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churchofthesluttyknee · 6 months

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A Series of Firsts

Author(s): A collaboration amongst smutty parishioners of The Church of the Slutty Knee

Pairing(s): Pedro x Oscar

Rating: E18+ MDNI

Word Count: pending

Series Warnings: explicit sexual content, including, but not limited to BDSM, choking, anal, oral, masturbation (self/mutual), toys, public sex

Chapter Summary: Pedro and Oscar discuss consensual power dynamics and safety. Oscar gives Pedro his first lesson.Takes place the day after chapter 3 concludes.

Notes: I know “cool slutty daddy” didn’t happen until 2023, and that Ash Crossan didn’t become an entertainment correspondent until 2022, so I’m taking some liberties (as if this whole story isn’t full of them 🤣)

Tag line: “Have you ever craved it? Craved it so badly… that it hurts?”

Chapter 4 - First Lesson

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[Pedro narrates]: Al descubrirme totalmente entregado de cuerpo y alma a esta conexión, surge un nivel de confianza y complicidad que nunca habíamos experimentado. Nuestras miradas se encuentran, comunicando el ardiente deseo de olvidarse del mundo afuera, y solamente sumergirme en tus ojos inebriantes. Tus besos sellan este momento. No quiero que te vayas.

Upon discovering that my body and soul are totally devoted to this connection, there’s a level of trust and complicity that we never experienced before. Our gazes meet, communicating the burning desire to forget the world outside, and only dive into your inebriating eyes. Your kisses seal this moment. I don’t want you to leave.

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ACT I: Toast and Coffee

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Oscar stands in Pedro’s kitchen cooking lunch. Several pans are on hot burners and a delicious aroma fills the kitchen/living room area.

Oscar hums ‘Tuyo’ as he stirs boiling noodles in one pot and adds spices to a sauce in another. Just as he starts to strain the noodles Pedro pads into the living room wearing a pair of black boxer briefs and nothing else. His bed hair points in all directions. He yawns loudly and stretches his arms above his head.

Checking his watch, Oscar sees it’s a few minutes before noon.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day,” Oscar says cheerfully.

“How long have I been asleep?” Pedro asks as he stretches again.

“About ten hours, give or take. I guess I finally tired you out,” Oscar says with a sly grin as he begins to plate their lunch. “Did you want to eat inside or outside? It’s late enough that the sun is out and it's another beautiful LA day.”

“Let’s eat outside. I’ll show you the castle I told you about the other night.”

They take their plates, laden with a robust spaghetti in red sauce, out to the balcony.

A soft breeze blows and birds chirp cheerfully. As promised, Pedro points out the castle down the hill. They eat in a comfortable silence, savoring their meals, sipping on Casillero del Diablo. When they do speak the conversation is light and casual.

“About yesterday…" Oscar begins softly. "I’m so incredibly sorry if I hurt or scared you. That was not my intention at all,” he says, maintaining steady eye contact.

“My neck is still a little sore, but you didn’t hurt me. You just caught me off guard. Up to that second, everything had been so… sweet. When I found myself… pinned… to the shower wall, it was… well, it was hot, don't get me wrong. I love your passion. But it was also a bit sudden. I know I should have said something, but…”

“Mi Pedrito, mi tigre, mi amor… I dropped the ball on this, and I’m sorry. I should have been paying closer attention. The second you got on your knees, those sexy, slutty knees, I knew the dynamic of our relationship was changing. It was my responsibility to help you navigate that, and make sure I knew your limits. I know we said we were gonna talk about it when I got back last night, but seeing you lying naked in bed… I couldn’t help myself. But today this conversation is a top priority."

"Oh I know, I have been totally wrapped up in you myself. I don't blame you for getting carried away. I just want to try to do this right. It's all so new."

"It's something I've explored before, so let me guide you. Have you given any more thought to your safe words? I believe we decided that three would be a good starting point. Green, yellow and red.”

“I have! I know it’ll probably sound silly, but…” he laughs, then continues, “since we’ve both been dubbed ‘Space Daddies’, what if our words were astronomy related?” he asks enthusiastically.

“I like that. Did you have anything in particular in mind?”

“For green I think ‘moonlight’ would be good, because I’ve always felt safe in the moonlight. For yellow, I was thinking ‘starlight’, because sometimes stars look like they’re blinking, like caution lights. And for red, I was thinking ‘nova’, because it sounds like ‘no veh’, you know, no-go? But also because it’s an explosion, and things tend to stop pretty fast when they’ve exploded." Pedro laughs joyfully at his own joke.

“That they do, Pedrito, that they do,” Oscar says, his heart full and happy seeing Pedro back to his usual, goofy self. “I think those are excellent, mi vida. Let’s keep talking inside while I clean up the mess I’ve made in your kitchen,” he says, kissing Pedro tenderly on the forehead.

Collecting their empty dishes they go inside to clean up the kitchen. Pedro collects the cookware from the stove and stacks it neatly beside the sink. Oscar runs hot water and begins rinsing. Pedro wipes down the stove and surrounding countertops. Once he’s done all he can do, Pedro sits on a bar stool, facing Oscar, who is still rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher.

“So… you mentioned yesterday wanting to do ‘truly depraved and brutal things with me…" Pedro begins, watching Oscar intently. “What sort of things do you imagine doing with me… to me?” he asks, his voice equal parts excited and timid.

Oscar smiles at Pedro and flicks water at him as he rinses the final dish.

“Well, since we’ve only just begun to explore our desires, let’s start off slow. What do you think about only being able to cum when I say you can?”

Pedro tilts his head slightly, considering what Oscar is asking him.

“You mean, like we did earlier, where you tell me to touch myself and to slow down so I don’t cum too fast?”

“Hmm, something like that. But let’s take it a step further. You can only touch yourself when I say you can, whether I'm here or not. And when I say you can touch yourself, know that I’m not giving you permission to cum. I might let you get close, so very close…” Oscar licks his lips at the thought of Pedro being desperate for release. “But until I give you permission, you’re not allowed to cum. And if you do… well, disobedience comes with punishment.”

“What… what sort of punishment?” Pedro asks, his eyebrows arching in fascinated curiosity.

“That’s something we’ll have to figure out together. What sort of punishment do you think you’d deserve for disobeying me, mi tigre?” he asks with a salacious grin.

Pedro bites his lip. “Well… since you’re talking about permissions, I suppose a fitting punishment for disobedience in this case would be not letting me cum at all?” he responds softly, looking at Oscar with a sad puppy expression, brows knitted together.

“If the disobedience continues, yes, that does seem a fitting punishment. Or perhaps I’ll overstimulate you, make you beg me to stop. You’ll be begging either way. Both sound equally delicious,” Oscar says, his smile devious.

Pedro’s eyes widen in shock. He’d never considered overstimulation before.

“But before it gets that far, you’ll be given warnings. The first warning may be verbal, but could also be something light, like a slap. I know you don’t really like harsh physical pain, so I’d never strike you hard… unless you wanted me to. But I think an open palm slap across the face, or on your ass, would be within your tolerance?”

“I think that would be ok. I definitely enjoyed it when you slapped my ass last night. As for my tolerance, I guess we’ll just have to discover it together.” A mischievous smirk tugs at his lips. “What other things did you want to do with me? Would these things be restricted to certain areas, like our homes? Or would we do stuff in public? Like… with the chance of being caught? The possibility of being caught… that… that actually sounds kind of exciting.”

“Oh, that turns you on, does it?” Oscar rubs his chin, contemplating the delightfully devious things he could make Pedro do while in the company of others.

“Yeah. My adrenaline always surges when the stakes are higher.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Speaking of public places, you’re going to the premier at the Dolby this evening, right?”

“Yeah, gotta support our fellow Space Sister, Diego!” Pedro replies enthusiastically.

“Space Sisters! I don’t know exactly where that name came from, but I love it! Did you want to go together in a ‘strictly platonic friends’ kind of way?”

“Yeah, that’s probably best. But maybe… we can fool around in the theater once the lights go down?” Pedro asks, winking playfully.

“Mi Pedrito travieso! What’s gotten into you? Have I awoken some sort of dormant beast in you?”

Pedro dismounts his stool as Oscar wipes down the counter a final time. Putting his arms around Oscar’s waist, Pedro nibbles Oscar’s earlobe.

“Si, papi,” Pedro purrs softly in Oscar’s ear.

Oscar shivers as the heat of Pedro’s breath causes a chill to run down his spine.

“Speaking of Space Sisters… Moon Knight and Din Djarin, who do you think would win in a fight?” Pedro asks cheerfully, resting his head on Oscar’s shoulder.

“Moon Knight, hands down! He’s got the power of Khonshu when he’s in his suit. No way Mando’s gonna beat that!”

“Excuse me, but Mando has a full suit of beskar! It’s impervious to everything. What’s Steven got? A mummy suit?” Pedro scoffs, laughing loudly and slaps Oscar’s shoulder.

Turning to face Pedro, Oscar says “Oh, you cheeky little minx. We’ve not even fully laid out the rules of play and you’re already begging for punishment. And I know just the thing. While you were sleeping I went into town and did a little shopping. Bring me the bag by the sofa and I’ll show you what I got,” Oscar says excitedly.

Pedro spots the bag by the sofa and brings it to the bar, handing it to Oscar, who is now sitting on a stool.

“It’s heavy. What’s in it?” Pedro asks, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Oscar rummages around in the bag, placing miscellaneous articles of clothing, rope and some industrial looking straps, onto the bar before finally pulling out a thin box. Pedro sits on the next stool, watching as the pile of mysteries grows. Pedro’s eyebrow arches as he tries to figure out exactly what he’s looking at on the bar and in Oscar’s hand. Oscar opens the box and pulls out a sleek black device with a ring attached. He also palms a small remote control.

“Uh… what the fuck is that Oscar?” Pedro asks, eyes wide, voice slightly raised.

“This, mi tigre, this is going to be your undoing. It’s a prostate massager with flexible teasers and internal warming. It’s remote controlled. That way, when you need… behavior modification, I can make adjustments discreetly. Let’s go try it on.”

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ACT II: The Test

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A few hours later Pedro and Oscar are in Pedro’s bedroom getting ready to head to the Dolby Theatre. Pedro stands in front of a full length mirror wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt and black boxer briefs. Oscar is dressed in a similar dress shirt and dress pants. Oscar buttons Pedro’s shirt while Pedro works on Oscar’s bow tie.

“Are you sure it feels ok? It’s not uncomfortable or poking anywhere it shouldn’t?” Oscar asks, his tone caring, full of concern.

“No, it’s fine. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as you do, but it’s still a pleasant sensation.”

“Want to test it out real quick, make sure everything is where it needs to be? Wouldn’t want to find out something’s wrong on the carpet.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Just keep it on low. I don’t want to become a Lonely Island song cliché,” Pedro quips with a smirk.

Oscar stifles a laugh and presses the power button. A Cheshire Cat grin manifests as Pedro’s breath catches and he moans softly. When Oscar doesn’t immediately turn the device off Pedro looks at him expectantly.

“Really? You’re gonna keep it turned on?” Pedro responds in a bratty tone, arching his eyebrow.

“Let’s test the range. I need to see how far away I can be and still have this thing function,” Oscar responds, ignoring Pedro’s sass for the time being.

Oscar steps out of Pedro’s bedroom and walks down the hallway. Every few feet he hits the up button and grins when he hears Pedro moan loudly. On his way back to the bedroom he can hear that Pedro’s moaning has softened, but comes in ragged gasps.

“I guess it’s got a pretty decent range, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to have to change, you need to turn that off, right now. I’m seriously going to cum any second,” Pedro pants, his tone a bit more commanding than he’d intended.

Oscar glares at Pedro for several seconds, maintaining unwavering eye contact, letting Pedro know that he overstepped by making demands. He finally switches the toy off, and Pedro sighs in relief when the silicone inside him stops vibrating.

"Did you just tell me what I NEED to do?" he says with a soft, menacing tone, eyes dark.

"Yep. And you did it, didn't you?" Pedro replies in a casually triumphant way, pursing his lips in a smirk.

"Testing me already? Tsk tsk tsk," Oscar clicks his tongue in disapproval, his harsh glare turning into a smirk of his own, which somehow makes him look even more threatening.

Stepping closer, invading Pedro’s personal space, Oscar wraps his right hand possessively around Pedro's straining erection. Oscar's other hand moves behind Pedro's hips to find the base of the toy, placed perfectly between his cheeks. Oscar pushes the toy into him in tiny pulses, each micro-movement causing Pedro to gasp. Oscar's right hand moves down to cup his balls firmly but not painfully.

"WHEN are you going to cum?" Oscar growls in his ear.

Pedro whimpers, "Please… I… oh my god," he barely manages between gasps.

"When?" Oscar demands, the grip of his right hand tightening slightly, just on the verge of becoming painful.

All trace of sass gone now, Pedro feels every part of his body electrified and aching with tension and excitement.

"When... when you give me permission, Daddy," Pedro pants.

"That’s my good boy. Don't forget," he warns, releasing Pedro from his grip. Pedro slumps in a combination of relief and longing for more. He can tell he’s in for a long evening.

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ACT III: The Denial

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Thirty minutes later they’re getting out of the studios private car in front of the Dolby Theater. A flurry of flashes momentarily blind them as they start walking towards the staging area near the start of the famous red carpet. They find Diego, exchange hugs, then get in line to walk down the long line of press. At each of the press stations, just as the interviewer is asking Pedro about his upcoming projects, Oscar hits the button on the remote nestled in his pocket. As the line progresses the intensity of the vibrations changes, up, down, never remaining consistent. Oscar delights when Pedro gasps just as he’s about to answer each reporter. The last reporter in line, their favorite, is Ash. Ash, the reporter who would eventually help birth Pedro’s title of “Cool Slutty Daddy” into the world. Oscar knows Pedro absolutely relishes the playful title and casual flirtation, but tries to play it down on Disney red carpets. That just isn’t a very Disney thing to talk about at one of the House of Mouse events.

Ash: “So Pedro, are you excited to see Diego in a Star Wars role?”

“Absolutely! I’m always happy to support a fellow…” He’s cut short as Oscar hits the button, increasing the frequency of vibrations of their new toy. Pedro coughs to cover the gasp. “Latino Space Sister!” he finishes quickly. Ash raises her eyebrow, silently asking if he’s ok. Pedro shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, urging her to continue.

