see that he was eating in earnest, Rei left the room to walk into his living room. She sighed as she looked over the damage. Her boy must really be hurting. Quietly she got a broom and began to sweep up the soot and ash. As she reached the other end of the room, she noticed a scratching post and cat bed in the corner, a white brow quirking in surprise. “Shoto, did you get a cat?”

A cat? Shoto thought, puzzled as he slurped his noodles. Suddenly the realization dawned on him as he hastily stood from his seat. Mochi! Quickly, he rushed out of the kitchen, pulling his shoes on his feet by the apartment door. “I’ll be right back mother!” He grabbed his keys and left the apartment in a flash.

After a short drive, Shoto pulled up to Aimee’s apartment building, parking next to the curb. A few police cars were still on-site as he exited his tesla, his mouth turning into a frown. After climbing up the stairs, he walked up to her door to find it wide open, police and sidekicks from his agency coming in and out. He walked inside without a word, looking around frantically.

“Todoroki!” Shoto turned to the voice of one of his sidekicks, a shocked look on the man’s face. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

“Where’s Mochi?” Shoto asked, still looking around the room.

“Mochi? Have you lost it?” The sidekick chuckled nervously. “There’s no sweets here.”

“No the cat! Her cat!”

“We haven’t seen any cat...” The sidekick answered softly, warry of Shoto’s reaction.

“He’s probably hiding.”

Shoto walked into her kitchen, opening and closing her cabinets until he found what he was looking for, Mochi’s cat treats. With the treats in hand, next he went into her storage closet, pulling out Aimee’s cat carrier and placing it on the kitchen table. Shaking the bag of treats, Shoto went from room to room calling for the fat cat. “Here kitty kitty kitty,” he semi sang, looking under every piece of furniture. Shoto made his way into her bedroom, ignoring the funny looks of the police officers collecting evidence. “Here kitty kitty kitty.”

Finally, his calls were answered with a soft meow, coming from under her bed. Shoto knelt down to get a better look and saw Mochi curled up and afraid. “There you are,” Shoto smiled softly at the cat as he took out a treat, holding it out to him. “Come on. It’s okay.” Slowly the cat made his way out from under the bed to eat the treat. Shoto sighed in relief before gently picking him up, the other officers in the room amazed at the size of him. Mochi cried in his arms as he looked around the room, his feline body tensing. “Shh, it’s okay Mochi. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

As Shoto rose to his feet, he carried Mochi toward the door but something caught his eye. Turning around he saw Aimee’s purple spirit jersey from their trip to Disneyland. Shoto quickly grabbed the piece of clothing before walking out of her bedroom. After putting Mochi in the cat carrier he exited Aimee’s apartment, making his way back to his own place with the cat and jersey in tow.

Soon, Shoto was back at his penthouse apartment. He unlocked the door to find his mother just finishing up cleaning his livingroom, most of the evidence of his outburst washed away. She smiled at him as he sat down the carrier on the floor, “Who is this you brought with you?”

“This is Mochi, Aimee’s cat. I’m going to look after him until I bring Aimee home.” Shoto opened the carrier and the comically large cat waddled out, a soft meow greeting his mother.

“I see,” She paused, her eyes wide. “He’s a big boy isn’t he?”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he chuckled weakly, “Very.”

After getting his mother settled in his guest room, Shoto retired to his bedroom. Flopping onto his king-size bed, he hummed as he held Aimee’s spirit jersey in his hands. He brought it up to his face, taking in a soft inhale. It still smelled faintly of her signature scent of coconut. Looking over, he grabbed a pillow before pulling the jersey over it. He hugged the makeshift Aimee to his chest as he sniffled slightly. I’ll get you back.

Grabbing his phone, he began to call everyone he could think of in hopes of getting any new information. Unfortunately, everyone answered the same. Nothing new, besides the student’s statements and positive messages that the investigation was still in its early stages. The hero groaned as he tossed his phone to the other side of the bed, burying his face in the clothed pillow.

As he laid there wallowing in his anguish, Shoto’s ears perked up when he heard a soft meow next to him, the mattress shifting due to the added weight. He lifted his head to see Mochi walk over to him, laying next to the sleeve of Aimee’s jersey. He meowed again as he rubbed his head on the pillow as Shoto sighed stroking his soft fur, “I know. I miss her too.”

Vrr, Vrr. Shoto’s phone rang and buzzed on his bed. He picked it up, looking at the caller ID: Unknown. He answered the call, holding the phone to his ear, “Todoroki Shoto.”

“I heard you were looking for Lafayette. He took your girl right?” The low voice on the other line breathed.

“Who is this? Do you have Aimee? Where is she?” Shoto questioned, his voice rapidly growing dark. “If you touch a single curl on her head I’ll--”

“Whoa whoa, cool it Freezer Burn. I’m here to help. But only if you stop asking questions and just listen.”

“Please, I just want her back,” Shoto whispered desperately.

The man on the other line sighed before continuing, “I can’t just tell you what I know. I have to have plausible deniability, so I need you to think, Pretty Boy.”

“I’m listening.”

“Overhaul. What happened to his quirk destroying bullets and his quirk enhancing drug Trigger?”

Shoto hummed, tapping his chin, “I was still in high school when that happened but… I think what little authorities found was turned over to the Military for analysis.”

“You and I both know, just because your job title is Hero, doesn’t mean you are one. Good luck.”

The line went dead as Shoto pushed his hair back with his fingers, overwhelmed. Finally a lead. “I have to call Midoriya.” The hero feverishly dialed his friend before holding the receiver to his ear, a very tired Deku answering the call.

“Todoroki, I told you I’d call when I know something. You should really get some sleep.”

“No, Midoriya! I got an anonymous tip!” Shoto shouted, eager to get started on the lead. “It has something to do with Overhaul’s drugs and Military!”

“Really?” Deku replied intrigued. “I’ll look into everything tonight and we’ll call a meeting in the morning.”

“We’re going to find her, Midoriya,” Shoto promised. “I’m bringing her home.”

“Of course you are,” Deku smiled on the other line. “She has a wedding to attend after all.”

As the Shoto hung up the phone, the hero didn’t realize he was being watched. On the rooftop of the building across the street from his luxury high rise, a man chuckled lightly as he watched him through his window. His bright blue eyes shined in the night in contrast to his dark purple scars. “Go get her, baby bro.” He smirked as he tossed his burner phone off the edge, disappearing into the night.

_______________________________________________________________________

The next morning, the missing person task force met in the conference room of Endeavor’s hero agency. The heroes and sidekicks all gathered around the table, Shoto opting to stand in the back of the room. The man looked at absolute death, deep dark circles under his red and puffy eyes from lack of sleep. Midoriya made his way to the front of the room, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Thanks for coming so quickly. As you know, one of our own was taken yesterday, so time is of the essence. We have a new break in the case. We got an anonymous tip last night via phone call. They said that the kidnappings are linked to Overhaul’s quirk destroying bullets and his quirk enhancing drug Trigger.”

“How do we know this tip is credible?” Aizawa questioned as he sipped his coffee. “Were you able to trace the call?”

“The call was made on a burner phone which has since been turned off or destroyed.”

“Ok fine,” Aizawa yawned. “After Overhaul was captured, the cops collected any drugs and research on the scene and were handed over to the military for safekeeping, right?”

“Correct,” Deku paused. “But what if instead of just keeping it locked up, they continued their research?”

“Whoa whoa whoa. We can't just point fingers at the military without good reason,” Shinsou interjected.

“That’s true,” Endeavor grumbled, rubbing his own tired eyes. “We need more than just an anonymous tip to attack the military.”

“Exactly,” Deku pointed to the flame hero with a smug look on his face. “We know Lafayette Dubois is our guy. The students that witnessed Miss Faurie’s kidnapping IDed him. So we needed to find a connection between him and the military.”

“And? Please share with the class, Midoriya.” Aizawa deadpanned.

“Remember when we said that Dubois was released early from prison due to “overcrowding” but he was the only one released from his cellblock? After doing some digging and a bit of persuading, we found out he was specifically released by order of the American Military. The interesting thing is the name that signed off on the release request,” Midoriya paused, his eyes flickering over to his peppermint haired friend. “Colonel Jaques Faurie.”

“That can’t be right,” Shoto finally spoke up, a look of disbelief on his face. “Her father?”

“Let him finish, Shoto,” Enji interjected, giving his son a soft look.

Midoriya continued as he put a picture of Colonel Faurie up on the bulletin board. “Right now, we don’t have any evidence that he’s directly involved with the kidnappings. But he did know Dubois before his arrest. Perhaps he was just trying to help out a friend?”

“What kind of friend would kidnap his daughter?” Shinsou jeered, shaking his head in disgust.

Deku hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s why I find it hard to believe he’s involved. I really hope he’s not for her sake.”

“What we really need is a location,” Endeavor replied, flipping through his files. “Where is Lafayette keeping his victims?”

“There is an old warehouse building on military property that is listed as abandoned,” Deku explained as he posted a satellite image of an old building to the bulletin board. “That said, someone is still paying the electric bill, and it’s getting increasingly more expensive within the last year. If I was going to run secret experiments on kidnapped people, that seems like a good place to do it.”

“Let’s go.” Shoto made his way toward the door.

“Wait,” Endeavor bellowed, gaining his son’s attention. “It’s on military property. We can’t just march in, quirks blazing. We have to plan this right. We can’t risk getting stopped and Dubois moving the victims or worse.”

“He’s right,” Aizawa nodded. “We should wait for nightfall. We have a better chance of sneaking up to the property then.”

“We can’t just leave her there,” Shoto almost hissed. “And Dubois’ quirk works best at night.”

Enji stood, walking over to Shoto as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a risk we have to take, son. This is our best chance of getting her back. Besides, Aimee’s a tough girl.” Shoto stared into his father’s blue eyes a moment, wanting with every nerve in his body to go get her, but he knew his father was right, the duel quirked hero nodding weakly. Endeavor patted Shoto’s shoulder before addressing the room, “Okay. Go home, rest up, eat your Wheaties. We’re charging in tonight at nightfall. Dismissed.”

As the others walked out of the conference room, Shoto stayed behind. Once he was alone, he dug out his cellphone from his pants pocket. Staring at his lock screen he saw his favorite picture of Aimee. It was a candid shot of her baking beignets, flour on her face and clothes. She wasn’t looking at the camera, but she had the cutest smile on her plump lips. Shoto sighed as he ran a finger down her hair on the glass surface of his phone, longing to feel her soft curls again. “Wait for me. I’m coming.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Darkness. Nothing but vast darkness was all Aimee could see. She could tell that she was moving, but she couldn’t move her body. She figured it must be a side effect of her kidnapper's quirk. Suddenly she felt herself stop, a new wave of fear washing over her. Although she couldn’t see, she could hear mumbled voices. Two men perhaps?

Before she could make out what the voices were saying, Aimee was met with a blinding light. She tried to close and shield her eyes as she felt herself rising. When she opened her eyes she could see she was in a large mostly empty building, an older gentleman with a stethoscope around his neck in front of her. “Who-who are you? Where am I?” Aimee whispered, her guard up.

“Your new home, cher. I’ll take good care of you,” Lafayette sneered from behind her.

Using her fight or flight instincts, Aimee whipped around to face her captor, her hand making contact with his face before she even had a chance to think. Her quick attack stunned the men for a moment, giving her a chance to make a run for the door. As she ran forward, she was suddenly stopped by thick black tendrils wrapping around her ankles.

“Not so fast you little bitch!” Lafayette yelled as he pulled his tendrils tight, yanking Aimee backward. Toppling over, she fell to the ground hard, hitting her head against the concrete floor of the warehouse, effectively knocking her unconscious.

“Damn,” Lafayette mumbled, rubbing his cheek as he walked toward her body. “Homegirl’s got some swing.” He looked back to the doctor, who only shook his head at the villain.

“Was that really necessary Lafayette?”

“Shut up and help me get her in a bed.”

Just as the two were about to pick Aimee up off the cold floor, the warehouse door opened. Turning their heads they saw a large muscular man, silhouetted by the sunlight shining in, the look on his face positively pissed.

“Ah, Boss! What a surprise…” Lafayette chuckled weakly only to be interrupted by his Boss’ deep voice.

“What the fuck did you do?”

_______________________________________________________________________

Several hours later, Aimee began to come to. Her eyes blinked open as she groaned, a pulsing pain in her head. “Ugh… what happened?” She moaned as she went to hold her forehead only to feel the bite of handcuffs on her wrists. “What?” She pulled again, growing more and more frantic, “Help… Help!”

“Shh. You’re okay.”

Looking over, she finally saw a familiar face, much to her disbelief. “Daddy? Daddy is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me, Baby Girl. Daddy’s got you,” The Colonel whispered as he gently patted her hair.

“Where am I? Why am I strapped to a bed?”

“Shh, calm down,” he cooed.

“Why are all these people here?” Aimee questioned as she looked around the room. Several other people were handcuffed and strapped to hospital beds, a single doctor attending to them, but one boy stood out to her. She knew she had seen him before. She watched carefully as the boy’s body began to change. He would grow invisible for a few seconds and then back to normal, each time the child groaned in pain. “Daddy! That’s the boy from the news! He was kidnapped! We have to tell Shoto! Where’s my phone?”

“I can’t let you do that, baby girl. I need him here.”

Aimee turned to her father, bewildered, “What do you mean?”

“I’m helping people here. If I figure out how to borrow these people’s quirks, and give them to soldiers… Think of all the lives I’d be able to save. I’m just keeping a few to help the many, baby girl. Honestly, most of them are better off here, given the lives they lived.”

Aimee shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. It can't be. “Daddy no…”

The Colonel continued to pet her hair before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I never wanted you to get mixed up in this,” he sighed. “But now I can’t let you go.”

“What? No!” Aimee cried, struggling against her restraints. “Please, Daddy!”

Her father only turned his back to her cries, looking to the doctor seated nearby. “Doc, make sure she’s comfortable.”

“Yes, Boss.” He nodded, preparing a syringe.

Aimee wailed and fought against her handcuffs, ignoring the pain as they broke her skin, watching her father walk away from her. She cursed the man that was supposed to protect her and love her unconditionally. She kicked and screamed, her heart breaking into a million pieces until she felt a sharp pain in her arm. Looking down, she saw a needle, an unknown substance being injected into her.

“Shh… It will all be over soon miss,” the doctor hushed.

As she opened her mouth to refuse, she felt darkness overtaking her, her thoughts growing jumbled and hazy until finally, she was under once again.

Chapter 20

37 notes · View notes

erindoodless · 5 years

Text

With a Touch of Magic

Summary: Dan and Phil are forced to sit next to each other in class. When Phil's ex-girlfriend chases him around the school because of their breakup, he ends up trapped in a closet with Dan.

WC: 3.3k

Written with @flowerpotphil for @phanfictionevents! Also, special thanks to @itsmyusualphannie for beta reading!

[READ ON AO3]

Besides his strange cold, it was just another boring day at school for Dan. Instead of normal snot, there was some bright green slime coming from his nostrils. He didn’t know what it was, and it was a kind of making him anxious, but he decided that he would just ask his grandmother about it when he gets home.

Dan was skipping a class to make out with a boy named Tom in the cleaner’s closet. They weren’t interested in dating each other, they just wanted someone to kiss. Dan genuinely thinks no one would ever date him because his appearance was bad with his messy hair and abnormally large glasses. So, when this fling started, he was shocked to find out that someone would kiss him.

Unexpectedly, Dan sneezed. Thankfully, none of his mysterious snot landed on Tom. But it still made Dan look gross.

“What the fuck, Howell?” Tom spat out.

“Sorry, I’ve just got a bit of a cold,” Dan muttered.

“Well, if you’re sick, I think we’re done! You’ve probably gotten me sick now. Thanks a lot,” Tom responded sarcastically. It startled Dan to hear that their fling could be over.

The school bell finally rang, and Dan went off to his 3rd class of the day, Algebra. On his way, he waved to his close friend, Alex.

“Hey, Dan!” Alex yelled in response.

As he walked through the door, his teacher greeted him with “Oh, Dan, you’ve finally decided to come.”

“Sorry... sir.” Dan had forgotten his teacher’s name.

“No worries. Now stop bothering me, and go sit over there next to Phil Lester.”

Oh no, Dan thought to himself. He would have to sit next to his low key crush. Dan awkwardly went over to his seat and sat down. He and Phil made some weird eye contact.

“Hi,” Phil tried to say.

“Hi,” Dan quietly sighed out.

It would be a long year.

Later in the day, Phil was trying to walk as fast as he can through the school corridors. He would run if the school hadn’t banned running in the hallways. His ex-girlfriend Margaret was chasing him, but he just wanted her to leave him alone. He looked behind him to see how far away she was and suddenly there was a crash.

Phil ran into his best friend, Jimmy, who had fallen to the floor. “Ugh, Phil! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Jimmy said. He was clutching his face. His stuff had also gotten everywhere along with his abnormally large baseball bat.

“I’m so sorry, Jimmy! I -” and then Phil heard someone yell this name. “Sorry, I have to run!” Phil yelled.

He saw Margaret leap over Jimmy and grab Jimmy’s baseball bat as Phil continued to speed walk. When Phil had first dated Margaret, he thought it fun until he realized how controlling she was. Margaret was jealous when other girls hung out with him and became very invasive. Phil decided it was best to end the relationship to avoid hurting her feelings. So he texted her to break up.

Phil had thought she had taken the message well, but when a girl in his class asked him for a pen, Margaret saw something else.

Why is she so damn jealous? Phil thought to himself. It was just a small interaction, and now she’s chasing after him!

Suddenly, Phil found a door and took that as an opportunity to sneak in. Fortunately, it was just a closet and not a classroom full of students.

He took a deep breath and felt himself literally thanking the world because he was finally safe from Margaret.

During his math class, Dan took a break and headed to the cleaner’s closet. He has always thought of that spot as his own little place to go during the school day. Also, he felt like he was distracting other students with his cold. Not that anyone usually noticed him.

Just as he walked into the closet to let out some sneezes, someone else came in with a loud bang. A boy was panting away, and Dan was in fear he would get caught. Unluckily, he let out another sneeze.

“Who’s there?” the boy asked. From hearing his voice, Dan realized that it was Phil Lester, his small crush.

Dan was about to climb to his feet and reassure Phil know it was just him, but to his horror, he felt a sneeze build up inside of him. Unfortunately, he sneezed all over Phil’s face. They were both in shock.