Pedro answers a few more of Ash’s questions before being led off by Oscar into the venue. As other attendees are taking their seats Pedro notices that Oscar keeps glancing over his shoulder.

“What are you looking for, Oscar?” Pedro asks, trying to find where Oscar’s gaze keeps being drawn.

“I’m keeping an eye on the balcony. It looks like it’s closed off for the event. Once the lights go down I’m going to go up there and make sure it’s empty. I’ll text you when it’s all clear.”

Pedro nods and they both chit chat with other celebrities sitting around them as they wait. After about fifteen minutes the lights begin to dim and the theater goes dark. Another five minutes later Oscar taps Pedro’s hand and points up, indicating he’s going to check on the balcony situation. A few minutes later Pedro’s phone buzzes.

Pedro exits the auditorium, turns right, enters the first door on the right and mounts the stairs to the balcony. The path is lit by tiny running lights on either side of the steps. After a few moments Pedro finally sees light from the screen below. Oscar is sitting at the edge of the balcony, arms hanging over the rails, watching Diego tower over the audience on the projection screen.

“Hey,” Pedro says softly as he takes a seat next to Oscar.

Oscar turns to face him, cups Pedro’s face in his hands, and kisses him greedily. During the kiss Oscar presses the power button on the remote. Pedro moans into Oscar’s mouth as the sensation rocks him. Oscar gets up from his chair and stands before Pedro, his silhouette blocking the screen. Oscar places his left foot against the inside of Pedro’s right foot, and with his right he forces Pedro’s legs apart.

Oscar gazes into Pedro’s eyes as he works to undo Pedro’s belt buckle. Oscar can see Pedro’s eyes grow dark with desire as he works on the button and zipper. Pedro lifts his hips as Oscar moves to pull his pants and boxers down. A devilish grin spreading across his face, Oscar presses the up button on the remote in his pocket. Pedro gasps audibly. Crouching before him, Oscar grips Pedro’s shaft possessively and begins to stroke him slowly. After a few moments Pedro is gripping the arms of his seat, breathing heavily. With each moan Oscar changes his pace. Faster, slower, faster. He presses another button on the remote and Pedro groans in delight as the device he’s been fitted with begins to get warm.

“Fuck…” Pedro grunts hoarsely.

“Are you close, mi tigre?” Oscar asks.

“Yes, Daddy, I’m so fucking close. Can I cum, Daddy? Daddy, please?

“No, mi tigre, you cannot,” Oscar purrs.

Oscar gets up off his haunches, sits down beside Pedro, and turns off the device. His demeanor edging on boredom. Pedro whimpers at the loss of Oscar’s hand on his now throbbing, aching cock, and the loss of heat and vibration from the device embedded inside him. Pedro moves his hand to stroke himself to finish. Oscar slaps it away.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear before,” Oscar says in a velvety tone. “I said you CANNOT touch yourself without my permission. And I do NOT give you permission to touch yourself, nor do I give you permission to cum, mi osito.” Oscar smiles sweetly at his pet.

Pedro whimpers again and moves to pull up his pants. Oscar reaches a gentle hand out to stop him. Pedro looks at him with glistening, sad eyes, which glint in the light from the screen below. Oscar just shakes his head, not looking at Pedro for more than a few seconds. When Pedro puts his hands on the armrests again he starts stroking them absentmindedly. Oscar places his left hand over Pedro’s right and gently strokes his fingers, letting his own trace over and move between Pedro’s restless fingers. Several minutes later, when he sees that Pedro has calmed down, and is no longer breathing heavily, Oscar reaches over and begins to stroke Pedro again. He’s almost instantly hard at Oscar’s touch. Moving deliriously slow, Oscar brings Pedro to the brink again, then stops, occasionally employing the prostate massager. This continues in 30 minute increments for the duration of the premier. Luckily for Pedro the screening is not longer than two hours. As the credits start to roll Oscar tells Pedro to make himself presentable because they have to be social before he can take Pedro home.

Pedro inhales sharply. “Please, Daddy. I’ve never been so desperate…” he moans, “as I am right now.”

Oscar moans softly in response. “You don’t know desperate yet, darling,” Oscar purrs softly.

“I’m so fucking horny, Daddy. Will you please let me cum when we get home?” Pedro asks softly. “Please?” he begs, barely above a whisper, desperation evident in his voice.

“Yes, mi osito, I’ll let you cum when we get home. If you behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

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ACT IV: The Release

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Oscar stands in front of the glass walls in Pedro’s bedroom, staring out over the twinkling city, as he removes his clothes. He turns around to face Pedro, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, awaiting instruction, looking a little nervous. Oscar crosses the room, takes Pedro’s hands, and pulls him to his feet. He begins to slowly undress Pedro.

“Do you remember the words, mi tigre?” Oscar asks, making direct eye contact with Pedro, his expression serious. He unbuttons Pedro’s shirt, shrugs it over his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor with his own. Pedro’s pants and boxer briefs soon join the pile.

“Yeah, I remember,” he nods and looks away, slightly embarrassed.

“Look at me. Say them. Tell me what they are. I want to be absolutely certain you understand before we start.” Oscar cups Pedro’s chin and gently turns his head so that Pedro has to look at him.

“Green is ‘moonlight’, yellow is ‘starlight’ and red is ‘nova’,” he responds, maintaining eye contact this time.

“Good. I don’t want you to forget once we get started. Use them if you need them, but don’t feel like you have to say them just to say them. Now, lie down in the middle of the bed and get comfortable… we’re gonna be here for a while,” he says, a mischievous smile slowly emerging.

Pedro does as instructed, propping himself up with a stack of pillows so that he’s reclining slightly. Oscar climbs onto the bed and straddles Pedro’s hips, sitting on his thighs.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Not quite like this, no. I’ve changed pace before, but never prolonged it more than a few minutes. How… how long do you plan to stretch it out?” he asks, his brows knitting with concern.

“Until I feel like you’ve earned it. I’m going to stroke this beautiful cock of yours until you’re begging me to let you cum, mi Pedrito travieso (my naughty Pedrito). And when I feel you’re sufficiently desperate for it… that’s when I’ll let you cum for me. There are only three very simple rules you have to follow once we start. One, you can only refer to me as “Daddy”. Two, no touching. This means no touching me, and absolutely no touching yourself. I don’t want to have to restrain you, mi tigre, but I will if necessary. Three, you’re going to have to show me, beg me, to let me know just how badly you want it. But, if I see you’re getting too eager, too close to disobeying me… I’ll have to stop until you’ve regained control over yourself. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Pedro responds obediently.

Oscar reaches down and firmly clasps Pedro in his fist, but doesn’t begin to stroke yet.

“Do you feel that? My hand on your delicious cock?”

Pedro nods and sighs heavily.

“Good. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels,” Oscar whispers as he begins pumping Pedro slowly.

“That...” Pedro moans. “that feels so good, Daddy,” Pedro says with a shiver.

Oscar doesn’t respond verbally; he just strokes languidly, agonizingly so. Pedro’s hips buck gently under Oscar’s weight, causing Oscar to stop, realizing Pedro is already so close to disobedience.

“Oh no, this just won’t do. I’ve barely touched you and you’ve already started to buck. You’ve still got to earn it baby. Now focus, or this will be agonizingly slow,” Oscar says.

Pedro nods and Oscar resumes his slow stroking. His free hand gently traces lines across Pedro’s chest, pinching his nipples. Pedro moans softly.

Pedro moans loudly, “Have you ever craved it? Craved it so badly…” he gasps, “that it hurts?”

“I just wanna hear you say it, Daddy. I wanna hear you say I have to”, he moans, “beg you,” his breath hitches and he gasps, “to let me cum.”

“If you want to cum… you’re gonna have to earn it, mi puta (my whore).”

“Please,” Pedro begs.

“Please. Please. Please.” Pedro sighs in frustration. “Daddy, please.”

“Daddy loves hearing you beg,” Oscar moans. “Hearing you sound sooo fucking DESPERATE to please me.”

“You promised,” Pedro responds in a soft voice.

“Please! Please! Please…” he begs desperately.

“No! Not yet,” Oscar responds, impatience creeping into his tone.

“Baby,” Pedro pleads plaintively.

Oscar slaps Pedro across the face. The sound reverberates in the quiet room.

“No me digas baby, mi pecadorcito. No recuerdo haber dicho que podías dejar de suplicar, (don’t call me baby, my little sinner. I don't remember saying that you could stop begging)” Oscar says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Perdóname, Papi (forgive me, Daddy),” Pedro apologizes.

“Parece que no lo quieres tanto, tampoco suenas desesperado (it seems that you don't want it so much, you don't sound desperate either).”

“Daddy, Please! I want… need… you to let me cum. You promised.”

“I said no.”

Pedro sighs again, his frustration growing. “Daddy, please. Fuck.”

“Oh my god…” Pedro gasps out of breath.

“Please, Daddy, you promised you’d let me cum this time,” Pedro laments.

“Fuck.”

“Let me cum, Daddy! I need it! I need it… so fucking badly,” Pedro pleads desperately.

“Fuck, please,” Pedro begs.

“Fuck… you promised. Ooooh…”

Oscar’s cock twitches at Pedro’s last gasp. Pedro stares at it with unbridled lust. Oscar moans and reaches for the lube. After quick, liberal application to himself and Pedro he slowly slides into Pedro’s tight ass. They both moan as he moves deeper. Oscar moves slowly, almost imperceptibly, while continuing to stroke Pedro’s cock.

“Please… baby,” he whispers softly.

Oscar smacks Pedro across the face again.

Pedro’s entire body shudders from the sudden, but expected, contact.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.”

“I’m gonna… oh fuck.”

“I said no,” Oscar says again, his tone more forceful.

“Fuck. I’m…” Pedro moans, “I’m—”

“We’re almost there baby, almost there…” Oscar says encouragingly.

Pedro moans desperately, barely able to breathe.

“You look sufficiently desperate now. Do you think you’ve earned it yet, mi puta?”

“Yes, yes, I’m…”

“Yes! Fuck yes… yes!” Pedro exclaims.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you beg,” Oscar says softly.

“Cum for me, Pedrito,” Oscar says, finally granting his pet the permission he’s been begging so long for.

“I’m…” Pedro begins, but as soon as his brain registers that he’s finally been given permission he’s been longing for, he cums hard, almost on demand. His body trembles from his orgasm and he moans loudly. The sheer force of his release expels the air from his lungs, rendering him unable to speak momentarily.

Oscar cums as Pedro rides the wave of his own orgasm.

“Fuck,�� Pedro sighs.

His body still trembling, Pedro says, “God, that was… fucking… incredible, Daddy. Thank you.”

#a series of firsts #asof #Latino space sisters #P&O #pedro pascal #space sisters #oscar isaac

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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years

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Payback's a Murder

Word Count: 2k Description: Mammon may be the Avatar of Greed and may constantly try to con his brothers, but others who try to do the same will find themselves at the wrong end of his murder. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to this, so here we go with Mammon's turn! Note: Mulciber is a demon mentioned in John Milton's Paradise Lost. He served under Mammon and was an architect. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, body horror, torture via the sharp ends of birds

The Avatar of Greed often found himself in trouble, whether it be because he stole personal belongings to sell or tried to cheat someone out of cash or … well, there were a lot of ways. Call him reckless, but when he saw an opportunity to make some cold, hard Grimm, he wasn’t about to pass it up!

But if someone tried to cheat him out of something? That wouldn’t do. Few dared to try it if they knew just who they were dealing with, but that didn’t stop some from trying anyway. They always regretted it afterwards.

The real issue, however, was if someone tried to cheat his brothers out of something. After all, he was the only one allowed to rip them off (that was his justification, anyway). The moment he finds out someone else tried to play confidence demon with any of them, it was a one-way ticket to the Great Mammon’s Beatdown Extravaganza.

He was walking by Leviathan’s room earlier when he heard a loud crash, some swearing, and a slight rumble under his feet. After some door breaking, tackling, and forcing his hotheaded brother to not summon Lotan, he found out what had made him so upset. Apparently, there was some demon running around with elaborate schemes swindling others -- well, nerds -- out of their money. He went on to explain something that Mammon did not at all understand -- as was usual when he got into his otaku rambling. If his brother had not been so upset, Mammon would have commended the guy for knowing how to target and hit a jackpot.

After some additional pestering, Mammon managed to get a rough description of this third-rate demon and realized he had a pretty good idea of just who it was. It was someone far closer to him than he’d like to admit.

So now here he was, leaning against the bar at one of the Devildom’s many clubs, drink in hand as he monitors the floor. If he was right, he would see the other cozening demon somewhere here tonight, so now it was just a waiting game. As Lucifer had told him repeatedly, You have to show that you’re Number Two. He planned to make that very clear tonight.

He felt the pulse of the bass vibrating through his body as the DJ amped up their music, more and more demons flowing into the space as the prime clubbing hours arrived. A few who noticed Mammon acknowledged his presence, some whispering about how he seemed to look way more serious than normal. The Avatar of Greed, not partying the night away already? Strange.

His patience was just about to run out when he caught a glimpse of just the demon he was seeking out. Hair as orange as a flame, he wasn’t too hard to spot amongst the crowd of more muted succubi surrounding him. Mammon downed the rest of his drink in one go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way to his target.

“Mulciber. Already getting started, huh?”

“M-Mammon?!” He seemed startled to see the other, but cleared his throat as he regained his cool composure. “It’s good to see you, man! Why don’t you join us all for a drink?” The succubi around him giggled, one daring to lean towards Mammon in an attempt to latch onto his arm, but he quickly placed a hand up to stop her.

“No touchin’, sweetheart.” He shot her a look that made her immediately back away, a pout on her lips. “And that’s a nice offer, Mulcey, but I was hopin’ I could talk to ya real quick in private.”

Mulciber could tell that no was not an option in this conversation, given the serious look in the Avatar’s eyes. “Oh, uh, sure. Sorry ladies, I’ll be back soon. Gotta take care of business!” He gave them a wink as they continued on to the table for their party. Clearing his throat again, he turned back to his superior. “So, what’s shaking, boss?”

Mammon just gave him a smile before nodding his head towards a side door, motioning to accompany him there. The lesser demon complied, following him outside to a side alley. The night air was brisk, causing a shudder to run through Mulciber’s spine. At least, he hoped it was the weather that was making him feel like this …

“I heard ya got up to another scheme.” Mammon fiddled with a lighter, flipping the top off and on with his thumb and a jerk of his hand as he spoke. Click, click, click, click. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, totally!” Mulciber nervously replied, wondering why Mammon seemed so interested. Did he want a cut of the check? Fishing for ideas for his own next get-rich-quick scheme? Or --

Oh.

Oh no.

He suddenly remembered that one of the victims of his scheming had been the very Avatar of Envy. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, delighting in the fact that he was even able to rip off a Greater Demon. Meant his plan had to be pretty genius, right? But now … now he was starting to realize that he may have just made a big mistake.

“Hm? Ya haven’t said a word, Mulcey-boy.” Mammon turned to face him, tucking the lighter into his pocket. He took a step towards the other, who immediately took a step back -- only to be met with a hard brick wall. “Or didja have a moment of realization?”

“L-Listen, Mammon, I’m sorry! I didn’t know at the time, I swear!” Mulciber brought both his hands up, as if that would stop the other from approaching him.

“Oh? ‘Cuz your face says differently, buddy.” He bared his fangs, the usual gradient in his eyes now glowing a furious gold. There’s a malicious grin on his face as he takes a step back, and then he begins to … whistle?

Mulciber does not like where this is going. He’s heard that tune before and it makes his hairs stand on end. “Look, man, please, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you!” There’s already desperation in his voice, which almost makes Mammon laugh.

“Glad to hear it. Then ya won’t have a problem with what’s about to happen next, yeah?”

It starts in the distance, a noise that made it feel as if your eardrums were being pierced by a thousand shards of glass. It grows louder and louder, closer and closer. An omen.

Mulciber shrinks against the wall, his grey eyes wide in fear. He knows running is pointless -- the other demon would quickly catch him, and leave him even worse for wear as repercussion. “P-please, Mammon, sir, don’t do this … “

“Didn’t you just say ya’d do whatever ya have to do?” Mammon shakes his head, his wings stretching out wide as if to entrap the lesser demon where he stood. “And you really think suddenly pullin’ out the formalities is gonna get ya any mercy here?”

The flapping of numerous wings now filled the air, a large murder of crows circling in the dark sky above. Their bone-chilling caws and cries rain down upon them as the birds eagerly await their master’s command.

Mammon lunged forward and grasped the other’s jaw, his claws digging into flesh as he brought his face threateningly close. “Pretty ballsy of you to think messin’ with any of us was the right move.” He growled, a rumble in his throat. “Looks like someone needs remindin’ of his place.”

“I-I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time! C’mon, you know how that is, don’t you? I was just thinking of making some big bucks, I didn’t mean to go and step out of line--” Mulciber frantically rambled, trying to ignore the searing pain he was feeling from Mammon’s grip.

“I’m sure that was the case, Mulcey, sure!” If it wasn’t for his mocking smile, the Avatar would have nearly sounded genuine. “But that doesn’t mean you can escape the consequences, ya’know?” He let out a tsk, watching as blood dripped from where he had pierced the other’s skin.

He let go of Mulciber, taking a few steps back as he shook his hand as if to clean it of the ichor. There was no denying the glee he was feeling from this -- it had been a while since he decided to flex his abilities and powers on another. Looking up to the sky, he whistled out another tune, causing the crows to descend.

“He’s all yours.” He commands them in a language only they could understand, and in a flash the black-feathered birds rush in to attack. Their squawks mix with Mulciber’s shrieks as they begin to peck at him with their beaks and scratch him with their claws. Mammon fishes out the lighter from his pocket once more, grabbing a cigarette from the box he had on him with his other hand. Leaning against the opposing alley wall, he lights up and takes a slow drag, watching as the flurry of feathers pulverize his inferior.

The crows tear at Mulciber’s flesh, their sharp beaks riddling his body with small cavities and painting him with his own blood. He continues to cry and scream, though it’s obvious he’s losing energy by the second as they grow weaker in intensity, his body slumping towards the ground. Perhaps he had learned his lesson? Surely, he’s just waiting for it all to stop now, right?

Mammon takes a glance around, humming in delight as he catches sight of a discarded iron pipe. He drops the remains of his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before retrieving his now makeshift weapon. It feels cool and light in his hand, and he gives it a small toss in the air before catching it again with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, alright. You all can leave him alone now.” Mammon commands his murder once more, followed by another whistle to let them know they could go back to doing whatever they were doing before now. One of them flew over to Mammon, perching on the metal rod in his hand, looking up at him with a puffed up chest in pride as blood stained its beak.

“Yes, who’s my good lil’ birdie?” Mammon cooed, scratching the crow under its chin. “Go get yerself cleaned up, okay?” It cawed in delight before flying off to join the rest, who were fading back into the dark night sky. The Avatar of Greed shook his head fondly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Mulciber lay crumpled on the ground, though was making efforts to sit upright as he gasped for breath. His body hurt all over, as if every inch of him had been pierced with needles. He feebly looked up to meet Mammon’s gaze, a whimper leaving him as he noticed the rod in his hand.

“What? I couldn’t let my birds have all the fun, now could I?” Mammon grasped the rod firmly in both hands before swinging it down with a deafening crack as it hit the other, who let out another sharp cry of pain.

“Hm, perhaps just another for good measure.” Whack. Another wail.

“Okay, okay. One more.” Whack. Another splatter of blood.

Content at the shuddering and sniveling mass that was left, Mammon kneeled down to get close to Mulciber’s ear, his next words full of menace. “Ya really should have stuck to the building business. Keep that in mind in the future, ‘kay?”

Mammon stood up and let the iron rod clatter to the ground, its hollowness ringing into the night. He made his way back inside to order another drink, ignoring the whispers and stares from the others in the club. It was doubtful that Mulciber would make an appearance here after what had happened for a while.

He knocked on the bar counter, getting the attention of the bartender. “Give me a glass of your finest whiskey. Put it on Mulciber’s tab.”

#obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me fics #demons being demons #series: a demon's nature #writings #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #a side of mammon I would like to see more <3

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kimnjss · 3 years

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no right answer | knj

⤑ series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: angst... nd that’s pretty much it :/

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 7.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: daddy jung makes an appearance... joon still doesn’t know how to communicate. yns feelings are hurt once again. they internally ramble a lot :/ and hoseok has a girlfriend.

⤑ chapter song: meet me in amsterdam - RINI

⤑ A/N: heyy! nothing much to say, sooo! enjoy nd let me know what you think x

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:10

The fact that you've shown up on Hyungwon's arm sets your father off way before you're entering the hall. You can tell by the pulsing of the vein above his brow, the grit in his teeth when you pass him, Hyungwon making a show of wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you inside before your father can get a word in.

Although, you're sure he'll find his opportunity at some point tonight.

Just as expected, gossip blog journalists, reports, the regular old press are all lining the front hall, waiting patiently for a word from the man who made this night possible. At least, that's the premise they're hiding under – it was more than obvious that they were silently hoping to witness something, anything that could be a headliner in the morning.

You do as you've been told, smile brightly at everyone that approaches, introduce Hyungwon as a close friend, chat up the new artists that your father's company plan to release in the upcoming months. Words flowing from your lips effortlessly, trained to dodge every prying question, every backhanded compliment. The practiced smile doesn't falter once.

Not even when the demanding flick of the fingers comes from your father across just a few feet away, behind his back of course, out of view from the woman reporter he's chatting with. Summoning you over silently, his first choice nowhere in sight. With a huff, you're politely ending the meaningless babble of the tag on your dress.

Hand pressed lightly to Hyungwon's chest, his arm doesn't drop from around you as the two of you make your way over to your father. Only making it halfway before he's shooing Hyungwon away, with the same discreetness he used to call you over. “I'll meet you inside,” You're mumbling with a roll of your eyes, easily able to guess that he's started his bullshit early.

Hesitant at first, but he's soon releasing you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head that has the cameras around flashing. Great. The apologetic look on his face washes the scowl from your features. His lips shifting into a sheepish smile while he reaches his hand up to ruffle your perfectly styled hair. That has questions flying from the crowd, demanding to know if the two of you were an item.

“I'll see you inside,” He says with a curt nod of his head, turning to finish his journey into the hall. On his way, he's swept up by a man with a million questions and a mic. No time to worry about that now, instead you take the place beside your father.

And he pulls this surprised expression as if he didn't expect you to just show up. “Oh, there she is! We've been talking about your new position. Would you like to chime in?” You wouldn't have been asked to 'chime in' if the appropriate response hadn't been hammered into your head on the way over here.

Practiced smile. “It's an honor to work so closely with such great artists. Their work is promising and truly inspiring. We have a lot of plans for them in the future that I'm sure will be nothing short of impressive...” You begin to drown yourself out, thoughtlessly speaking as your eyes wander around the room. Seemingly on their own accord until your sight is fixing on someone.

Okay, not just someone. Namjoon. He looks nice. Although, you can tell he's wearing the same suit that he had worn to Jungkook's release. Did he only have one nice suit? You'd have to make a note of that for... quite literally shaking the thought from your head, you're turning back into the conversation. Laughing at something you don't even find funny. All while stealing glances across the room, not being able to keep yourself from wondering if he was stealing glances too.

He was. Like really bad too. From the moment Joon had stepped into the building, his eyes were finding you. Guided by the loud chatter around you, looking in time to catch the gentle pat of your boyfriend's hand on your head. The way you seemed to melt at the simple touch, he could do that. He was sure of it.

And then he can't tear his gaze off you. While you pull that fake smile of yours, only half-listening to the words that are being said to you. Laughing flatly and leaning into your dad, keeping up with the perfect father/daughter image that he had no idea was an act until he was meeting you. Talking to you. Now it was obvious. Even from across the room, he could tell that you were faking.

That you'd much rather be anywhere else.

“Ah! There's my little prodigy,” Your father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, just in case they missed the dramatic cheers that echoed the moment he was stepping out of his car. Hoseok was here. A pretty redhead latched to his side, a sight that your father is surprised to see. He hated surprises.

Nevertheless, he's embracing your brother into a tight hug. Which to the press looks like an adorable father and son moment, but you know better. You've been on the receiving end of that hug before and judging from the frown that flashes over Hoseok's features, he's in trouble. But later, of course, there are millions of eyes watching right now – so the interview goes on with loud laughs and large smiles.

And for once, you're not the only one that's faking it.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:49

“Come sit, Yn. Dinner is about to be served,” He doesn't leave any room for argument with the tone that he uses and you find it funny that he thinks that you're not going to try. “No thanks, I'm going to sit with my date,” Hyungwon has found his place amongst the other artists of his status, chatting loosely with them as he waits for you.

A timed twitch of your father's brow, he'd usually rely on Hoseok's easy coaxing to get you to comply without making a scene. But that trick is out of commission. Sat close with his pretty girlfriend, flirting openly. Ooh, the look on your father's face when he was introducing her to reports as his girlfriend. Not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. 'Her? She's my girlfriend. Ti-lee. Isn't she gorgeous?'.

Didn't even spare a glance in your dad's direction, heart-shaped eyes saved for his girl. Expertly ignoring the subtle glares he was being sent whenever there was a chance. Your brother might be your hero. Seriously.

He's not about to beg you to come sit at the family table with him and Hoseok, that could risk giving away there is a reason why you wouldn't want to sit there in the first place. So instead, he's pushing a tight-lipped smile onto his lips, nodding his head before turning around. Exactly.

Hyungwon stands as you approach, pulling your chair out like a true gentleman. Leaning over to press his lips to your cheek and drop his arm around your shoulders, easily tucking you into his side. “How'd it go? Who's that with your brother?”

“His girlfriend. Can you believe it? Hoseok brought someone that wasn't approved and cleared by our dad first,” The shock in your tone matches the look on his face, which quickly melts into a smile.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips, his head shaking from side to side. “This isn't gonna end well,” His shoulders shake with his laughter, hands reaching to lift his glass. You giggle beside him, knowing all too well how right he is. Whether it was now or later, this was going to explode into a big mess. You were just glad you were in the clear for once.

Dinner starts.

Hoseok is between bites of his Wagyu steak when he's being hit with the dry monotone voice of the man beside him. A tone that he's not at all used to when he's being addressed by his father. It's usually reserved for you. “Where'd you find this girl?” He doesn't even bother to whisper, Ti-lee no doubt hearing him.

“I met her,” He feels it would be a bad idea to say that he met her at a party. Much less a release party held at the company. He knew all too well how his father felt about you mixing work and pleasure, he wasn't going down that lane.

Thankfully, he's not so much interested in the where, but more so the why. Mind reeling with all the upsetting outcomes that can come from this. Some random girl slipping in could potentially ruin everything he carefully constructed for his son's life. He knew first hand how vicious women can be when money's involved. “What does she do?”

“She's a model,” Hoseok's sweating, fumbling for the right string of words that can help him paint Ti-lee in an admirable light. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a great girl, all of the things you'd want your girlfriend to be. But his father's expectations were high, there was no telling what would be a deal-breaker.

He scoffs, head bowed to bring attention back to his plate in front of him. “That's not a real job,” He laughs to himself, head shaking in disbelief. There was no way his son would be so stupid... to think he could be with a model? The field that aged quickly, chewed up and spit out money-grabbing woman chasing youth. Nope, not his son. “We'll talk about this later,”

Putting an end to the conversation before Hoseok can get another word in. He's back to his meal, acting as if he hadn't shaken up his son's entire world. 'We'll talk about this later,'. Never was a good sign. Always met with an ultimatum when it came to you. He tries to act cool, be mindful of the millions of eyes watching at all times. But it's hard to hide the twinge of annoyance souring his face.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even get the chance to introduce Ti-lee properly, give his dad a chance to get to know her. Then he'd understand how easy it is to fall for her, Hoseok stood no chance when it came to her. And he didn't even get to say that, to show him why he just had to bring her around. Present her as his girlfriend, because he was so proud. So proud and his dad didn't even care.

It was not fair.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 20:17

As the night moves on, Joon finds himself searching for you through the crowd. His eyes find you all throughout dinner, half-listening to the chatter from Taehyung and Yoongi and watching you. Even when you move to dance, hand resting delicately over Hyungwon's bicep, so very clearly showcasing who you're here with tonight. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Left standing as more and more people spread around the hall, busying themselves with light conversation as the musicians play louder for the many people who have decided to move on to the dance floor. You're at the center of them all, smiling prettily up at your boyfriend. Laughing, a very real laugh that he didn't realize he missed until now.