“That was disgusting!” Phil yelled.

“Please don’t kill me, I just….” Dan tried to say.

“Huh?” Phil looked like he was seeing double.

The boys stared into each other’s eyes, Phil’s hands resting on Dan’s soft face, almost like they had a deep connection despite barely knowing each other.

Suddenly, the closet door whipped open. Margaret was standing in the doorway, looking confused.

“I can’t believe it!” she said.

“I know,” Dan whispered out.

“You… have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?! What?! No!” Phil yelped.

“Now your perfect appearance makes more sense!” Margaret exclaims. “You should have just told me. I would have understood.”

“Margaret…”

“Oh, your underwear pattern! I’m sorry that I thought you were…”

“I’m not gay!” Phil shouts.

“... flirting with that girl!” Margaret screams back.

“All right, I’m gay! Please calm down! We don’t want to get in trouble!” Phil cries out. It scared Dan that a teacher would hear them.

“Phil, it’s okay. I’ve heard it’s difficult to accept yourself,” she said, in her calmest manner. “You and your boyfriend can relax…”

“Boyfriend? Wait, he’s not-” Phil was interrupted by Margaret again.

“I know someone who went through something like this and he suffered a lot, but I’ll make sure nothing happens to you two.”

“Margaret-”

“I know you would never dump me for a different girl… especially since I’m the head cheerleader.” Margaret smirked. “Well, you have my support!”

“Wait, let me…”

“Yeah?” Margaret said, still holding the baseball bat.

“Uh, thank you,” Phil responded fearfully.

“You’re welcome!” Margaret said back, enthusiastically. “Well, see you!” And with that, she finally left Phil alone.

“...What did I just witness?” Dan spoke for the first time in a while. Phil had almost forgotten that he was there.

“Nothing, just forget about it,” Phil said, almost cooled down from the chase through the hallway earlier.

The situation confused Phil. He just had bright green snot projected into his face from some quiet kid he sat next to but didn't know that well, and his ex-girlfriend now thought he was gay. Amazing.

“I'm just going to leave,” Phil said, averting his gaze from Dan. He didn't really know what to say.

“Oh, okay. I'll follow.” Dan shuffled behind Phil still dazed.

“I think you should wait until I've left. It might seem strange, the kid that never speaks and the rugby guy coming out of a closet together.”

Dan did the strange exhale that comes out when you're trying not to laugh.

“This isn't funny, Dean.”

“It's Dan.”

“See you in class.”

With that, Phil walked out of the cleaner’s closet and went back to class.

“So, Mr. Lester, care to tell us where you went? And where Mr. Howell is?” The teacher tapped his ruler on his desk, pulling a face of disinterest. Everyone snickered, which hurt Phil somewhere deep inside. Or maybe that was him getting sick.

“I had to talk to someone. And I don't know where Dan- Daniel is.” Phil stood still, waiting for the teacher to shout or send him away.

But before anything else could be said, Dan burst through the door looking absolutely disheveled. Then a chorus of laughter followed. -

After the humiliating events during the school day, all Dan wanted to do was go home. Thankfully, the school bell finally rang and he could finally be free.

At least the strange problem with Phil and Margaret was over and hopefully, Phil can correct his mistake.

As he approached the exit with all the other students, he noticed a bright rainbow poster. When he got closer to the doors, he realized what was written on it:

New Couple: Dan & Phil! Support the gays!

Margaret, that bitch! Dan thought the day couldn’t get even more embarrassing than it already was, but this ruined it for him. He tore down the poster and literally speed-walked out of the school.

When he got out, he saw Phil getting ready to go on his bike, obviously oblivious to the new situation. He also realized that Margaret was standing outside, holding a huge pile of replicas of the posters and handing them out to the other students.

Dan stomped up to Phil and shoved the paper in this face.

Phil looked up in surprise, and the poster shocked him even more. “No way!” he said as he grabbed it out of Dan’s hands.

“What the fuck is this?”

Dan sighed out in slight annoyance. “You tell me.”

“Where did you find this?”

“Your girlfriend -”

“Ex-girlfriend!”

“- She’s giving them out to the school,” Dan finished.

“What?! If my rugby teammates find out, I will get kicked out!” Phil exclaimed nervously.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Why? Are they homophobic?”

“No, because they’ll think I’m dating you.”

Dan was even more annoyed now. “Well, I don’t really want any of this attention either!”

“It’s okay. I’ll fix it. It’s all one big misunderstanding. I will sort it before everyone finds out,” Phil said while walking up the school steps.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. I’m trying -” Phil abruptly stopped speaking because he realized how far Margaret went.

As both boys stepped back into the school, there was a large banner that read:

Vote For Sexual Diversity

It stunned Phil. “Okay, wow. I understand.”

Margaret smiled over to them. “Hey Phil! What do you think of the banner? I told you I’ll support you!”

“Yeah, I need to tell you something about that…?”

“Do you like my new shirt?” It said Support Dan and Phil with a large heart.

“No.”

“The rainbow heart was my idea…”

“Listen, Margaret, thank you for everything you’ve done, but you don’t understand the situation.”

“Do you mean we didn’t break up?”

“No! We definitely broke up. I don’t mean that!”

Suddenly, a deep voice came over the loudspeaker. “Phil Lester, please report to the Headmaster’s office.”

“Well, you are probably busy with everything happening. See you later!”

“Yeah…”

The headmaster sat down and gestured for Phil to sit opposite.

“Now, Philip, do you know what this is about?”

Phil rolled his eyes. He knew what this was about. Margaret.

“The flyers and posters?”

“Indeed. So, you and Daniel are perfectly fine to be in a relationship. In fact, it's lovely to see! However, we cannot have a commotion, and if there is any fuss about whether you are accepted by your peers, and Daniel's, I will take over the matter.”

Phil struggled to not roll his eyes. He was not gay. He was not in a relationship with Daniel Howell.

“Yeah, sure, got it.”

Wait, why didn't he deny it?

“Good. Now Philip-”

“Please call me Phil.”

“Philip. I support you fully. But please, please talk to Margaret.”

No one liked to stop her whenever she got stuck into something, and this activism was no different. Plus, she had a baseball bat. Totally not scary.

“Why can't you? I really don't want to.”

Phil tried to get out of it.

“Please, Phil. Now you're free to go unless there's something else you need?”

“No, sir. Have a good day.”

Dan leaned on the wall outside of the Headmaster’s office, waiting for Phil to come out. He still didn’t understand why this whole situation was happening.

Unexpectedly, Phil came out of the office, letting out a big sigh.

“Did you get in trouble?” Dan asked.

Phil looked surprised to see him. “Were you waiting for me...?

“Yeah…”

“Anyway, I didn’t really get in trouble. Well, I’m not sure anymore.”

“What? Did you say the rumor is fake?”

“No, I’ll do it… right now! Hey everyone!”

Margaret suddenly came out of nowhere. “Everything okay?”

“No! We need to talk about this situation!”

“Stop saying Dean and me…”

“Again, it’s Dan,” Dan corrected.

“Dan, really? What type of name is that?”

“I don’t know. A normal English name, short for Daniel.”

Phil became fascinated by him. “That’s cool.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah…” Phil smiled at him dreamily.

Margaret was enjoying the young love appearing in front of her. “I really love how you guys get along so well.”

“Please stop Margaret,” Phil replied in his annoyed tone. He grabbed Margaret’s hand. "Let’s talk over here.”

I wonder how Margaret will take it, Dan thought. She seemed understanding of the situation when Phil was explaining. Looks like it’s going well enough.

Dan saw Margaret happily walk away while Phil was cowering in fear. Despite Phil’s reaction, it made Dan believe that it was all okay. Phil walked back over to Dan.

“So, what happened?”

“Looks like we are dating!”

It shocked Dan to hear the news. “What?! We are dating?”

“I’m sorry for involving you in this, but can you do this for me for just a few days? I bet Margaret will forget about it soon.”

“Okay…”

“That was so much easier than I thought it would be…”

“But with some conditions.”

“God, of course, there are.”

“Carry my books every day.”

“What? No way!”

“And you have to get me lunch every day.”

“Nope! I’m not doing that.”

“Three days a week.”

“Once a week.”

“Starting now! And one more thing…”

Phil sighed. “What?”

“... If you could ask your rugby teammates to stop calling me a Hobbit, that would be great!”

That made Phil laugh out loud. “But it fits you!”

“Shut up!” Dan smiled and blushed a bit. He appreciated Phil’s laugh way more than he wanted to.

“Okay fine, I’ll talk to them.”

“Cool! We have a deal.”

And with that, the boys shook hands.

Talking to the rugby guys would not be an easy job, at least that's what Phil was thinking. He had to dash off to practice and thought he should just spit it out in the locker rooms.

A bunch of hormonal teenagers is never the best situation, and to say Phil was feeling apprehensive was an understatement.

“Guys, I have something to ask you.”

They all turned to stare at Phil.

“We know you're gay, and that's completely fine, as long as you don't come on to me,” Aled assured.

“No! I mean, I don't know. All I need you to do is to stop calling Dan a Hobbit.” Phil gave a nervous smile, and all the rugby team nodded.

“Cool with us,” Tao said.

And that was that. Done. Over.

That was until Phil saw Margaret out on the field. She was holding rainbow pom-poms and was wearing the t-shirt she has printed. Oh my God, when will she stop?