God, he missed you so much. And it was worse because you were right there. Right in front of him, laughing and smiling and being yourself. But he felt like now for some reason, he couldn't be apart of that. That you didn't want him to be because he couldn't get it together. Because he couldn't say what was on his mind.

So, now he was stuck watching you. Admiring you from afar and wishing that it was him in the place of the man you brought tonight. Exclusively. All he wanted was to be yours exclusively. He knew that wouldn't happen so easily... or at all.

“You're actually staring, dude. What's with you?” Hoseok's voice is breaking through his thoughts, two glasses of brown liquor in hand. Hand outstretching in offering, Joon thanks him with a smile and a nod of his head.

Embarrassingly, pulling his gaze away. He knew he had been doing it but had no idea that it was that obvious. Had you noticed too? Caught him staring while he was so lost in his thoughts of you. Not likely. You hadn't looked his way at all tonight. He was sure of it. “She doesn't look so annoying, tonight.” His shoulders lift in a shrug, that has Hoseok's eyebrows raising.

The number of times he's complained to your brother about how much you bothered him.

Who would've thought this would be the outcome. At first, all he wanted was for you to leave him alone. Bottle up your crush and give him some space so he can concentrate on his work. On what was important and now... now he was dying for a chance to go back. Before things got complicated and he found it hard to say what was on his mind.

It used to be so easy to just tell you to leave him alone, to take part in the back and forth banter that he never really realized was just foreplay. Now, things were so strained and he was the cause of it. Because he had gotten in his own way, confused you and now you were pulling back. As you should.

What was he supposed to do, though? You were with someone, seemingly happy. The way you dealt with relationships and... love, was much different from what he was used to. And he was in no place to ask you to change that for him, just as he wouldn't want you to ask him to change for you.

So then what was left? Leaving each other alone, keeping his feelings bottled up because telling you would only make matters worse. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Thought it would be easy to just pick up and move on without a word, but after that night with you, he should've known there was no turning back. Being close to you like that, of course, he'd want more.

He's barely registering Hoseok's question beside him, between the sips of liquor. “What is she then?” You were a lot of things. Except his. Never realized how devastating that would be until recently. Until you weren't a constant anymore, because he messed up.

And seeing you tonight, in that dress. Legs peaking out with each bold step of your pretty heels. He's felt those legs, wrapped firmly around his waist and beneath his hands. Soft. And warm. A lot like you. How could he not look? When you were right there being everything he wanted, how could he not look?

“She's... kinda sexy.” Eyes widening at his own words, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “I don't know, it was just an observation,” He rushes out, a light tint taking over his cheeks.

Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to look up at the man beside him. It's funny, despite the height difference, Hoseok still maintains his intimidating aura. Could have anyone quivering with a single glance. Well, anyone would didn't know how sweet and gentle the guy really was. Still, he's got an image to upkeep. “Did you just call my sister sexy?”

Joon is amongst the select few that know the big and scary Jung Hoseok is not as big and scary as he likes to act. So he doesn't falter, much. “She is sexy. I mean, look at her.” He's gesturing to the dance floor, where you're being spun and dipped. “When did that happen? She's never...” Speaking mainly to himself, Joon's words trail off as he watches how good you look when you dance.

“Alright. I feel like I should tell you not to check out my sister right in front of me,” He had been joking at first, but the guy was basically drooling over you. Didn't know if he should provide a handkerchief or rip him a new one.

Joon's letting out a soft laugh, lifting his glass to take a sip from it. Attention shifting back to his friend. “You're twins. It's like I'm checking you out.”

This has Hoseok bursting into laughter, a look of disbelief taking over his features. “That does not make it any better!” Despite the warning, his eyes move to find you again. Only to find you're not where he had seen you last and your boyfriend was nowhere insight as you made your way over to where he stood.

A gasp is escaping from Joon's lips before he has a chance to mask it. “Oh God, shut up. She's walking over here,” His hand reaching to hit Hoseok's chest, signaling for him to straighten up as he does the same. “Quick. Pretend I said something funny,”

He's not granted the laughter that he expects, instead, a confused expression takes over Hoseok's features as his sister approaches. “Our father would like to speak with us upstairs,” You don't even spare a glance in Joon's direction.

“What for?” You shrug. Of course, you wouldn't know something like that. You never knew the reason behind random summoning, just grew accustomed to despising them. “We can go when Ti-Lee comes out of the bathroom,” He's really doubled down on this girlfriend thing, it seemed.

With a nod, you turn to walk away. The familiar sound of Joon's voice stopping you, “You look pretty, Yn.” You hate the way your heart instantly reacts to the compliment. The three words that you've been hearing all night because of course, you'd look pretty. But for some reason, it feels different coming from him.

But, you wouldn't allow yourself to be swooned by that. He's made it clear where he stands when it comes to you. “Thanks. My date thinks so too,” It's sad how you enjoy the annoyed expression that flashes over his features, quickly being masked by surprise.

“Oh. You brought a date?” As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't spent the majority of the night watching you. So obviously, too. Did he think you wouldn't pick up on it? Though, you'll play along. “Mhm. Hyungwon. He's over there,” You point him out with an outstretched arm, leaning against the bar with the task of getting you a drink.

Most times, Namjoon was pretty good at keeping his thoughts from slipping. Screening them to make sure that he doesn't say anything compromising. Something that he finds harder to do with you involved. “Why'd you bring a date?” Why wouldn't you bring a date? Is on the tip of your tongue.

He's all but screamed that he wanted nothing deeper with you, what with his refusal to speak on things that are clearly bothering him. He was interested, but not as interested as someone would like. And too much of a coward to say so. What was he so afraid of? It's not like you were some pure inexperienced child, you've gone through one night stands before.

If that was all he wanted, he should've just said that. Instead of leaving you to come to the conclusion on your own. Putting together the pieces he so begrudgingly gave to you. Nevermind what Yoongi claims, what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't matter. What matters is how he acts on it and Namjoon hasn't acted at all.

And you certainly weren't going to be the only one out in the wind. “It's a ball? I need someone to dance with... who are you gonna dance with?” A subtle jab, as if you hadn't noticed that he showed up with nobody on his arm tonight.

“I don't really dance much,” His reply is sheepish and meek, you barely hear the words coming from his lips.

You're letting out a hummed sigh and a practiced smile, “That's too bad. Maybe, I'll let you twirl me a few times. It is a charity event after all,” With that you're walking away, promising that you'll follow your brother upstairs when he goes and not sparing another glance at Namjoon.

Hoseok manages to hold his laughter until you're out of earshot, bending forward as he clutches his side. Thick chuckles falling from his lips and filling the space. Joon stays stood beside him, a glare shadowing his features, knowing that he's laughing at him and not being able to be mad at it. The entire situation was laughable in the worst way.

“Oof,” He breaths out after calming, straightening, and letting out a deep breath. “You really pissed her off. What did you do?” He almost delves into all the issues in his head with your brother but holds back for the sake of not getting himself in trouble. Admitting that he actually slept with you to your brother... not a great idea.

Instead, he decides to go with someone he knows Hoseok already knows. “ think she's still pissed I called her superficial... and self-centered,” Not his brightest moment, he was upset, but that wasn't an excuse. It wasn't something he made up, the evidence was right there. But you weren't only that, he knew that.

And chose to ignore it.

“That'll do it.” Hoseok answers with a sure nod. “She hates when people tell her about herself. Especially if they're right,” Of course, he knew how his sister was. How you acted and treated the people around you. You were everything a superficial, self-centered person could be.

Only the people close to you, the people that you felt comfortable with knew that there was more to it. So keen on keeping everyone at an arm's length, you choose to allow the immediate assumption pass, to keep from getting too close. It was better that way. Not often did you meet someone you desired to get to know deeper, to know you.

It felt like that with Joon sometimes, a lot of the time. And you did try to get him to see that you weren't what everyone thought, but it didn't work as well as you had hoped. You were still the same to him.

He's letting out a huff, fingers pushing through his hair. Frustration creeping up the back of his neck. “I didn't think she'd take it to heart! It was just an observation, I didn't mean...” He didn't mean to hurt you, wouldn't imagine it. He wished he could just tell you everything.

How he felt about you, how badly he wanted to be with him – and wanted you to want to be with him. If only it would ruin everything. Although, everything was already ruined... right?

“Why do you feel bad about it now?” Hoseok is fully invested in this conversation now, picking up on the pieces he's missing in the story of you and Namjoon. “Is it because she looks pretty and she's with some guy?”

“No!” There was more to it than just jealousy. As much as he wanted to be in Hyungwon's place, there... was there? “I mean.. yeah?” No, there had to be more. He didn't just want you because he didn't have you. He wanted you because you were you and he didn't quite get it, but he felt it whenever he was with you. It had nothing to do with being jealous. “No! Because she's... she's, her, you know? And she's nice to me, right? So I shouldn't be mean to her?”

Much harder to put into words under your brother's expectant gaze. How was he supposed to explain his feelings when he didn't quite understand them himself. When he hasn't even told you about them properly.

Realizing, he's not going to be getting any more information out of the man, Hoseok is nodding. Eyes searching to find his girlfriend in the crowd, only now remembering that he was expected to meet with his father. “Look, if you think you should apologize, go for it. But don't fuck with her head,” A pointed finger follows his stern warning.

No room is left for Namjoon to respond, Hoseok offering a quick goodbye before he stalks off to wrap himself around the pretty redhead he first arrived with. Whispering something to her before leading her out of the hall and you're just a few steps behind them.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 21:09

You're told to leave the moment your father's eyes set on the woman wrapped around your brother's waist. Deciding that he'd much rather discuss a different matter tonight than what he had originally planned when he called the both of you away. You protest, of course, not wanting to leave him to get in trouble. Even though, he's never done the same for you.

The threats and ultimatums that you knew were coming, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Would more than likely bend at your father's will because he knew nothing else. Ready to do whatever to keep the peace, even if it was against what he wanted.

Hoseok is the one that asks you to leave, though. Shooing you away with a reassuring smile and while hesitant, you still leave. Offering a soft smile over to Ti-lee who looks as nervous as ever.

The first person you lay eyes on when you're reentering the room is no other than Kim Namjoon. Stood in the same spot as before, now engaged in conversation with both Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes lift, just for a moment, before he's spotting you. Offering up the first smile he's shown you in the past few days.

And you hate how quickly your body reacts to the twitch of the lip. You should be focusing on moving on, forgetting everything that happened between the two of you. It was nothing. He surely thought so, no matter how many lousy smiles he flashes in your direction. It didn't change anything. He didn't want to be with you.

Ugh, but you wanted him to be.

More than ready to stamp your foot and ball your fists until you were getting what you want. Yet, you had an inkling that no matter the size of your objection – it still wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change his mind or his heart. It was a fluke, it had to be. Why else would he have pulled back the way he had.

Which is the reason you can't fathom why he'd be making his way over to you right now. Slipping through the crowd of strangers until he's standing right in front of you, with that same smile on his face. “Can I dance with you, now?” His voice just above a whisper and you really wished he'd stop confusing you.

And you wish, you'd stop letting him. “Sure,”

He takes you and leads you into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand placed lightly on the middle of the back as the two of you move to the music. His hand is so big in your hand, the feel of it reminding you of your first night together. Your first date. Hardly two weeks ago, but it felt like much longer.

You don't speak for a while, allow yourself to imagine that it is like this. Simple. That you're with him and he wants to be with you, despite whatever's holding him back. That he talks to you, instead of leaving you in the dark. That you're happy. As pathetic as it may seem, you were always happy with him.

Never even had to do much, he just knew how to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was catching the subtle blush on his cheeks when you teased him or when he was letting himself go around you, being bold. You liked it most when he threw caution to the wind, your heart did too.

And you had thought you'd be seeing much more of that. But maybe you were wrong...

The sound of him clearing his throat, pulls you from your thoughts, training your full attention on him. He looks nervous. “Did... Did I hurt your feelings when I said... those things?” How fragile did he think you were? Expected to have you curled up crying over being told something that you've known your whole life?

Yeah, right. Your feelings weren't hurt, but that didn't mean it was something that you'd like to hear from someone you thought was starting to see you differently. Someone that you thought liked you. It was annoying.

“No. I love being insulted,” Words dry, yet dripping with sarcasm.

He sighs, “I wasn't trying to insult you,”

The humorless laugh that leaves your lips is unexpected even to you, but you do little to suppress it once it slips. “You were trying to compliment me?” Bewildered, of course. If that was his idea of a compliment... well, maybe you had him pegged wrong.

“No. I just... I noticed, so I said it,” Namjoon is quickly realizing that's not the best answer in trying to mend things. Even though you tried to act as if you didn't care, it was obvious to him that his words held some gravity to you. That it bothered you to hear that from him, he could see through your entire act.

Calling you out on it would just lead to more mess, though. “I'm not saying you're not that, we both know you are. I just shouldn't have judged you on it. You're a lot more,” He had misjudged you when you first met, assumed that there weren't that many layers to you. But he was so wrong.

You were complicated and sensitive and extremely loving. And he enjoyed discovering every new aspect of you the closer he got to you. All things that had him so taken with you. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to try and figure things out. Hated how quickly the flame went out. He wanted that back.

“Yeah?” It's hard to mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “What am I?” Honestly, you don't want to sound as hopeful as you feel, but you can't help it. To hear, finally, what he really thinks of you... and maybe what else has been going on in his mind. What has been blocking him from you?

But Joon is terrible on the spot and is quickly clamming up under your gaze. The list he had created mere moments ago fleeting from his memory, only one word behind. And it's not the right one. “Pretty. I mean...” Desperately trying to search for the right words, but you're already rolling your eyes.

“Well, look who's superficial now.” You scoff, but you don't sound mad. Playful even. The teasing tone that he's grown used to in these past few weeks. It has him thinking, maybe he might still have a chance. “I know I'm pretty. And I know I'm spoiled and self-centered. But, I also know I'm intelligent. Outgoing. Kindhearted.” You tick each characteristic on your fingers. “You didn't care about any of that. Didn't even care to mention it,”

“I know. I'm sorry.” The two of you needed to talk, he's only now realizing how badly. There were so many things that he needed to tell you and in turn, so many things that he wanted to hear from you. If you weren't going to be together, at least you could clear the air. At least both of you could do without the confusion weighing over your hearts.

And it had to be now, no more of this waiting around bullshit. He's already lost two weeks of potentially being with you. He was done screwing around. “Should we go somewhere to talk?”