“S-U-P-O-R-T” she cheered, jumping up and down, she didn't even realize that she had spelled ‘support’ wrong, but no one wanted to tell her that. After all, where was the baseball bat?

The hour of rugby passed quickly, turns out that being shoved into a muddy field worked wonders for forgetting things.

“Tell Dan we will stop calling him Hobbit, so long as he doesn't break your heart,“ Aled said, slapping on Phil’s back as he walked past. Phil desperately wanted to set the story straight - ironically, that he was straight. But something inside him was enjoying this.

The next morning, Dan was still sneezing the strange slime-like snot. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.

He just wanted to eat his breakfast like a normal person, but his obnoxious cold was ruining it for him.

“Dan, you good? You need new tissue?” his brother Adrian questioned him.

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He seemed a little annoyed by his brother’s words. He seemed too ill to eat breakfast anyway. Dan walked out the door, feeling his father’s glare on his back, probably from being harsh towards his brother.

Dan began down the pathway to school.

Suddenly, he heard a small, grey car, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop. And Phil was sitting in the driver’s seat.

Phil’s random appearance confused Dan. “Uhh… What are you doing here?”

Phil looked at Dan cooly. “Well, I thought I should probably pick you so it will look like we are dating. Get in.”

“Um, okay?” Dan opened the passenger door and climbed into the vehicle.

They both sat in awkward silence as Phil drove them closer to the school. Dan already lived only 5 minutes away from the school and he had been walking to it for a while, so he didn’t really understand why Phil felt the urge to do this.

After about a minute of Phil driving, which felt like forever to Dan, they finally arrived at the school parking lot.

On the outside of the building, everything was ordinary and it seemed like Margaret hadn’t done any damage yet, but Dan feared what would be on the inside.

Phil got out of the car while Dan was busy thinking. He walked over to Dan’s side of the car and opened the door for him. Dan was shocked by his manners. He felt extremely awkward.

“Uh…thanks,” Dan muttered. He got out the car, feeling his cheeks fill with red from all the eyes glaring at them.

“No problem,” Phil replied quietly.

And then, Phil abruptly took Dan’s hand in his own, and Dan started to freak out. He was holding hands with an incredibly attractive and popular boy. Who wouldn’t be?

Dan was still extremely stunned by Phil’s drastic movements so Phil basically dragged him into the school.

When they got in, Phil unhooked their hands and unexpectedly hugged Dan.

“See you after school,” Phil whispered into his ear. Dan blushed again from the sensation of Phil’s hot breath in his ear.

If this is what it was going to be like dating Phil, then maybe Dan didn’t mind at all.

The routine of Phil greeting Dan in the morning and dropping him off after school went on for weeks. Dan was crushing harder and harder on him as time went on.

Dan’s cold never went away throughout these weeks. He was scared he would have to tell his father, who would probably just send him to a doctor.

He believed it was more than just a plain old cold. No one had ever had green slime-like liquid pour out of their nose, at least as far as Dan knew.

One day after Phil had dropped Dan off back at home, Dan felt some strange feelings throughout his body. He ran up to his bedroom and immediately locked the door.

Suddenly, everything in his room, including Dan himself, began to float. There was an obscure, sparkling green dust floating around.

Out of nowhere, the door burst open - even though Dan thought he locked it - and Phil stood at the entrance while Dan just looked at him, wide-eyed while screaming. He had no control over what was happening.

“Dan, calm down!” Phil yelled.

Without a warning, everything went back down to the ground. Dan fell with a loud flop, and he curled up in a ball. He was dazed, feeling the pain from hitting the hard wooden ground.

Phil was amazed. “Holy shit! Dan?! What was that?! Are you okay?!”

Dan sat up as Phil properly locked the door. “I don’t know? I’m just as confused as you are. All I know is you somehow stopped it.”

Had that moment in the cleaner’s closet somehow connected them both? Did Phil have control over what is happening to him? Dan was even more perplexed than he was before.

Phil sat down next to him on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

Dan shook his head. “No, not really. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it’s really annoying.” He put his head between his legs.

Suddenly, Dan was engulfed in Phil’s arms.

“Don’t worry. We can figure it out together.”

#phan #daniel howell #phil lester #amazingphil #dan howell #dan and phil #dnp #erin writes

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a-damson-in-distress · 5 years

Text

Havoc - Chapter 3

Pairing: SasuSaku

Plot: Sasuke knew people were still afraid of the club and especially of its Sergeant at Arms – and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had been untouchable then and still was now. Indeed, there was nothing and no one in this world that Sasuke Uchiha feared. Except Sakura fucking Haruno. Biker AU.

Note: I absolutely did not plan on going into so much detail for the action of this chapter, but here we are. Also, if you want some background music to get you in the mood for this particular scene (especially the Zippo lighter moment), here’s my recommendation: Heavy Young Heathens - Being Evil Has A Price. Hope you like it, let me know what you think.

----------

“So what are you gonna do about your kid’s grades?”

“I don’t know, man. Got any good tutors you could recommend?”

Kai could hear muffled voices right next to his head, though he couldn’t see anything. He just regained consciousness, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what had happened. The last thing he recalled was being cornered in a bar by one of the Havoc’s enforcers and his men, who promptly proceeded to beat the everloving shit out of him.

He wanted to move his tongue to lick his dry lips when he suddenly realised they gagged him. Kai tried to move his head to see if he could shake off whatever they put over his head, but it was futile. It seemed to be some sort of dark cloth, maybe burlap, and they tied it tightly around his neck.

“Don’t ask me about tutors, you know my kid scared off the last three.” He was now conscious enough to make out every word the two men said. If he heard right, they were both standing to his left and right.

“Well, I don’t know what else to do. He doesn’t wanna study on his own, and when Nami or I try to help him he gets all defensive and accuses us of thinking he’s incapable.”

The man to Kai’s right scoffed. “He’s thirteen, of course he’s going to give his parents hell. Don’t worry about it too much, he’ll grow up soon enough.”

There was a deep sigh to his left before the other one raised his voice again. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, that he’ll grow up too soon. Suddenly, our main worry won’t be school anymore, but doing drugs, jumping off cliffs, and bringing girls home without asking.”

The man to Kai’s right let out a teasing chuckle before asking, “Wasn’t that exactly what you were doing during puberty? Come on, man, you sound like some sort of suburban dad who wears polo shirts and drives a minivan instead of a Harley. Your entire family is part of an MC and your kid was always bound to grow up around certain stuff other kids couldn’t even imagine in their wildest dreams. Instead of shielding him from it, show him the ugly truth, scare him off a bit, toughen him up. Don’t worry man, he’ll turn out just fine.”

There was an undiscernible murmur to Kai’s left which was interrupted by the roaring sound of multiple motorcycles approaching.

“Looks like the show’s about to begin,” the man to his right chuckled in a menacing tone.

He could feel hands grabbing the cloth tied around his head and ripping it off with such force his head jerked back. While his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the hall, another hand grabbed the gag and released it form his mouth. Kai immediately took the chance to make his anger known. “What the fuck is wrong with you two fuckheads? You kidnap me and tie me up in this reeking warehouse and have a fucking heart-to-heart?!”

The only thing he was met with was silence and the two men grinning down at him with smug satisfaction before turning their heads to the right. Kai followed their gazes and when his eyes landed on a third figure casually leaning against an oil barrel and sharpening a knife in silence, he gulped.

“Oh shit.”

The grey-haired man slowly raised his head and fixed Kai with his signature bored stare. Only there was also a hint of a threat in them, enough to make the young man question every last one of his life choices so far.

“Oh shit, indeed,” the man drawled.

It was then Kai heard the distant chatter from outside mixed with heavy boots stomping around and drawing closer. Clattering noise echoed through the room a few seconds later, and Kai could hear a door hit a wall from the other end of the hall. The voices became louder and louder until Kai realised the entire Havoc MC was swarming into the warehouse and forming a circle around the chair he was tied to.

The sea of people parted around the Havoc’s president still leaning against the barrel to Kai’s left. Kakashi kept his calm and scrutinising look on him, but Kai knew the old man was seething inside. The Prez shoved his knife into his right boot and proceeded to slowly approach the middle of the circle in languid strides, his gaze never once leaving Kai.

Even though Kakashi was known for his unperturbed and relaxed disposition, never allowing himself to lose his cool and basically being the opposite of aggressive intimidation, he had the uncanny ability to bring the meanest motherfucker to his knees with just a stare. No furrowing of brows, no baring of teeth. Nothing.

Just a good old-fashioned menacing glare.

Kai could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His mouth felt dry, and his pulse quickened. He had always been scared shitless of the Havoc’s President, because he grew up during the club’s bloodthirsty past. Despite giving up a majority of what made them so feared back then, the President and his club hadn’t lost a single bit of their intimidating aura.

After Kakashi studied him for what felt like an eternity, he finally raised his voice.

“So, you thought you could use my baby girl’s book shop to sell drugs, huh?”

The grey-haired man cocked his head to the left and crossed his arms in front of his chest. There was still no visible sign of anger to be found anywhere on his face. And yet his calm and collected demeanour hid a raging storm ready to be unleashed upon any fool who dared to cross his precious little girl.