You don't think there's been a time you were invited to 'go somewhere to talk' and actually talked about anything. It annoys you how easily the words crush your spirit, proving how little control you had over your emotions when it came to him. And to make matters worse, you wanted to go with him.

Whether you were actually talking to correct things or just fooling around as you suspected was his intention. No matter what it was, you wanted to go along with him and that was scared as fuck. Still, you were far from becoming a bobblehead yes-woman at the mere mention of being alone with him.

Keeping your composure was at the top of the list. So you play into it, fingers crawling up his shoulder, to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” His eyes widen, obviously surprised that you've caught on.

Namjoon is shocked. How you'd get that from wanting to talk to you. Honestly, what went on in that head of yours, he'd love to know. But, while talking to you was at the utmost of importance... there was no way he could deny that being with you like that again would be nice. The moment held residence in his mind since that night and seeing you every day, looking the way you do did not help.

But, was this a test? Was he not supposed to want to sleep with you because your relationship... if it could even be called that, wasn't in the state to be even further complicated by doing such things. Were you testing him?

“What's the right answer to this?”

He loves the way you play with his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “No right answer. It's just what you want,” You're voice is all hushed and sensual, staring up at him through the ridiculously long lashes you've glued on. Which he always finds pretty.

“Uhm. Yes?”

You don't even miss a beat. “Why?”

It had been a test. At least he thinks so, why else would you be asking him why he wanted to sleep with you. He's sure he fucked up, yet again. “No right answer?”

Shaking your head, you smile. And it's a real smile. “No right answer.” Maybe he was wrong? Maybe you just wanted to know?

Joon was hardly doing anything without thinking it through it thoroughly first. He'd overthink into oblivion if it was possible. And like he wanted to know why you liked him, a question that you had fumbled, thinking it was a joke – you wanted to know why he wanted to sleep with you. Didn't really care for the answer, it would change much.

You just wanted to know.

“I like the way you look in your dress,” He's confessing because it's the truth. “And your waist feels good in my hands... you smell so sweet, and...” And I miss you. He can't seem to get his lips to form the words, the ambiguity of our situation holding him back. He didn't want to be the only one out in the wind.

Curious, you prompt. “And?”

“And, I want you.” He figures that should suffice. Doesn't give way to anything deeper that might scare you off. You can want someone without longing for them, right? Although, he did, very much long for you.

That was a conversation to be had at another time, though, because you're grinning. Leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and he swears he feels his heart leap from his chest. And as quickly as you closed in on him, you're back away, with a mischievous look in your eye.

Fingers dipping into the cleavage of your dress and he's not ashamed to admit that amount of attention he pays to them until you're presenting a key from your breast, extending it out to him.

“My rooms on the top floor. I'll meet you up there,” First, you've got to say goodnight to Hyungwon. You try not to look so excited when you walk away, even though it's buzzing from your pores. It was weird. Feeling this hopeful by having a man up to your room, it certainly wast' the first time.

But, Namjoon wasn't any ordinary man. He was different in ways you could no describe. You liked him and there was something there. You knew it, you could feel it. And no matter how cool he tried to act. You're sure he could feel it too.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 22:11

You find Hyungwon just as he's leading a pretty girl to his car. The slight stumble in his step giving way to how many drinks he's had tonight. He grins when he sees you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek that earns you a scowl from the girl beside him. Wait till she found out you were his girlfriend.

In no mood to spoil their night, you're quick with your goodbye. Letting him know that you'd be fine to find your own way home, which he quickly meets with his suspicions of you going back inside to meet Namjoon. A lady never tells, so he's whooping with excitement when you confirm it.

He's kissing you before slipping into the back seat of the car, the girl following behind him. The scowl not once leaving her features as she passes you. Lifting your hand to wave them off, because you can't help yourself. And you have every intention to go find Namjoon in your room, but you're being met with a sad looking Hoseok the moment you turn.

“I have to break up with Ti-Lee,” He's saying before you have the chance to ask him what's wrong. You're rushing to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He looks so torn, on the verge of tears. You feel tears well at the brim of your eyes from the sight. “Why?” Asking, even though you already know the answer.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he wiggles from your grip, the sad look on his face replaced with this hard expression that does not suit him at all. “She doesn't suit me. I should be with someone... else,” His words are so robotic, not even hiding that he's literally repeating exactly what your father has told him.

Now, if it were you, you'd laugh it off with a great big 'fuck you', but Hoseok wasn't like you. So, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to see, that no he shouldn't. “Uhm. Do you want to be with someone else?”

He had been so excited to introduce Ti-Lee, not only to your family but to anyone who was willing to listen. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten the boy was with her and you knew your brother, it wasn't easy to grasp and keep his attention.

And he knew that too. Never has he met someone like his girlfriend. He had no idea it would end up like this when they first met, either. Had been prepared to sum it up to nothing more than a casual hook up, but then he was left wanting and wondering. Wondering what she was doing, how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, how she'd feel to know that he was thinking about her.

It was sudden, the way he fell for her. In the middle of his busy life, where he swore he didn't have time for anything else. And then she was stepping in and it was like he couldn't really enjoy anything else. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about!?”

You see the annoyance wash over his features, shifting into anger. No doubt replaying the conversation he must've just had. But just as soon as it appears, it's gone. “Dad said it would be in my best interest if-”

With a firm shake of your head, you're cutting him off. “He doesn't care about your best interest, Hoseok.” It was about time he flat out heard it. That man didn't care about anyone but himself and he had everyone, even his own son fooled. But not you. “What could be wrong with Ti-Lee?”

“She doesn't even have a real job,” He's saying, but he doesn't mean it. The words don't even sound like his, because you know for a fact your brother doesn't care about things like that. “That wasn't a problem to you before. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

He's offering up another recycled reason on your father's list of unsuitables. “She could be with me for my money,” You actually laugh at that one. The both of you knew how to sniff out money-hungry people trying to nuzzle into your lives. There's no way he'd let Ti-Lee get this close if he thought that was the case.

But, you point out for his sake. “She makes her own money. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

You're more than ready to poke holes through any of his bullshit reasons on why he shouldn't be with this girl. Reasons that you know he doesn't even believe himself. A loud groan leaves his lips, hands pushing through his hair.

“Nothing's wrong with her! She's perfect but... but, I have to break up with her, Yn. You wouldn't understand,” You're actually the only person in the entire world that would understand. And also the only person in the entire world that can honestly tell him that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back when you tried to earn your father's affection or even a few words of praise. Anything. You tried so hard, but every last one of your efforts were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a second glance. It didn't take you long to put together that nothing really impressed your father, so might as well enjoy yourself if he was going to scowl at everything.

Hoseok has yet to realize this, but he'd never really be happy until he stopped being so compliant. “No, that's not fair. I won't let you do it.” Putting your foot down literally, which may look childish... but you mean business. “You like her! Like actually like her. You don't like anyone, Hoseok. That's not fair.”

“Come on, do you really think dad would have m do anything he didn't think was best?” Was he brainwashed? What parent would so deliberately stand in the way of their kid's happiness and claim that it's in their best interest? That wasn't parenthood. Like at all.

It was a fucking dictatorship. “Hobi,” You've gotta reach to grasp his shoulders as you speak, eyes trained on his. “Dad doesn't give a shit about you.” Speaking slowly in hopes that the words will penetrate through his rose-colored glasses.

He's knocking your hands off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What? Now you're being ridiculous.” Right, how could he not give a shit about him? That was his favorite after all. Of course, all of his shits were given and served directly to him. Dumbass.

“I'm serious! He only gives a fuck because you fit into his perfect plan. Successful rapper, more than ready to take over. The second something doesn't fit, he's cutting it out. Regardless of how it makes you feel. Why weren't you able to start your clothing line?” He had spent weeks meeting up with designers and artists, creating the basis of the brand he'd name after his very first album.

And right when things were starting to take off, it was being decided that he was spending too much time on things of no value. That he should be more focused on making music rather than trying to appeal to his fans with flashy things. The fact that he was having the most fun didn't matter. Making music. Money for the company.

That. That was more important.

“Because it wasn't a good idea.” And Hoseok had himself convinced that it was his idea to quit. Didn't even fight it when things started tumbling down, just went along with it like he always did.

You had bugged him for weeks about it but gave up after you realized you weren't getting anywhere. He was fucking brainwashed. “No, because it wasn't apart of the plan. So he made sure it didn't happen. He's got you under his thumb, Hobi. Wake up!”

He's getting mad and you can see it. But he has no idea where to direct it. You make sense and he hates that you do. Yet, he can't bring himself to believe that his dad would be setting him up for anything but success. He was his prodigy. It's always been that way, so why now would it be any different?

You were wrong. “No. You don't know what you're talking about. It might be that way for you, Yn. But you're a fuck up. What do you expect? You can't clump us together.” His words cut deeper than he intends. And you find yourself stepping back from him, blinking through the heaviness behind your eyes.

“I'm not a fuck up,” You don't even sound like yourself, all weak and wounded.

His words are fast. “Yes, you are. Every chance you get, you fuck up. And just because you've been keeping your shit lately doesn't change anything. Does it?” He was mad at you and all you were trying to do was help him.

All you ever did was try and help him. Because he was too stupid to see things as they were. Convinced that everything was perfect and you both had such a great dad.. all you needed to do was clean up your act. Be better and he'll treat you as well as he treats me. When that wasn't the case at all.

It's almost laughable, how little he knew about the man he idolized. “That's funny. The only reason why I've been 'keeping my shit' is because of you! Your fucking dad threatened me with you. Told me if I were to make another mistake he'd tank your album. Oh, but he cares about you, right? Why would he leave that in the hands of a fuck up?”

The rejection is instant, dismissing your words with a shake of his head. “You're lying.” He concludes. Not seeing any other outcome to this. What you were saying couldn't be true. There's no way his own dad would gamble on his work. No way.

“I don't lie and you know that. Let's go ask him,” Voice sounding a bit too chipper for the circumstance, but this was a long time coming.

Reaching for his hand, you're tugging him back into the hall, leading him straight to the table where your father sits. Completely forgetting about Namjoon waiting for you upstairs.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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sodadrabbles · 3 years

Note

hear me out- one more littleboo but like if they were crying or like going through smt and ranboo just helps//comforts them if that makes sense? GEHDDH okay have a good day :]

THE PEOPLE DEMAND HURT/COMFORT. I SHALL FEED YOU, MY PEOPLE

Also, I wanted to address why I use ‘Ranboo’ in these fics, when referring to the actual CC- We don’t know Ranboo’s real name. I want to respect his wishes and not speculate, because that’s creepy. So, I just use Ranboo. A couple people were asking in my inbox. I know Tubbo said his name was Mark, but that was never confirmed, and, again, I don’t want to speculate on his personal information, that’s WEIRD.

LIttleboo IV: Hurt/comfort or bust.

Pairing: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral)!

Rating: Soft. Bad ending, I’m so sorry (NOT ANGST, IM JUST BAD AT WRITING)

Summary: Being a freshman sucks ass, but Ranboo bought taco bell, it’s all good.

To say today was a bad day would be an understatement. It was probably the most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of your 14-year-old life. The whole day the universe would launch bad thing after bad thing at you, as if it was somehow testing you in your will to deal with bullshit. Like it was asking you ‘What are you willing to put up with today?’

Your answer was ‘Not fucking this.’

You woke up to your brother shaking you softly, telling you the power had gone out and you were both late. For an upperclassman this wasn’t a big deal- But you were a freshman. Your teachers were going to give you absolute hell for being late, and knowing Ranboo was going to get off scot-free made you a little salty. You had to skip breakfast and had to leave with your hair still a bit messy, barely able to comb through it with your fingers while Ranboo drove you both to school.

Then there was a pop quiz first period- English. You were never terrible at english, but being on the topic of the last three chapters of the book you were reading for class- Chapters which you had not read yet- The test had been a little difficult. Not to mention the hunger clawing at your stomach, and the strange fog that was settled about your thoughts.

You thought you could catch a break through second period and lunch, knowing Chemistry would be an easy day and you could grab something good with your brother, but fate had other plans in mind.

During Chemistry, you were tasked with picking a partner and completing an experiment afterthought worksheet, going over the experiment you had done in class the day before. You were paired with the nice girl sat next to you- At least you thought she was nice. As the teacher dismissed the class to begin talking amongst themselves, you turned to start asking her how her experiment went yesterday. You didn’t have a chance to ask, however, as the girl snapped at you harshly. “Don’t even bother! I’m not doing this assignment. Do it on your own.”

Her voice was pitched and loud, and it caused you to wince back. You tilt your head and try to ask her, but she cuts you off by flicking the paper in your direction. It sends both your papers flying, and you try to catch them, but fail miserably and fall out of your chair unceremoniously. As you fall, your foot comes up to counter balance and you nearly kick the girl in the head- Keyword being nearly. You were sure you were able to stop yourself, and hadn’t touched it, but still the girl screeches and begins screaming bloody murder. The teacher comes over to check what’s going on, the girl sobbing and holding her head.

And then she lies through her teeth.

“Sir, she just kicked me! I was just asking about her experiment and she kicks me!”

She’s sobbing dramatically, and though you’re clearly not at fault, considering it was clear you had fallen out of your chair. Even still the teacher sides with her, giving you a short and disappointing talk about violent behaviour in the classroom, ending with “I have no choice but to give you lunch detention and a zero on the assignment.”

You don’t try to argue- Exhaustion was already settling on your body and you didn’t want to just make the situation worse than it already was. The rest of second period dragged on like a snail. You sat awkwardly at your table, twiddling your thumbs and staring at the walls. You could feel eyes boring into the back of your skull with each passing glance at the students. A few whispers that seemed much too loud yet indecipherable hitting your ears, somehow knowing deep in your soul that the other students were whispering about you. By the time the lunch bell rang you were starting to feel tears prick at your eyes as your own thoughts betrayed you.

During lunch detention, you were at the very least allowed your phone. You texted your brother, alerting him that you had lunch detention. He promised to bring you food before your third period began- The gesture brought a smile to your face. Your third period was your favorite, because Ranboo was also taking that class. US History. You were able to push through detention with Philza’s stream, starting a TTS war with Wilbur in the time you were able to watch. Of course, mentioning you were in detention earned you a little rant from Phil, not doing much to better your mood.