Everybody knew the Havoc’s President’s only weakness was his daughter, even Kai was aware of that. What he didn’t know, however, was that she owned a book shop – the book shop. He would have mentally slapped himself to death for not noticing that teeny-tiny impractical detail, if it weren’t for the fact that the Prez – or anybody else for that matter – barely talked about Sakura fucking Haruno or what the fuck kind of shop she owned.

Kai gulped as he felt the vindictive eyes of the entire club staring daggers into him. He wished Kakashi would just get on with it, beat the shit out of him, and be done with it. The intense stares, the palpable tension, and the heavy silence filled with threatening promises were killing him.

He was torn from his thoughts when he heard the President’s voice again. His frightful eyes shot up to meet Kakashi’s deadpan expression.

“You know the Havoc has sworn off drugs decades ago. You know the Havoc has sworn off unnecessary violence and bloodshed. But even though we no longer pillage, burn, and murder,” Kakashi walked around Kai’s chair and was now standing behind him, placing both his hands on his shoulders, painfully digging his fingers into his flesh, “we’re still damn good at breaking bones. If someone crosses the club, you can bet your ass we’re going to rip ‘em a new one. If someone crosses my daughter,” the President leaned forward and grabbed Kai’s chin in his left hand, squeezing so hard his jaw was seconds away from being dislocated, “the club will hunt you down. We will break each and everyone of your bones in alphabetical order. And we’ll shove our boots so far up your ass, you’ll taste nothing but leather and dirt for a year.”

At this point, Kai was trembling in his chair, frantically trying to keep his head still so that Kakashi wouldn’t dislocate his jaw.

“But,” with a booming voice the President suddenly let go off his face and straightened himself again, “I promised my daughter that I would no longer get my hands dirty with that kinda shit. So unfortunately, I won’t be the lucky one who gets to gut you like a pig. I reserved that honour for someone else.”

Kai felt the older man’s fingers digging into his shoulders again. His panic-struck eyes jumped back and forth between the countless Havoc bikers, his breath was coming out in quick, short gasps. A mixture of sweat, tears, and snot ran down his face while his brain was frantically trying to think of whoever else Kakashi could have assigned to kick his ass.

Jiraiya? Too old for this crap.

Asuma? Got a kid, he’d grown too soft.

Naruto? Too much of a goofball, not torturer material.

He was torn from his thoughts when he watched the crowd of Havoc bikers part, exposing a long corridor right in front of him leading to a darkened room behind the murderous mob. Kai realised then that many of the bikers had smug, satisfied smirks gracing their faces while turning their gazes to the pitch-black room in the back.

A slap on the shoulder reminded him of the president’s presence behind him.

“Enjoy the show, I know I will. Once he’s done with you, you’ll think a brain tumour is a birthday present.”

The crowd went silent.

Seconds ticked by where nothing happened.

Kai had his eyes focused on the same blacked-out room everybody else was expectantly staring at. There was nothing there. No outline of another person. No sound. Nothing.

Just darkness. Silence.

Click.

A Zippo lighter was ignited in the shadow, enveloping parts of the room in its warm, subtle light and revealing the outline of a broad chest, undoubtedly male, dressed entirely in black. Kai couldn’t make out a face, since the man held the lighter rather low. After another second, he started moving his hand, revealing parts of his biker vest with various Havoc patches sewn onto it, a jaw with a prominent three-o’clock-shadow, a mouth set in a grim line, and jet-black eyes staring at him with a silent promise of vengeful terror.

“Oh shit,” Kai whispered.

The fucking Sergeant.

He watched the Havoc’s Vice-President and Sergeant-at-Arms narrow his eyes before he lowered himself to a crouching position, right hand still clutching the Zippo lighter illuminating his face. The Sergeant’s eyes landed on something on the ground right in front of his feet, and he moved his lighter towards it. Though the tiny flame was no longer close to his face, Kai could clearly see his lips tugging into a devilish smirk.

It was then Kai realised that what captured the Sergeant’s gaze on the ground to his feet was wet and glistening. Kai’s eyes followed the liquid and trailed from the crouching Sergeant all the way to the ground in front of his own chair, and his eyes widened.

The fluid formed a straight line from him to the Zippo lighter held threateningly close to the tiny puddle at the Sarge’s feet.

Sasuke’s eyes shot up to meet his again. His grin widened ever so slightly as he let the lighter fall into the fluid, setting it ablaze.

“Oh shit shit shit shit, fucking holy shit, no, fuck this man, shit, fu – “

Sasuke watched with glee as the prospect struggled to free himself from the ropes tying him down. He wiggled around, desperately trying to get the chair further away from the line of gasoline. By the time the fire almost reached him, he was squealing like a pig in a slaughter house. Which, Sasuke had to remind himself, he was, in a way.

Kai could no longer watch the fire approach him, so he closed his eyes and let out a long, agonised scream, adding some high-pitched wailing for good measure.

It was even more pathetic than Sasuke imagined.

After a few seconds, where nothing but the prospect’s sobbing filled the otherwise silent warehouse, Kai seemed to get a hold of himself and opened his eyes again, only to find the fire ended a few centimetres in front of his chair and had no way of enveloping him in its flames.

The snivelling prospect shot Sasuke an incredulous look before another long, strangled wail was released from behind his clenched teeth.

Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired biker stepped around the fire and stomped towards the chair in the middle of the room. He didn’t waste a second with punching the sobbing prospect right in his face, effectively shutting him up. Sasuke gave the kid a second to catch his breath and spit out the blood gathering in his mouth before he reached back with his right hand, grabbed Kai’s hair, and yanked back his head.

Sasuke was now towering over the young man, his fingers painfully digging into his skull. He gave him one long hard look of barely restrained rage before growling, “You should’ve thought twice about messing with her.”

Placing his other hand on the back of Kai’s head, Sasuke pulled it down as far as the ropes allowed it and kicked his left knee into his face with such a force the chair was knocked back and Kai almost toppled over. In that instant, Sasuke placed his left foot on the front stretcher of the chair and yanked it back again.

The Sergeant let out a long, content sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “If you had done what you did a few years ago,” he drawled while sauntering over to a tool trolley close to the chair, “I could have pretty much done whatever I wanted with you.”

Sasuke held up a pair of pliers as if to examine their usefulness in his hypothetical torture scenario. With the pliers in hand, he walked back to Kai, forced his mouth open and clamped down the jaws on his front tooth. “Could’ve pulled out your teeth. One by one. Real nice and slow, make sure you feel every bit of it.” Sasuke could feel his lips tugging into a devilish smirk at the sight of the prospect’s eyes widening in terror.

He let go of his chin and walked back to the tool trolley. After picking up a hammer, he flipped it in his hand before pointing it at the quivering heap of misery in front of him. “I could also use this to hammer some nice big splinters into your nail bed.” Another sob broke free from the prospect.

With his grin widening, Sasuke dropped the hammer and picked up a big wrench with adjustable jaws instead, weighing it in his hand before raising it for the prospect to see. “Ah, the things I did with this beauty.” Sasuke widened the head of the wrench, then pointedly turned his gaze to Kai’s crotch before letting the jaws snap shut. The sound of the wrench’s head closing made the prospect flinch and press his knees together in a half-hearted attempt to protect his crown jewels.

The Sergeant’s gaze darkened suddenly, the grin slipping off his lips as he put away the wrench and approached the prospect with slow, deliberate steps. Dressed entirely in black and with a murderous look in his eyes, Sasuke looked every bit as a starved panther encircling his prey. Growling. Waiting. Calculating the perfect moment to go in for the kill.

The raven-haired biker came to a halt right in front of the chair and looked down at Kai.

“You should count yourself lucky you did what you did now and not years ago. Otherwise I would have gutted you like a fish and hung your insides out to dry and nobody would have stopped me. Though none of that changes the fact that you crossed one of our own. You fuck with us, we fuck you back. You fuck with her,” Sasuke growled while leaning down and grabbing Kai’s chin between his fingers, murderous rage emitting from his pitch-black eyes, “and I swear to God I will disfigure you so much not even your Maker will be able to recognise you.”

With that, Sasuke reached back with his right arm and punched the prospect in his face with such a force he knocked out a few teeth.

And he didn’t stop there. The next minutes were filled with the sounds of Sasuke violently landing blow after blow to Kai’s already battered face and the poor bastard’s pained and strangled groans. The Sergeant was sure if he kept this up for much longer, he probably would have beaten him unconscious – if it weren’t for that voice suddenly calling out to him from behind.

“Sasuke.”

His fist halted mid-strike, hovering centimetres above the bloodied and busted lip of his victim. Sasuke could suddenly hear his own breathing coming out in quick and shallow gasps, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the prospect of taking revenge on that piece of shit for putting her in danger.

Letting out a deep, controlled breath, Sasuke lowered his hand and fixed his cold eyes on Kai. He leaned down and whispered threateningly, “You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for her,” before straightening himself and turning to face the woman behind him.

His gaze immediately softened at the sight of Sakura staring at him with a mixture of concern and determination before allowing her eyes to rest on the battered bastard in the chair.

“It was my book shop he used. Pretty sure I get to do the honours, don’t you think?” she asked while strutting towards both men.

Sakura came to a halt right in front of the chair and fixed Kai with her signature I’m-about-to-fuck-you-up glare. “Anything you have to say in your defence?”

The poor fucker was so badly beaten up, he couldn’t even keep his head straight. So Sasuke grabbed a few strands of his hair and yanked his head up to meet her gaze while growling, “You look a lady in the eye when she speaks to you.”

“’msorry,” came the weak, gurgled response from behind bloodied teeth.

“You’re sorry. That all you’ve got to say?” Sakura crossed her arms in front of her chest.

The only reply was a broken sob.

“You have no idea of the scale of the damage you could have caused with your half-baked attempt at dealing drugs. Not only did you jeopardise me and the future of my entire career, but you could have been the one responsible for the deaths of countless drug abusers. If anybody OD-ed on the shit you were trying to sell, do you think you could still live with – “

“I’m sorry, okay. Jesus fuck, woman, I’m sorry, is that what you wanna hear? Just- just get this over with, man,” Kai yelled out sobbing, which immediately resulted in another punch in the face from Sasuke.

“Don’t interrupt a lady when she talks to you.”

Sasuke’s eyes landed on Sakura when he heard her sigh next to him. “Alright, I think this is enough. Let’s finish this.”

She turned away from the chair and walked over to Kakashi, still leaning on his oil barrel, a blow torch in one and a branding iron in the other hand. She grabbed the cold end of the iron rod, turned around, and strutted back. Sasuke watched her come to a halt right in front of the chair, her gaze jumping back and forth between the branding iron in her right hand and the beaten-up bastard tied to the chair.

Sasuke took another step to close the distance between them. Raising his fingers to her chin, he lifted her head and forced her gaze to meet his. In that moment, he didn’t care that he was being gentle in front of his hard-ass biker friends, he didn’t care that her father was watching, who he was sure would bust his balls later on for getting all touchy-feely with his precious daughter. Sasuke didn’t care about anything but the fact that for the first time in years, Sakura’s jade-green eyes weren’t looking at him with contempt and regret.

For the first time in years, his Sakura was staring at him with the same look she had when they were young and stupid and in love, full of honesty and vulnerability.

Sasuke’s thumb stroked her chin as he softly whispered, “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart.”

Her doubtful gaze landed on the branding iron again. “You’re too pure for this kind of shit. Let me do the dirty work Just say the word and it’ll be done. I’ll do it. For you.”

When Sakura raised her eyes again to meet his, Sasuke was met with a look of pure determination.

She turned her head, releasing her chin from his hold, stepped forward and planted the hot branding iron right on to Kai’s naked chest.

After relishing his screams for a few seconds, she lifted the iron rod and marvelled at the sight of the mark she left behind: the words Havoc and Rogue were now clearly branded into his bloodied skin, marking him as an outcast in the world of outlaw MCs. The Havocs were still one of the most feared motorcycle clubs in the country, and there were not a lot of bikers who dared to cross them or question their judgement. Whomever they branded as a rogue would be treated as such by other bikers as well. This mark would make sure Kai would never again find a place in another club.

Sasuke watched Sakura’s shoulders slump as she let out a long breath. Though a part of him was concerned for her well-being and would like nothing more than to shield her from such dark and ugly things as the one she just experienced, there was another part of him, admittedly an even bigger one, who was immensely proud of her, the part which would love to put her on a pedestal, shine a spotlight on her, grab her hand and raise it in the air like she was a fucking boxing champion.

Sasuke’s eyes landed on the now unconscious Kai slumped in his chair, head hanging down, drool and blood dripping from his busted lips. The Sergeant’s gaze focused on the mark on his chest.

His girl did that. Sakura stepped in, did what was necessary, stood up for herself, and proved her strength in front of the entire club. If anybody had any doubts about the fact that Sakura fucking Haruno was a hair-raising, spine-chilling, blood-curdling badass, Sasuke was sure she just annihilated them.

With a proud grin tugging at his lips, the raven-haired biker turned around to face the crowd of Havocs. “If any member of our club decides to cross a line like that ever again, you can bet your asses that I will hunt them down and fuck them up. I don’t care if you’re a prospect who’s only been with us for a month or a dedicated patch holder who wipes the Dope’s ass whenever he gets shitfaced,” his best friend made his complaint about that remark loudly known from somewhere in the crowd, “there will be no mercy. The club looks after its own. And if you think for one second that doesn’t apply to her,” Sasuke grabbed Kai’s hair and yanked up his battered face for all to see before growling, “then take a good look at this fucker and think again.”

----------

It was one in the morning when Sasuke entered the kitchen of the Havoc’s clubhouse to grab a bite to eat. He had spent the last two hours in the gym blowing off steam after returning home from dealing with Kai. In the end, it turned out he had more rage bottled up inside him than he initially thought, and since Sakura had stopped him from properly working through his anger, he still had some punching to do.

Slapping together what looked like a piss-poor and half-assed attempt at a sandwich, Sasuke left the kitchen and was heading towards his room when he saw Sakura staring holes into her laptop in the bar across the hall. He slid into her booth and placed the plate with his sandwich in front of him, which seemed to tear her from her thoughts and made her look up in surprise.

“It’s one in the morning, what the hell are you still doing up?”

She blinked a few times before answering, “Uh… couldn’t sleep. So I’m going through my inventory and browsing through lists of newly published books, trying to decide which ones to buy.”

“Any good ones?” Sasuke asked before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her take off her reading glasses and rub her eyes while sighing. “Honestly, they’re all crap,” she murmured with a laugh.

Her shoulders slumped and she sunk deeper into her seat, leaning her head on the backrest of the booth and closing her eyes. She looked exhausted, Sasuke noted, and yet she still couldn’t sleep. He wished he could take all of that away or take her away from all of this crap.

“I know what you did today wasn’t easy. Wanna talk about it?”

Her head rolled to the left and she opened her tired eyes again to look at him with an undiscernible expression for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, “I’m not weak Sasuke. What I did to that prospect doesn’t bother me.”

“Then what is it?”

Sakura sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Honestly? I’m kind of bothered by the fact that it doesn’t bother me. Does that make sense?”

She turned to him again and looked at him questioningly. Sasuke just nodded and allowed her to continue. “I mean I get it, in a way, you know. I grew up in an MC, I was surrounded by weird shit for the majority of my life. I get that my moral compass is fucked up. Things that would scare other people shitless never really bothered me that much. But I got out, you know? I left all of that behind. For a long time now, I’ve been living a normal life – whatever that is. I thought I grew into it. But then this shit happens and I need to come back to the club and I just dip one toe in these waters and I’m immediately sucked back in again. Like all of that emotional growth I thought I had gone through over the last years went up in smoke. If anything, tonight just proves that no matter how much I try to shut out this part of my life, I’ll always be a club member. I’ll always be the crazy biker bitch whose daddy taught her to wield a Butterfly knife at twelve and who tortures little kids with a branding iron and feels no remorse about it.”

“And that’s bad?”

Sasuke watched her eyes widen in shock and look at him as if he sprouted a second head.

“Yes, that’s bad, Sasuke. I’m supposed to feel horrible about what I did tonight.”

“No, I mean the rest. What’s so bad about you always being a member of the club? You said it yourself, you were raised in an MC and you can’t undo that. Much like people who were raised in an orphanage can’t undo the fact that they grew up without parents. Your upbringing sticks with you for the rest of your life, why would you wanna hide from it?”

Sakura kept her pensive gaze fixed on the ceiling above her and answered with silence.

“I watched you during the party, you know. Playing pool, goofing around with Ino, catching up with old friends. You didn’t seem out of place at all. You seemed comfortable, like you never left.” Sasuke carefully raised his right hand to tug a strand of hair behind her ear before murmuring, “Like this is where you actually belong.”

When Sakura didn’t make a move to stop him, he ran his fingers through her hair and started playing with the ends as he continued, “As much as you try to hide it, I know that deep down, your heart is still tied to the club. To its members.”

To me.

“You’ve been running from it for so long, pretending to be someone else. Why don’t you just embrace what really makes you happy? Fuck what other people think about you branding little wannabe drug dealers, we do that all the time here, it’s called a Tuesday morning.”

Sasuke could feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of her lips tugging into a tiny smirk. His fingers closed around a strand of her hair, tugging it gently down to force her head to face him.

“You know you belong here, Sakura.”

They both shared a long intense look. Sakura’s eyes shone with the same sort of openness and vulnerability as they did when she looked at him in the warehouse earlier, and Sasuke had serious trouble not letting his gaze drop down to her inviting lips.

“Don’t do this, Sasuke,” she murmured.

“Why not?” His eyes swept back and forth between her jade-green orbs and his fingers who were still lost in the sea of her pink hair.

“Because I’m still mad at you.” Sasuke fixed his gaze on her face where he found the exact opposite of an angry expression. And still, he knew there was resentment left inside of her, a deeply-festered regret not allowing her to move on.

“Don’t let me stand in the way of your happiness. I mean it, Sakura.”

“What if that happiness doesn’t involve the club? Or you? Will you be in my way then?”

Sakura stared at him expectantly. Seconds ticked by where they just looked at each other, because Sasuke seriously didn’t know how to answer that question.

He heard her sigh and watched her close her eyes, before she raised her hand to grab his own and pull it out of her hair. Grabbing her laptop and reading glasses, Sakura stood up and was just about to leave, when she turned around, leaned over the table and pinned Sasuke with a threatening glare.

“If you tell anyone I had a heart-to-heart with you, I will gouge out your eyeballs while you sleep, understood?”