When third period came down to bless you, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the happy sight of your tall older brother holding a taco bell bag in his hand. You basically tackled him, nearly knocking him to the ground. His arms flew around you for stability, and you gripped the back of his shirt as an involuntary sob came out of your mouth.

Ranboo stared down at you with his brows furrowed with concern, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. He pushed you to the side to allow other students to get into the classroom, and released you from the hug to look you in the face. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks and nose were red, stray tears still rolling down your cheeks. He wiped one away.

“(Y/N), what happened? Why are you crying?” He asked, your eyes avoiding him. You hated to cry in front of people- But the stress of the day weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had just gotten too excited. When you explained this, Ranboo shook his head. “(Y/N) it’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to apologize.”

He hugged you again, and you hugged him back. After standing there for a moment, the annoying ring of the school bell sounded overheard, alerting you that class was starting.

“Tell you what,” Ranboo beamed at you, picking up the bag of food. “We’re gonna go in there, annoy Mr. Anderson, and eat chalupas until we explode. Sound good?”

You smile and nod your head. God, your older brother is so cool.

---

The rest of the day was smooth as it could be. You spent all of third period messing around with Ranboo- The assignment given for the day forgotten as homework that you would sit down and do together before Ranboo had to stream. You feared that your fourth period, Algebra, would once again break you down into a ball of anxiety and terror. But to your pleasant surprise, you would be watching a movie with a substitute for that class.

Your mood had been significantly raised by the time the bell had rung, releasing you from the confines of the building. You packed your things quietly, the hustle and bustle of an emptying school occupying your senses. You had rushed down through the hallways towards to doors leading to student parking. Ranboo was supposed to be waiting for you at the car.

But before you could reach the door, you felt a hand grip your bag, pulling you backwards. Your feet flew out from under you as you fell to the ground, your bag being ripped from your shoulders. You felt you back collide with the cold, tiled ground, pain shooting through spine.

Shrill giggling sounds from above you. You groan and roll onto your front, staring up at a group of three girls laughing at you. You recognized the one holding your bag from your chemistry class. By the looks of the other two, they were also freshmen. You try to get on your feet, but the girl swings her leg, knocking your hands out from under you. You feel something press against your back.

The girl from your class laughs as she bends down to look at you. “You thought you could get away with that little stunt?” She sneers, her hand grabbing your face. Not able to think of anything else to do, you snap your jaws, nearly biting her. She screeches and backs away.

“DID YOU JUST TRY TO BITE ME?” She screams, her face twisted in disgust. You feel the presume on your back worsen, and you strain your neck to see who was standing on your back. You recognized the guy as a junior on the soccer team. You vaguely recalled the girl mentioned she was dating a guy on the soccer team.

You squirm, freeing your hands from underneath you. Just as you were about to grab the guy’s leg, you hear a familiar voice shout. The three girls in front of you scatter like rats- But the soccer player stays. He turns to look at whoever shouted, his chest puffing out as if he’s prepared for a fight. However the color seems to drain from his face when he sees the mystery person- And he runs away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

As you start to stand, someone grabs you by the shoulders and helps you up. You’re met with the mop of brown hair and concerned gray eyes of your older brother. He helps you to your feet, handing you your bag. You thank him as you throw the bag over your shoulders, giving your older brother a tight hug.

You don’t even realize there were tears in your eyes again, until Ranboo tells you to dry your eyes. “Sorry…” You whisper, hand wiping away the water. “I don’t know why I’m crying.

Ranboo smiles at you again, his hand patting the top of your head. You smile at him too, and he leads you out of the school, asking if you’re alright or if anything hurts. You spend the walk to the car feeling grateful you have someone to help you out like that. It has you smiling to entire ride home.

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #dsmp x reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo x y/n #request #anon #cc!ranboo x reader #cc!ranboo x you #cc!ranboo x y/n

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oldbay-on-apples · 3 years

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Dystopian Larry Fic Rec

Inspired by some of the lovely people and fic recers on here, I’ve decided to start making my own fic recs. If you’d like, you can request recs in my inbox and I’ll see what I can do <3!

Please read the ratings and tags to these fics (because some of them are dark or have dark themes) and enjoy!

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by lululawrence - @lululawrence (NR, 36k)

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly. There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere. Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing. Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined. -

I loved the way the magic and technology in this fic intersected in such a unique way and the way the world was built was extraordinary!

red hands by reveries_passions - @dystopianharry (T, 132k)

I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them. “But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.” * a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

- The plot of this is just *chef’s kiss* in so many ways! I love the way the characters interact with each other and I’m weak for Niall and Harry’s friendship in this.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice - @mercurial-madhouse (E 158k)

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?” ----- Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda. When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

This just came out in the most recent Big Bang (that’s still on going so you should definitely check that out) and this fic is so amazing! I think it does a great job of just really immersing you in the world the characters exist in. Love After the End of the World is also a Soulmate AU and I love the way those parts come together. It also has an amazing prologue called PROMETHEUS RISING (M 5k) that I enjoyed immensely set in the same world!

at last, at last by suspendrs - @suspendrs (NR 41k) Locked

“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

This fic does a great job of making you feel like you’re experiencing with the characters, like I could practically smell what the characters were smelling! The world it’s set in is so cool and the entire fic feels so well thought out and everything is so consistent!

my love will never leave you by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (T 10k)

In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.

I loved the idea behind this. Like the entire world is so brilliantly done! And it was all based on ONE word (because of the wordplay challenge). Even though it’s set in a different world everything feels so grounded and realistic and I really really like that about it.

a prayer for which no words exist by Eliane (M 34k) Locked

"Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time."

In this fic the characters motivations are so clear (to the reader) and I love how it goes from Louis accidentally sort of, kind of, kidnapping Harry to them becoming friends then more. I also love how no matter where they are the fic has a real sense of place. This is part 1 of landscapes of war. The entire series is really good!

Who Painted the Moon Black by throughthedark (E 95k) Locked

“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”

Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six's victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven's victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.

This fic is a hunger games AU that both people who have and haven't read/watched the Hunger Games can enjoy. I like how it explores the world of the Hunger Games in a way that isn’t explored in the Hunger Games canon. It’s really intense (like the E is for the darker themes and violence) and I enjoy it a lot. There is a happy ending (as the author assures in the tags) and I really enjoy all the struggles that the characters go through.

Nobody Marks You by graceling_in_a_suit @graceling-in-a-suit (T 33k)

“The plan is: we’re gonna put on a play. Now, I see some doubtful faces–” Louis looked around and found zero doubtful faces. Liam looked intrigued, Zayn looked bored, and Harry looked scarily blank. “But this is what’s happening. We’re gonna do some fucking acting, we’re gonna perform our hearts out, and we’re not going to think about anything else. The past, the future; none of it. All we’re going to think about is... “ Niall trailed off, eyeing the bookshelf to his left. He closed his eyes and reached a hand out towards it, running his fingers over the covers before pulling a book out at random. “William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”

AU: Five assholes stuck in a bunker put on a play.

This is one of my absolute favorite fics. I just love the way the characters interact and they way the story is told. It’s nonlinear so you jump around in time and it shows the way the character's relationships change throughout. I’m a sucker for Much Ado About Nothing and though you don’t need to read it to fully appreciate the fic I think the use of the play throughout is genius.

@1dfanfictionbookcovers has a really cool cover for the fic as well HERE

With a whimper by kitundercover @kitundercover (M 132k)

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.

---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

The thing this fic does really does is showing emotional reactions. Louis’ inner monologue is so well done and I really like the plot of the story.

these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi (T 123k)

they live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don't want to live that way.

I really, really, really, like this plot and the story! The world that the characters exist in is so interesting and I just love the way in which it is a dystopia.

#my fic recs #Dystopian Larry fic rec #Larry Fic Recs #Dystopian Fic Recs #fic recs

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lovelylunarwriting · 3 years

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Jaemin Soulmate!AU

Jaemin has a reputation as a “cool” kind of guy, which is why he wears bracelets to hide the words permanently etched on his left wrist

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”

Jisung and Haechan are notorious for giving him shit for having a ‘weird’ soulmate, but Jaemin thinks it’s kind of funny, honestly

Like great question dude but,,, why are you asking me this

Jaemin’s apartment is around the corner from a little family-owned grocery store that he’s frequented since his high school days.

He’s very much a regular, to the point of the owner being like “Jaemin…. Please just work here. You already know where everything is”

To which Jaemin has to respectfully decline, because he wants to focus on his dancing and singing, and working too much would get in the way of practicing.

That, however, does not stop the old man from sending customers with questions to Jaemin whenever he comes in.

Because Jaemin is too polite to be like “uhh I don’t work here, good luck”, he always ends up helping them

But secretly, he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe one day, his soulmate will be the next one to ask him a question.

Even after repeated questions about “how much does this cost?”, “when do you guys open tomorrow?”, “when will the next shipment of bok choy be in?”, he still isn’t terribly bothered.

The other employees chastise the boss for sending customers to Jaemin, but the old man is always like “he knows this store better than you all do. That’s why he gets a discount higher than yours”

Employee discount: 15 percent off all merchandise

Na Jaemin discount: 20 percent off all merchandise

It’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that Na Jaemin gets a discount, but they are NEVER to mention it to him! He knows that business has been rough recently and wouldn’t accept the generosity, but the boss thinks Jaemin is too skinny and wants him to be able to afford to eat well.

Now lovely reader, this is where you come in. You recently got a job at this grocery store but you work in the back, so you have never seen the famous “Na Jaemin” that all your fellow employees chat about so frequently.

Coworker #1: “Ugh, he’s like SO dreamy”

Coworker #2: “I know right? He’ll have no trouble becoming an idol at this rate”

Meanwhile you’re like “lol what who? Also where is the printer for printing clearance labels”

You specifically applied for the back of house position because you did not want to talk to people.

It’s not that you’re antisocial by any means- honestly it’s the opposite. It’s just that you have the tendency to say whatever you’re thinking with absolutely no filter.

So in the past when more…. challenging… customers have talked down to you, you gave back the same energy without thinking.

Management was not happy,,, so you were like “mmmm maybe I should just keep to myself and everyone would be happier”

One day though, it seems that you’re shit out of luck.

Your work bestie calls you at 3 in the morning on your day off saying that her kid has a fever and she’s gotta stay home and take care of him.

You have no plans other than generally being a lazy lump at home, and she’s always had your back at work, so you’re like “girl don’t worry about it, I got your shift. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup for him too”

To which she’s like “bitch if I hadn’t found my soulmate already I would’ve snatched you up T-T”

You giggle and tell her to try and get some rest- both her and her kid.

And then sleep another blissful 4 hours before rolling in for the 8am shift.

When you get there, boss man is like “ayeee so you’re covering for her shift which is stocking shelves, are you gonna be okay doing that?”

You: “Ahaha yeah it’ll be fine~ just please don’t send customers to me oh my gosh”

Boss Man: “Don’t worry, I just saw Jaemin walk in. I’ll send them to him”

You: “... who is Jaemin”

Boss Man: “He’s my FAVORITE!! Remember that!”

You: “Oh, okay!! Yes sir!”

You’re like fifteen minutes into your shift and you’re already on edge because all you’ve done so far is dodge all the old ladies who are shopping this early.

No actual products have been put on the shelves yet, or at least not by your hands.

Settling down in the dairy section, you relax a bit and start putting cold products in the cold shelves fixed to the wall.

And of course- things are in the wrong place. Why would anyone put anything back where it belongs?

Picking up a product, you glance at the label out of sheer boredom more than anything.

“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”, you say to yourself.

Or so you think.

“Yeah, that is like the one question I don’t know how to answer”, you hear a masculine voice say from behind.

You spin around and look up into the man’s face.

And oh boy is that a nice looking face.

“Oh I’m sorry, I- WAIT”, you start, before you realize what he said.

Grabbing his left wrist, you push up the bracelets to reveal what you’d just said. Then you drop his hand out of sudden shyness, and because it’s not cool just to grab people.

“Do… do you mind if I look at your wrist as well?”, he asks quietly.

You roll up your sleeve and present him with your arm. He delicately wraps his fingers around your wrist and flips it over to read the words written”

He drops your wrist and sinks into a squat, flopping his arms over his head and looking at the ground.

“Oh my gosh why did I say something so lame…”

“Umm,,, to be fair,,, I did ask you about butter so by comparison yours isn’t that bad,,,,”, you try to comfort him, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze.

“You mean that? It wasn’t like the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Oh I’ve heard much lamer things, don’t worry!”, you say with a cheery smile that contrasts your words entirely.

He stands up again and clasps your hands in his. With a look of determination he looks straight into your soul and asks:

“What time do you get off work?”

You tell him, but let him know that you’ll be busy after work making chicken noodle soup for your coworker and her son.

He’s like “oh you can cook?” and you’re like “lol no but I’m gonna die trying”

He writes his phone number on your arm (next to your soulmate tattoo) and is like “text me when you’re done with work and I’ll swing by and walk you home and maybe I can help you cook”

And quickly clarifies “ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH ME IN YOUR HOME, I UNDERSTAND IF BECAUSE WE JUST MET YOU-”

You’re like “dude,,,, it’s fine, we are literally destined to be together. Also if you try anything I’ll just beat you up so it’s chill”

Looking at his watch, he sprints makes a beeline for the checkout counter, going on about he’s gonna be so later and Haechan’s never gonna let it go if he’s late twice in a row, and something else but by that point he’s so far away from the dairy aisle you can only hear muffled sounds where words should be.

The next several hours could not go by ANY SLOWER.

Starting off today, you figured the day would go by quickly because you’d be preoccupied figuring out how to do something new, but now all you can think about is pretty soulmate boy.

And how he never mentioned his name, but to be fair, it was a rather quick exchange.

What feels like centuries later, your shift is coming to a close so you grab the ingredients you the internet tells you you need for the soup and head to your favorite cashier.

Somehow the front of the store is both quiet and abnormally loud for this time of night.

“Jaemin’s been waiting there for fifteen minutes? Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Maybe he needs to talk to the boss? Usually he’d just ask one of us to grab him but he’s just standing outside”

“Ugh it’s so cold, should we tell him to come inside?”

You glance over to the crowd of coworkers towards the entrance and break out into a smile.

“Just keep ringing me up, I’ll be right back!”, you tell the cashier and fast walk past the small crowd.

Peeping your head out the door, you greet him.

“Are you cold? Come inside, I’m almost done”

“Oh okay, should I wait by the door though?”