She didn’t even give him a chance to answer, instead turning on her heel and strutting out of the bar.

Sasuke couldn’t help but smirk proudly as he yelled after her, “Told you you belong here!”

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fanfiction #Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #sasuke uchiha fanfic #sakura haruno fanfic #sakusasu

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pinkforyoongi · 6 years

Text

Best friends to lovers | Lee Felix

pairing: felix x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 4,3k

warnings: swearing, slight mentions of bullying

a/n: okay so lately i’ve really been getting into stray kids uwu i think i already consider myself a stay :) one day i just felt like writing some fluff and i was wondering who to write for so i thought hey- felix would fit this concept (also i wrote this on his birthday happy late birthday to him ♥) and i’m pretty happy with the end result! hope you enjoy! ~

you met lee felix when you were 5 years old

it was winter and it had just snowed, so you were outside with the girl from your neighbor, dahyun, building snowmen

felix arrived on the scene with another boy, changbin, who was the epitome of evil and every kid on the block knew that

changbin would break everyones sand castles and laugh, call girls gross and pull their hair

he had done that to you too, several times

it seemed like no one was safe from the little demon’s wrath, but for some reason, this boy, felix, was by his side and for some reason, changbin hadn't yet made him cry

your friend had snorted at the sight of the bully, telling the boy duo to go away

as expected, changbin had laughed and made his way over

you had stood up from the ground where you were rolling a snowball and placed yourself between changbin and your snowman

no bully could scare you

the boy had given you a weird look, then tugged the sleeve of his friends jacket

"felix, destroy (y/n)'s snowman"

you turned to stare at the boy in question, glaring at him as threateningly as you could

but somehow changbin had brain washed his friend into his evil shenanigans, as he, without hesitation, pushed you aside and proceeded to kick your wonderful snowman to the ground with you

dahyun had yelled for her mom after that, making the boys flee the scene with basically fire under their butts

but not before you had given felix one last glance, as if telling him he'd regret it and you would not forget his face

not long after that you met felix for the second time

you had learned from your parents that felix and his family were new

he had just moved into the neighborhood from australia and changbins and his parents were childhood long friends

that explained why they were together and why he was also evil

changbin must have infected him with evilness a long time ago - you thought

this time you were alone, playing outside in the snow again, when you saw felix approach you from the corner of your eye

you lifted your head up to stare at the boy who now stood in front of you

he didn't say anything, just stared

you gave him a look to make sure he knew just how displeased you were of his sudden appearance

but his next words surprised you completely

"hey wanna be friends?"

you were beyond angry at his seemingly innocent suggestion

how dare he ask such things from you after what he had done

and because you had been a feisty little kid, you showed him your little fist in response

you weren't having any of this

you were expecting him to laugh, smirk, anything that showed just how evil he was

but once again, the boy surprised you

he began to pout, looking like he was about to cry

"you don't want to be my friend?”

you weren't planning on talking to him at all, but he was acting really strange for a bully

so you spoke to him

"you destroyed my snowman" you stated, reminding him of his horrible crime

still, on the verge of tears, felix muttered:

"i felt bad. it was a really nice snowman. i'm sorry."

you were a confused little you, pouting in thought, trying to figure out the true intentions of this strangely behaving kid

"then why did you do it? why are you friends with changbin the monster?"

felix sniffled, his nose already red from the cold

"our mom's are friends. they told us to play together. changbin can be nice too, i swear! he has a cool train collection."

you stood up from the ground to inspect the boy closer, trying to see if he was hiding a snowball or something behind his back

or worse yet, if that little demon boy was hiding somewhere nearby, ready to attack you any moment

but you found nothing

nothing to prove his intentions were bad

you didn't trust him yet, but something made you stick your hand out to him

"i'll be your friend if you rebuild my snowman with me."

felix stared at your hand, but quickly took it, shaking it excitedly as a wide grin spread on his face

"deal!"

for the next few hours the two of you spent building many different looking snowmen, laughing and having fun

and that's how you and lee felix became friends

as time passed and you began to trust him more, you introduced your new friend to your parents

your parents absolutely adored him, always calling him cute whenever he showed them a bright smile and gushing over his little freckles

so you invited him over, your parents making it a big deal since he was the first boy to ever enter your room

they would tease you occasionally, but to you it didn't seem that big of a deal

he was just a really good friend

felix eventually introduced you to changbin properly

the two of you had been careful around each other at first

changbin even tried to prank you a couple of times

but each time felix protected you from his evil wrath

changbins tries to bully you soon ended however, as you had the chance to bite his arm, after which he learned not to mess with you

and before you knew it, you were friends with seo changbin, the bully of your neighborhood, who turned out to be an actual softie, especially when it came to fluffy plushies

the three of you were close and rarely fought

there were times when changbin would call you gross, but you'd remind him of that one time he wiped snot into his sleeve and he'd get embarrassed pretty quickly

you can recall one time you and felix had a fight

he was over at your place and you had showed him your barbie coloring book and your new set of sharpies

you had promised him he could color one picture from your book if he wouldn't ruin your sharpies

but you were horrified when you saw felix pick out a green pen and color in barbies hair

you had screamed and snatched the object from the poor boys hand, making him jump from surprise

"you poopoo head! barbies hair is yellow not green!"

felix had tried to explain he thought green would look cool on her but you weren't having any of it

it was a damn crime to color barbies hair any other color than yellow how did he not know that?????

how dare he try to justify his actions with such a rubbish excuse?!?!?!

but soon enough you forgive him

but after a lot of convincing from felix's side

he had promised to stay away from your barbie coloring book as well as to never tease you again about that one time you accidentally farted in front of him

you grew up together until you found yourselves in high school

changbin had moved from your neighborhood and was studying in a different school, however he was still in the same city, so you kept in contact on your free time

after puberty had hit you, felix had became rather popular among other kids

you on the other hand, never really mastered the art of getting new friends as you were pretty awkward around new people

besides, you were fine with just changbin, felix and the girl from your neighbor, dahyun

and you were acquainted with some of felix's friends like hwang hyunjin, kim seungmin and han jisung

overall you were pretty satisfied with your high school life

your school success was going well and you had no trouble with anyone

until one day

your school had already ended for the day and you had stayed in the school library to finish off some assignments when a couple jerks entered the space

you didn't know their names, but they were fairly known to be those typical asshole jocks who didn't give a rats ass about their school success

you rolled your eyes as they entered, laughing rather loudly

you ignored them, but couldn't help but get distracted when they noticed you there, whispered something to each other and then approached you

"hey nerd! help us with our assignments"

you sternly kept your eyes on the book lied open on the table, not paying attention to them

"i said hey!" one of them repeated and slammed his hand on the table, making you flinch in surprise

"what. do. you. want." you asked them in an annoyed tone

"you're that nerd who finishes her assignments weeks before due. do ours or give us yours." he demanded

you squinted your eyes

"get out of my sight" you sighed nonchalantly and went back to your book

"i think the fuck not! minho, grab her paper!"

much to their surprise your reflexes were faster

the boy, minho, reached for your assignment paper, but you pulled it away just in time

"you're going to regret that!"

the boy lunged at your paper but you quickly dodged him, standing up and grabbing your stuff quickly from the table, before sprinting off

"get her!" you could hear them yell as loud footsteps started following you

and the very first reflex on your mind was to find felix

and fortunately you had a pretty good idea where he was

so you ran towards the music classroom where you knew he liked to spent time after school, especially on days when you stayed to study in the library

he liked to stay behind and practice anything from dancing to singing, to playing instruments

and often the two of you would meet up at the lockers once you were done and walk home together

you often even ended early and went to find him practicing rapping

he'd get embarrassed you had caught him but he'd let you stay and listen to his melodic voice work it's magic, giving him feedback and encouraging words

so you turned the corner to the hallway where the classroom was located

and luck seemed to be on your side when you immediately came face to face with the freckled boy, who was on his way to inspect where all the noise was coming from

you quickly ran behind his back, grabbing his shoulders from behind and peeking at his face

at first his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not used to seeing you hide behind his back all of a sudden

the two jerks soon caught up and came to a halt when they saw you now had company

felix immediately came to the realization of the situation; you were running from them

his face turned angry, obviously they had done something to make you act this way

and without hesitation, he growled in a low voice

"leave her alone. i never want to see you near her again."

the boys looked at each other, clearly intimidated by his low voice and sharp expression

they decided they valued their lives as they nodded, too scared to open their mouths and quickly fled the scene

as soon as they were gone, you let go of his shoulders and he turned to properly face you

in a second his eyes turned soft and his expression became worried, taking a hold of your hands and staring deeply into your eyes

"are you okay?"

you nodded, giving him a thankful smile

"yeah. they just tried to steal my assignment." you quickly assured him

felix rolled his eyes and shook his head

"how predictable. i'll make sure they won't bother you again."

he smiled and ruffled your hair, making you snort as you pushed his hand away

"thanks lix."

you would never admit it to his face

but that was the first time you acknowledged he made your heart beat fast and butterflies erupt in your stomach

what had lee felix done to you?

a few years later you found yourselves attending the same college

even better yet, even seo changbin had also stumbled upon the same facility

the three of you were together again, reunited and as close as ever

there wasn't a single thing you kept hidden from these boys

well

except for one minor thing

you were madly in love with lee felix

you had no idea how it had happened or when

but you remember the day you realized it

or rather, the night

you had woken up from a nightmare, sweating and panting, body shaking as you took in your surroundings

suddenly afraid of the dark, you turned on your bedside lamp and reached for your phone

before you even realized what your hands were doing, you were dialing a phone number and pressing the device against your ear

and soon enough, a low groggy voice answered the phone

"y/n?"

"felix."

the shakiness in your voice made felix sit up on his bed

you could hear it from the shuffling of sheets through the phone

"y/n what's wrong?"

"i- i had a really bad nightmare. you left me."

"i'm on my way. leave your window open."

before you could reply to him he had already hung up the phone

you quickly got up and rushed to your window, unlocking the clasp so felix could climb in like he always did when your parents were asleep

and not two minutes had passed as you saw his figure running to the ladder right below your window, climbing it up

as soon as his feet were on your floor, you threw your body in his arms

he barely had any time to react, but fortunately he caught you and wrapped his own arms around your small shaky frame

"you'll never leave me, right?" you basically cried to his chest, squeezing the material of his t-shirt between your fingers

"never. i promise." he whispered soothingly to your ear, his hand coming up to brush your hair

that night you had fallen asleep in his arms, listening to his soft breaths and staring at his peaceful sleeping face

but not before your hand had gently caressed his soft cheek, thumb running over his freckles and thought "dammit. i'm in love with my best friend"

so freshman year of college ahead of you and two of your best friends friends beside you, you looked forward to sleepless nights full of studying and all the new aspects that college life had to offer to you

you were expecting to have those two boys by your side throughout the whole experience, but things suddenly changed when changbin found himself a girlfriend

not just any girlfriend, but your childhood best friend dahyun

he began spending more time with her than the two of you, which you should have seen coming, after all, he was head over heels for her

you knew felix had also noticed his absence, but none of you ever brought up the topic

even more strange than not having changbin around at all times, was how the air changed between you and felix when you spent time together

it was almost... awkward

there was this tension between the two of you

you didn't know why, but for some reason felix was unable to look you in the eyes at times

you blamed it on the stress from college and all of these new things happening around you

sometimes you even thought "maybe he's in love with changbin and is jealous", but you'd smile at the thought

you knew felix loved his hyung, but not in a romantic way, although it might have looked different to an outsider

but because felix was acting strange around you, you started to feel awkward around him as well

this kept going on to the point felix was actually avoiding you

and that's when you finally realized you were all alone

2/3 of your friends were dating and the last one was doing his best to avoid you

so one day you got fed up with being alone

and you called seo changbin at 11pm, demanding to meet him at the local diner

you sat down at a corner booth, a strawberry ice cream in front of your face

you shoved spoonfuls into your mouth almost aggressively as you waited for the boy to arrive

he was always late so you were expecting to finish eating the ice cream before he'd appear

but much to your surprise, you only made it to three spoonfuls before he sat down across from you

"you actually made it"

"well i was awake anyway and you sounded angry"

"that's because i am >:("

you basically scolded changbin for forgetting about his best friends

he only nodded along, aware of what he had done and felt guilty about it

"i've known dahyun longer than you have so i understand she's incredible but i'm sure she would understand if you also spent some time with your equally incredible best friends. it's getting really lonely you know especially after felix started avoiding me and i-"

"wait- felix is avoiding you???"

"that's what i said"

"why is he avoiding you?"

"the hell would i know?"

you'd stare at changbin with your eyebrows furrowed as he combed his fingers through his invisible beard, clearly in thought

"well he was always a bit of a pussy"

"what does that mean? like he's suddenly scared of spending time with me after we've been besties for years?"

changbin snorted at your last question, diverting his eyes to the window and trying to hide his grin

but if course you would see it

"what's funny?"

"n-nothing"

"boi i can see your shit eating grin. spill before i have to bite your arm again”

"lol are you dense?"

"what?"

changbin snickered, obviously knowing something you didn't

something about his antics reminded you of the 5-7 year old changbin the bully, which he hadn't been for years

well, except for now

you considered having secrets from your best friend bullying (although you had a secret of your own too)

"changbin." you demanded

"y/n. you should talk to felix. he has something he should tell you. if he denies it, tell him if he doesn't tell you i'm going to"

you gave him a face of disgust

"what's with this 2nd grade theme? why are you suddenly changbin the bully again?"

instead of answering your question, the boy stood up

"i'll hang with you once you get this sorted out. let me know when it's done"

"now it sounds like you ordered me to murder someone"

winking at you, changbin slid out of the booth and walked straight out of the place, waving at you once he was outside

you stared at him in utter confusion as his figure disappeared into the darkness of the night

if you said you slept well that night you'd be lying

all you could think about was "what on earth does felix have to tell me?"

was he sick?

was he dying?

was he dating?

your pessimistic ass could only come up with the worst scenarios, leaving you worrying and anxious

the next morning you woke up two hours after falling asleep

since you and felix no longer walked to school together, you decided to text him and let him know you wanted to talk

usually it didn't take him more than 5 minutes to respond

but this time you had already made it through your lectures and there was still no response

you had seen glimpses of his ginger hair around campus but he was always too far away for you to reach him

"how the hell am i supposed to talk to him when i can't even get a hold of him?" you thought

you had even seen changbin and dahyun, hanging out together like they always did

they had asked you if you had talked to felix yet and you had said no, he wasn't replying to your texts

slowly the students started leaving the building and like old times, you stayed behind to study in the library

this time you only felt more distracted than before, checking your phone every few minutes to see if a certain asshole had decided to reply

but to no avail

you had to admit, you were hurt

it felt like a spear going through your heart

at first you had been angry at both of the boys for ignoring you, but now you were just hurting

it seemed like it was getting worse every passing second, like you had underestimated just how much felix was ignoring you

after about 40 minutes of trying to study, you gave up and slammed your books shut

you actually got kind of a dumb idea and stood up

you headed towards the music class

you knew it was dumb, felix hadn't been going there during college at all

or at least he didn't tell you he was going

but something inside you told you to go and you did

and there you were, standing behind the closed door of the music room, listening to someone play the piano

you couldn't tell who it was, for all you knew it could have been just a teacher

nevertheless you knocked on the door

the sound of the piano stopped and you could hear someone walking over to the door

they stopped right at the door and hesitated

but eventually twisted the lock to open the door

and you came face to face with the boy you loved

suddenly it felt like you were 5 years old again

you on the ground playing with snow and felix approached you

you felt that same anger again, he had hurt you by ignoring you for so long

yet when his eyes focused on yours, a small pout could be seen on his face

he felt guilty for destroying your snowman

"can i come in?" you broke the silence

felix nodded, stepping aside to let you in

you sat down on a chair at a table as felix found his seat back in front of the piano

you decided to go for a friendly approach

"what have you been up to?"

felix skimmed his fingers over the keys of the grand piano

"just been practicing piano a lot"

"i see"

"what have you been up to?"

"well you know, nothing since i don't have friends anymore"

you knew it was a low blow to go for that guilt trip, but you were still angry

felix's head sank and his eyes trained to the floor

"i'm a jerk, aren't i?"

you nodded your head yes as you played with your fingers in anticipation

"i know this won't probably help a lot, but i'm sorry."

"felix, why?"

"i don't know"

"yes, you do. changbin said you have something to tell me."

his head popped up at your statement, his eyes wide like a deer caught up in headlights

"what did he say to you?"

"nothing much. just that you had something to tell me and i assumed it has something to do with you ignoring me"

his jaw tensed as he contemplated his next move

he was clearly uncomfortable and nervous and you started to doubt your decision on pushing him on to talk to you

when he didn't say anything, you let out a sigh and stood up, walking over to him

you carefully sat down next to him on the wide piano stool, trying to see if he was going to move away

once you were sure he didn't mind, you let yourself scoot a little closer, so that your thighs were barely touching

"why are you being so distant?" you asked in a softer tone

he gulped and wet his lips before answering

"because i'm afraid i'm in love with you." he almost whispered in a raspy voice

your heart felt like it stopped beating for a second, but more than that you were even more confused

"then why did you ignore me? why didn't you just tell me before?"

"because i didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. when changbin stopped hanging out with us i felt like i was making you feel uncomfortable. i thought maybe if i avoided you my feelings would go away, but they didn’t. we're best friends so i didn't want my stupid feelings to ruin our friendship."

"your feelings aren't stupid, felix."

"well yes they are. i ended up hurting you."

"no you dummy. hear me out."

you gently cupped his cheek and stared at him lovingly in the eyes

"i'm in love with you too"

for a few seconds felix stared at you in disbelief, but you didn't break eye contact for a millisecond

once he found it in himself to believe your words he leaned forward almost too fast

your lips crashed together and his hands flew to support your body

it took you a moment to realize what was happening but you quickly responded to the kiss, not wanting to leave him any doubts

it was sweet yet eager, he was kissing you like he needed it to survive and it made the butterflies in your stomach explode into fireworks

what felt like after hours, felix pulled back, breathless but leaned his forehead against yours

his hands still held your body close to his and your own hadn't left his cheeks

although your eyes were closed, you felt felix smile

"so you're saying i ignored you for nothing?"

"basically. we're both quite dense, aren't we? changbin called me that."

"it seems like he was right for once"

and with that you pressed your lips back to his in a quick kiss

"i love you y/n"

"i love you more, felix"

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