“No, come with me. I wanna show you off~”, you instruct and he raises an eyebrow, but plays along.

Holding open the door for him, he scuffles his way in and shyly offers his hand.

Gladly, and with a pounding heart, you lock your fingers between his.

“Your hands are freezing, dude”

“Shhh it’s fine. I was trying to be cool, okay”, he jokes with you as you walk back to the register

Ringing up your items, the cashier is looking at you and him with raised eyebrows, and you’re just like “shut up jessica I’ll explain tomorrow”

The two of you walk back to your apartment and spend the rest of the night cooking and talking about everything and nothing.

The more you learn about Jaemin, the more confident you are that the universe got this one right.

Even when most things feel unclear, you know this person is someone you can always rely on.

(also when you bring your sick work bestie the soup, Jaemin insists on tagging along and she’s like “omg Y/N that’s JAEMIN” and you’re like “I KNOW” and he’s like “hi here’s some soup, also why do you know my name”

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odos-bucket · 3 years

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So I was reading @andillwriteyouatragedy‘s incredible Brand New Day where Bruce and Clark adopt a young Dick Grayson together, and was thinking about a sort of companion story where they take in Jason together too. Using that story as a rough reference, I’m gonna say they’ve been together for a decade or so here. Dick is somewhere in his late teens. I’m figuring Clark probably offers to tag along on Bruce’s annual trip to crime alley every year. Bruce always politely declines. It’s basically become a part of the day’s bleak tradition. Clark is surprised when for once his offer is accepted. Later on, if pressed, neither of them would be able to pinpoint what was different about that night that made Bruce decide that it might be okay to have some company for once. Clark probably feels weird about it at first. Even though he’d asked Bruce if he wanted company, and Bruce had said yes, which he never would have unless he’d absolutely meant it (and Clark knows that). It still feels a little like he’s intruding on something private, even sacred. Then of course they get there, and there’s nothing going on. Superman’s senses don’t pick up the slightest hint of disruption anywhere in the neighborhood. Maybe they start patrolling around it anyways, maybe they just wander for a couple of blocks. Sooner or later they overhear someone talking about how it’s this night every year that Batman comes calling. Local criminals have picked up on the fact that if they just keep their heads down for this one specific night they can pretty much avoid him. Bruce is all grumbly about it, and immediately goes into ~strategy mode~ like, “Okay, I’ll have to start coming here on different days, on an irregular schedule.” He immediately opens up a dozen different tabs in his brain with calendars, and crime statistics, and is thinking a mile a minute, because that’s what he does. He’s kind of agitated about needing to change something that’s been a ritual for so long (because Batman has OCD, fight me) and he’s annoyed at himself for being bothered by it. Absolutely none of this sudden inner turmoil is detectable in his expression or body language. But Clark knows Bruce, knows how he reacts to things, and that there’s no way he’s not annoyed right now. He says, “Sounds like tonight will be a bust if we stay here,” then when Bruce grunts in response, continues, “We could go back to the manor. Watch a movie.” Then after a pause. “Or we could patrol somewhere else.” A moment passes. When Bruce says, “Okay,” Clark isn’t sure which suggestion he’s agreeing to, but they start back towards the car. It’s not a long walk, but they aren’t moving particularly quickly. By the time they get back to the batmobile it only has one wheel.

Clark frowns as he walks closer, before being stopped in his tracks by a surprising sound. It’s a sound that he recognizes immediately, that he hears all too infrequently. Bruce is laughing. Clark’s mouth quirks into a half smile. He takes a few steps forward, thinking about just picking the whole thing up and flying it back home. Then from a few paces ahead he hears Bruce’s low, gravelly Batman voice say, “Hi there.” Once he’s tuned in to the idea of another presence nearby, it becomes obvious to his advanced senses that someone is lurking behind the car. “Shit,” a small voice says. Bruce takes a few steps closer. “Planning on finishing the job?” He gestures to their remaining wheel. Clark shifts until he can get the kid partially in his sight without the aid of x-ray vision. He’s small, and looks to be somewhere in his pre-teens. “I got no idea what you’re talking about,” he says quickly. “Oh really?” Bruce asks. The boy glares at him. “Nice tire iron,” Bruce continues. “Comes in handy.” “I bet it does.” No sooner than the words are out of Bruce’s mouth, the tool is colliding with his shin. The boy shoots out from behind the car, and down a nearby street. Clark starts toward Bruce, who quickly gestures for him to go after the kid instead. He catches up with him in less than a second. When his hand falls onto the kid’s shoulder he freezes, muscles tightening throughout his body, and heart rate speeding up rapidly. The fear response is so sudden and extreme that Clark finds himself pulling away as if he’s been burned. The anxiety around being feared is something he’s mostly left in his past, but there’s a deep rooted insecurity within him that it still prods at. The kid stumbles when he starts to run again, and by then Bruce has caught up. They hang back, but trail after the boy at a distance, until they reach a condemned building a few blocks away. “Should we go in?” Clark asks. “Probably where my tires are,” Bruce says, before climbing through an uncovered doorway. It isn’t hard to find him again. There aren’t too many heartbeats in the area to distinguish between. When Bruce opens the door to the dilapidated room, the boy’s pulse rate jumps through the roof. Nothing changes externally about him though, and Clark wonders whether or not Bruce can tell that he’s afraid of them. There’s the slightest vibration to his words when he speaks. “Okay, take your stupid tires already. I’m sorry, all right? Just leave me alone!” Bruce isn’t looking at his tires. He’s looking around the room, no doubt noticing the same things that Clark has, mold, water damage, a broken window. The place is freezing. Then in the corner there’s a cardboard box with some pasta and canned goods in it, a small stack of books, and a mattress on the floor. “Do you… live here?” Bruce asks. “Yeah. What of it?” Bruce takes a few more steps into the room. “Where are your parents, son?” Clark asks. “Mom’s dead. I dunno where Dad is; don’t really care, if I’m being honest. Now take your stuff and go already!” He’s holding the iron up again, wielding it in a manner that’s clearly meant to be threatening. Bruce plucks it out of his hands with relative ease, inspects it, then turns it around and hands it back. “Move your thumb up like this, and you’ll have a sturdier grip. And don’t stand with your legs so far apart, it’ll put you off balance.” He sighs. “What’s your name?” “… Jason.” He grabs the tire iron back, shuffling to adjust his grip and footing, keeping his stance defensive. Bruce looks around the place again. “You can’t stay here, Jason.” “Oh yeah? Says who? I can take care of myself! Been doing it for long enough.” Bruce glances up at Clark, who can see the wheels turning in his head, before looking back at Jason. “I’d really like the wheels of my car back,” he says carefully, then hurries to continue before Jason can interject. “Can I make you a deal? We’ll buy you dinner if you reattach the batmobile’s tires?”

There’s a fast food place a couple of blocks away that’s open 24 hours. Jason agrees to accompany them, but walks a few yards behind. The employees at the place aren’t at all phased by the appearance of the two vigilantes. Bruce inspects a suspicious stain on one of the walls, while Jason and Clark look at the menu posted above the counter. They order- Bruce gets two of what Jason asks for- then go outside to eat. Bruce is lost in thought as they exit the restaurant, wondering what it would take to bring free food trucks to the area. Jason’s halfway done with his meal by the time they sit down on the sidewalk. “Do you go to school around here?” Bruce asks, wanting to put together a fuller picture of the boy’s situation. Jason gets a distant look in his eyes in response to the question. He finishes chewing slowly, swallows, then shakes his head, clearing his throat before replying. “No. Not for a long time now.” He shrugs. “I got all I needed to out of it.” “You had some pretty advanced reading material back at your place for someone who didn’t finish middle school.” Bruce recalled seeing The Odyssey amongst his few possessions, as well as a couple of Shakespeare plays. Jason shrugs again. “Reading’s not that hard.” “Some people find it very difficult,” Clark says. “Some people are stupid.” Bruce cuts in before Clark can start on the gentle reprimand he can see him preparing. “Ever think that maybe you’re just smart?” Jason gives him a curious look, like that really wasn’t a possibility that he had considered before, then takes another bite, and stares off thoughtfully. “So, Homer,” Bruce prompts. Jason nods. “It’s a fun story. Odi-seuss is a dick though.” Bruce resists both the compulsion to correct his pronunciation of ‘Odysseus’, and Alfred’s voice in the back of his head urging him to tell the kid not to swear. “What makes you say that?” He asks instead. Jason looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gee, I don’t know, maybe all the pillaging, and murdering he does throughout the entire book.” “Poem,” Bruce corrects. “What?” “The Odyssey is a poem.” “Wait, really?” Bruce hums an affirmative. “Huh… cool. But the point still stands.” “I’m inclined to agree with you. Have you ever read The Scarlet Pimpernel?” Jason shakes his head. “It’s been a personal favorite for a long time,” says Bruce. Clark shoots him an amused grin. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone throwing out a copy,” Jason says. Bruce frowns. “You have a library around here.” The remark earns him an unamused snort. “It’s a Gotham library; people don’t go there to read books, they go there to buy, sell and/or ingest drugs, and they tend not to be too happy with anybody who’s lingering around while they’re doing it.” Bruce feels a pang, not for the first time that night. “Jason,” he starts, before realizing he isn’t sure what to say. Jason keeps angled to watch him expectantly as he rises to deposit his napkins and bag in a nearby trashcan. “We’d like to help you,” Clark says. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Right. Just how do you plan on doing that? Because I’ve heard that before. I’ve done the whole foster care thing already, and I’m not about to go through it again.” “No,” Bruce is quick to agree. “But there are residential schools in the city. We could help you to get enrolled in one.” Jason seems taken aback by the offer. “…Why?” He asks slowly. “Well for one, because kids should be in school. You’d be provided with room and board for the duration of your time there, which would leave you with less to worry about.” He reaches out to pass Jason the second takeout bag. He’s still lingering at a distance from them. “At least think about it?” “No. I mean, like, why?” Bruce’s eyebrow raises, tugging at the material of his cowl. “What’s in this for you?” Jason continues. “Why do you even care?” “It’s our job,” Clark says. “You’re job is to beat up bad guys.” Clark smiles when Jason mimes punching someone, before saying, “Our job is to help people.” Jason purses his lips. “Don’t boarding schools cost money?” “Most of them offer scholarships,” Bruce says. “I have a few friends who are deans. I could make the necessary introductions to ensure you a place at one of their institutions.“ Jason’s arms are crossed high over his chest, and his expression is set like he’s deep in thought. “I don’t want to end up stuck somewhere where someone else is the boss of me.” “How about you at least come with us to check a couple of these places out,” Bruce suggests. “Just see how you feel about them. No commitment.” Jason’s nose scrunches up. “Where exactly are these places?” He asks. “It varies,” Bruce says. “All within the city.” They watch the boy chew on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Just to see,” he says eventually. Bruce nods. “I’m not getting into a car with you,” Jason adds. “We can take the bus,” Clark offers. Jason raises an eyebrow at that, and his mouth quirks almost into a smile. “Batman and Superman are gonna ride on Gotham’s shitty public transit?” “Why not?” Clark asks. “… Okay,” Jason says, still plainly unconvinced. “Let’s meet back here,” Bruce suggests. “Tomorrow?” Jason takes a minute, but eventually starts to nod. “Sure,” he says. “Why not.” They part ways after Clark disposes of his empty bag. The heroes return to their car.

While they’re driving back Clark says, “I know that look.” Bruce pauses to take stock of his own expression, and makes sure to neutralize anything on his face that might be out of the ordinary. Clark continues, unbothered by the lack of response. “It’s your ‘I’m already deeply emotionally invested in this kid’ look.” Bruce hums noncommittally. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” Clark adds. Bruce doesn’t either, but that’s par for the course at this point.

Part Two

#batman #superbat #superman #clark kent #bruce wayne #jason todd #dc comics #my writing #batfam #batfamily #dc #haven't shared any of my writing anywhere in a while but I'm desperately craving validation so here we are

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splintergirl13 · 3 years

Note

So here is a little head cannon I thought of while reading your fan fic.

What if herobrine never had/celebrated his birthday so he forgot when it was, so Steve and Alex pick a day and celebrate his birthday with him. (P.s. sorry I have horrific grammer)

I liked this idea so much I made a little drabble under the read more :3 I hope it is worthy of such an great headcanon! Thank you so much for the ask! It fills me with joy to hear that people are thinking about my story lol <3. And don't worry. Grammar is hard and doesn't make any sense. I feel your pain

Before we dive in: this takes place pretty earlier into Steve and Brine becoming friends. So they are just starting to pine. Not in a relationship yet. Alex and Brine are still a little wary of each other but have come to accept that they are stuck with each other.

I'd say this is rated teen for just some small strong language lol

The Birthday Brine

It was a hot, lazy summer afternoon. Too nice to spend down in the mines. But a little too warm to do any strenuous activities.

So Alex and Steve decided to go on down to the small river they frequented on days like today. A secluded area where the water pooled deep enough to swim. And, of course, Herobrine tagged along. As was becoming more of the norm these days.

Steve was lying comfortably in the shade of a few trees on the bank of the river. Legs in the water; small waves lapped up to his knees as the water went by. Arms crossed behind his head. His shirt was off and laid over his eyes, shutting out any of the light that filtered through the leaves. Not really dozing off, but close to it.

Herobrine was similarly relaxing. He lay on his belly; balanced precariously on a nearby tree that had fallen over the river. Looking like a big cat lounging about in the direct sun. Soaking up the rays. One hand was draped down to the side, touching the cool water.

Alex was the only one fully in the river. She was a little upstream, floating on her back. She had taken off her pants, leaving them on the shore, and let her long green shirt cover her lower half. Every once in a while she would swim back to her original place as the current took her down towards Herobrine.

The trio had been chatting absentmindedly. Talking about anything, really. Steve ranted humorously about his pickaxe making a squeaking sound. Alex discussed way too many of the current happenings in town. Even Herobrine brought up that a dragonfly had landed on his shoulder. Which had the trio all staring for a bit before it flew off and they went back to their current positions.

It wasn't until a certain question came to Alex’s mind that the peace of the scene was disturbed.

"Hey Sparky." The adventurer asked. "...How old are you?"

Herobrine took a while to answer. Seeming to think through the question slowly. Finally he asked without opening his eyes. "Why?"

"Just curious." Alex shrugged, swimming a little.

The demon shifted. Now peaking over to look at Steve. It was like the miner could tell that he was being looked at because he lifted his shirt to look back questioningly.

Herobrine spoke up. "When was the last time I respawned? Four months ago?"

Steve frowned. "Yes. More like three. You fell through a roof, remember?"

"Right, right." Herobrine moved his hand up out of the water. "Terribly made and rusty old structure. Glad it forced a respawn. Tetanus is not fun even with healing powers."

"Why is this relevant?" Alex asked impatiently.

"I'm 28." Herobrine said immediately.

Alex sat up in the water. Causing a bit of a ruckus amongst some fish that had gotten close. "No you're not!"

"Yes I am." Herobrine turned his attention to her. She shuddered ever so slightly under his scrutinizing stare. "Every time I die, I respawn back to the same age at which I turned immortal."

Alex crossed her hands over her chest. "Okay, well that's only technically. I meant, like, if you count ALL the years you've been alive."

"I have no fucking clue, Alex." Herobrine rolled his head to the otherside of the tree to ignore her. Yet continued to talk. "Time loses all meaning when you're immortal. Not to mention I was trapped in the nether for most of that time. So it's even harder to tell."

"What's your best guess?" Steve asked, now curious as well.

And the head came back around. Looking at Steve. The demon wouldn't ignore the miner. He bit his lip, eyes trailing towards the water. "I dunno... maybe a few centuries... a millennia or so..."

"Old." Steve clarified. Seeing that the demon was struggling a little.

"Yeah... old." Herobrine scowled.

"So, what, do we have to, like, wait until you live a year to celebrate your birthday?" Alex giggled. "No wonder you don't remember it. It would never be your birthday based on that criteria."

Herobrine scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah." Steve added, putting the shirt back over his eyes. "Come to think of it, when is your birthday, Brine?"

"You want to know the exact date I was born?" Herobrine sat up now, clearly confused. "Fuck... I don't know. I didn't even keep track of days back then. I just survived. It wasn't until I met... my brother that we talked about days. And he was able to do some weird 'code calculation' as he called it to figure out my true age. But we didn't really care about that. None of us counted in the aether. None of us wanted to count. When you have endless time you tend not to care. It's a depressing chore."

"So none of you celebrated your birthday?" Alex asked.

"Why would you celebrate your birth?" Herobrine growled. "Existence is a curse."

"That's why we have to celebrate!" Alex exclaimed. "It helps us mortals to forget about our fleeting existence."

"Yeah!" Steve enthusiastically raised a fist to the sky in agreement.

"Like the aether needed another reason to celebrate..." Herobrine grumbled, flopping back down on the tree. "The amount of bullshit dances I had to get dressed up for was astronomical."

"So you really have never had a birthday, huh?" Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised.

"Nope." Herobrine said, popping the p and settling back on the tree. Thinking that was the end of the conversation.

But Steve and Alex had other plans.

"Bro you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You think we have enough time today?"

"Sure why not? We were already planning on going into town together."

"Then we better hurry."

"What are you two talking about?" Herobrine muttered. The siblings were getting out of the water and putting back on their clothes.

"We're going to throw you a birthday party!" Steve smiled over at him.

Herobrine almost fell off his branch.

"W-what? Why?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, if you don't know what day your birthday is, it might as well be any day. And since we are already all together and don't have any plans for the rest of the evening... why not?"

Herobrine teleported off his tree and stood next to the two. "You really don't need to-"

"Too late, it's happening." Alex smiled. Starting to walk off. Not putting on her shoes as she walked through the increasingly tall grass.

"Go wait in the nether and come back around sunset!" Steve pushed on his back excitedly. As if he could shove him through a portal that wasn't there.

"Why?"

"We are gonna surprise you!"

"Oh. Yippee. Surprise." Herobrine did not mask his unenthusiasm.

"It'll be fun, I promise." Steve said as he stopped pushing and went to go join Alex.

Herobrine was left alone and very confused as to what had just happened. He blinked up at the setting sun and winced. He wouldn't know the correct time in the nether. So he decided to go back to his tree branch and relax until the time came. He had no idea what was in store for him. But he didn't try to think too hard about it. If he didn't like it he could always teleport away.

All this talk of aether and age had his head buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. He tried to will them away and think of nothing instead. Watching as the river flowed beneath him. The dragonfly landed back on his hands.

It was just after sunset when Herobrine was walking up to Steve's small house and knocking on the door. Steve was adamant about him knocking. As Herobrine had the tendency to just teleport into a location, unannounced. There was the sound of muffled talking as well as a wonderful smell of something cooking in the furnace.

He heard the miner walk towards the door, he recognized his footsteps easily. Much different than Alex’s.

Steve cracked open the door. "Herobrine, you have perfect timing! We are just finishing up."

Herobrine tried to move forward but Steve closed the door more. He smiled, shyly. "Er. You gotta close your eyes."

"... Why?"

Steve smiled wider. "It's all part of the process."

So Herobrine huffed and closed his eyes. Steve took him by the hand. Leading him inside. Herobrine could feel his heartbeat where they connected. The miner was excited. So Herobrine was excited.

He was led into the house and then Steve stopped and walked over to join where he could sense Alex.

"Surprise!" They both yelled.

Herobrine stood there with his eyes closed. Face oozing confusion.

"Open your eyes now, Brine." Steve whispered loudly to him.

"Oh." And he did. He blinked and took in the sight.

The inside of the house was decorated with a few colored strings on the ceiling and what seemed to be little torches everywhere else. It was very simple and yet very pretty.

"Do you like it?" Alex asked.

"We didn't have too much time to decorate so we made due with what we had." Steve said. "Probably not as fancy as your aether parties."

"No." Herobrine smiled. "But I like this better." The aether parties were always decorated with too much. This was nice and made Herobrine feel cozy.

Alex gestured to the table, patting the chair to sit down. "Since it's pretty late we figured we'd just do a birthday dinner. Steve said you would eat if we made you food."

Herobrine nodded. Glad he hadn't had anything to eat for a while. He wasn't the biggest fan of eating. Steve had been reintroducing it to him slowly. The miner was an excellent cook.

"Good!" Alex smiled. Steve sat next to Herobrine at the table. "I handled dinner and Steve handled the most important part of a birthday, the dessert!"

"It all smells nice." Herobrine commented politely. It did. He was actually excited to eat.

Alex disappeared into the kitchen. Preparing plates for them all. Steve and Herobrine shared a look. Both smiling, somewhat uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. It didn't last long as Alex came out with two plates, setting it down in front of them.

The meal consisted of roasted corn, slathered in butter, some sort of shredded pork on bread with some sweet sauce, and a cold potato salad. Steve instantly dug in. Probably hungry from all the work they had been doing. Herobrine waited for Alex to return with her own plate before starting to pick at the food. It wasn't long before he was eating more sloppily than Steve. Alex apologized, saying she wanted to make something more special like a smoked biscuit but Herobrine wasn't sure why she was sorry. It was all delicious. And Herobrine found himself wanting to eat the entire plate. It was the perfect meal on the warm night.

The house was filled with the delightful sounds of eating. None of them talked very much. Not needing to. Just enjoying each other’s company. And the food! They were all very invested in the food.

Once they were done, Herobrine was tempted to ask for more. But he remembered that there was still dessert to eat. He started to try to clean up his plate. But Steve stopped him immediately. "Ah, ah. No dishes when it's your birthday."

"Hmm. This birthday business keeps getting better." Herobrine smirked at him.

Steve disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates filled with two generous slices of homemade chocolate cake.

He set them down in front of Alex and his own seats. "We have a special slice for you, Herobrine. Hold on."

Steve rushed away and walked slowly back with a similar piece of cake. But this one had a very tiny torch stuck in the middle of it. Herobrine blinked. Huh. Strange.

"It's a candle." Steve explained. "It's a tradition to have some on your cake. We only had this old one." He set the on fire cake in front of him. Herobrine enjoyed the fire flare. "Usually you have a candle for every year you've been alive."

"But that would've set the house on fire." Alex snickered.

Herobrine rolled his eyes and tried to grab his fork. But Alex stopped him. "Wait! We have to sing to you!"

"Er, no thanks." That seemed silly. He did not want to be sung to.

Steve made a face. "I don't like that part either. I think we should skip it."

"We have to! It's tradition!" Alex wrapped her elbow around Steve’s neck. "Come on, Stevie. One time!"

"Alright. Alright." He caved easily. And they began.

Herobrine sat awkwardly as the two sang a little song. Saying his name. Herobrine had never heard Steve sing. It was nice. He had a pleasant voice. He thought the man should sing more. He hummed a lot but never truly sang.

Once they were done. Alex said. "Now you make a wish and blow out the candle."

"A wish? Wish for what?"

"For anything." Steve added. "But you have to wish in your head. And don't tell anyone or your wish won't come true."

"Like a curse?"

"Yeah kinda. But it's just for fun."

The demon chewed on his lip. Seeming to think about it. He nodded eventually. "Okay. I've made my wish."

"Now blow out the candle to complete the spell." Alex joked. Steve nudged her.

Herobrine looked at the small torch on the cake and willed the fire away. It went out.

Alex and Steve stared. Alex giggled. "Guess there's more than one way to skin an ocelot."

"Why would you-" Herobrine blinked.

"It's an expression." Steve laughed, sitting down and picking up his fork to eat his piece of cake. "Ignore her and dig in while the cake is still warm."

Herobrine did, setting the small torch- candle aside and picking up his fork to eat. The cake looked moist. Fresh. And smelled absolutely delicious. His mouth was watering before he even put the treat in his mouth.

When he took a bite he almost moaned. "H-holy fuck." He quickly took another bite.

Alex giggled. "Never had a Steve-made cake have you?"

"Steve, you should stop cooking everything and just make cake from now on." Herobrine had almost finished his piece already. It was just so damn good. He couldn't stop.

"Then it wouldn't be special." Steve chuckled. Looking happy that they both seemed to be enjoying his cake.

"Can I have more?" Herobrine asked, frosting definitely smeared all over his face, unabashedly.

Steve and Alex howled at that. The demon just looked so different from how they normally saw him. It was nice. And also hilarious.

Herobeine got a second slice and sat back, looking full. The demon didn't usually eat so it was a lot all at once. Totally worth it though.

"Present time!" Alex jumped up from the table as Steve moved the dishes into the kitchen.

"Present time?" Herobrine parroted.

"You get presents on your birthday!" Alex walked over to grab two things that had been set aside on a coffee table. "From everyone who comes to the party."

Alex handed Steve something and walked back to the table to give Herobrine a rectangle that looked like a book wrapped in paper. Herobrine took it confused. "Er, thanks?" He held it in his hands.

"You gotta open it dude!" Alex said excitedly.

"Open it?"

"Yeah tear open the paper!"

"Oh." Herobrine, a demon of destruction, ironically opened the book very carefully. Not wanting to damage it.

He held the book up once it was unwrapped. It was, indeed, a book. Not too hard to guess correctly.

"It's a book of modern day phrases." Alex explained. Tapping the cover. She smirked. "I know that you have some trouble with some of our more modern hip lingo."

Herobrine lifted an eyebrow at her. He flipped to a random page. "There's more than one way to skin an ocelot? Oh. I get your 'joke' now."

"See. You're learning already." She snickered. Steve smiled too.

Herobrine looked confused. But not unappreciative. He waved his hand, tucking the book away into his inventory. "Er, thanks. I will read the rest later."

"No problem!" She giggled. She then pushed Steve forward. "Go ahead, your turn."

Steve had a paper package tied up in butcher's twine behind his back. He coughed and walked forward, handing Herobrine the parcel.

The demon took it. Knowing what to do now, he tore into the paper. Revealing what was inside.

He paused when he realized what it was after pulling all the paper off and letting it float to the ground.

"It's... your cloak." Herobrine said. Not giving away any emotion. Steve seemed to droop a little. Expecting him to be a little happier. Alex nudged the miner. They shared a look. Steve rolled his eyes. He walked closer to the demon, touching the cloak in his hands.

"I knew it would already fit you. And there wasn't enough time to get you a new one made. I just know how much you like to borrow it from me when it gets colder." Steve ran his fingers along the cloak. Pointing out some stitching on the green material. "I sewed up all the holes so it won't be as drafty. And-" He tapped the button that held the cloak together. "I replaced the old latch with a golden one I got from town today. I know you said you like to wear a little gold in the nether for piglin respect or... whatever." The miner let go of the cloak and backed up, rubbing his head awkwardly.

Herobrine stared at the green gloak. Rubbing the material in his fingers.

"If... if you don't like-"

"I love it." Herobrine almost whispered. Sounding so genuine it made Steve blush and Alex smile. "It's perfect."

"O-oh." Steve scratched his head again. "Good. I'm glad." He smiled, looking away. Desperately trying to hide his blush. He had gone bright red. And Herobrine wasn't helping.

The demon stood instantly and put the cloak around his body. He had worn it before. But it looked different now. Like it was his now. It was truly his.

Herobrine looked up at Steve. "This is... the greatest gift I've ever been given." He didn't smile but his glowing eyes said it all. He was absolutely telling the truth. "Thank you, Steven."

The miner stared back. Smiling to the side and tilting his head. Embarrassed but screaming on the inside in happiness.

Alex had to butt in. Not liking the way the two were looking at each other and getting a little protective of Steve. "Pfft. Thanks a lot there, Briney boy. Glad my gift meant nothing."

Herobrine blinked. Processing the words. And then realized. "Oh, no, sorry Alex. Thank you as well."

"Yeah whatever." Alex nudged him with her fist, walking past him. She then let out a yawn. "Well. I think I'm all birthday partied out. Mind if I crash on your couch, Stevie? It's too late to walk home."

"Sure I'll get you some blankets." Steve mimicked the yawn. His eyes looked tired. They did do a lot to put the party together for him. They deserved a rest. "Happy Birthday, Brine."

"Thank you." Herobrine nodded. "Thank you both. This was... enjoyable."

"See our traditions aren't so bad." Alex said, flopping down on the couch.

"I do believe I've judged it too early." Herobrine nodded. "You do this every year?"

"Yep. And you get to do the planning and gift giving to us when it's our birthdays. No party is exactly the same." Alex nodded. "I think planning is actually more fun than celebrating your own birthday."

"Oh. Well I look forward to that. You will have to remind me when the time comes. Time is... difficult for me."

"Of course, dude." Steve produced some blankets from the closet. Herobrine sensed it was time to make his leave. He headed for the door.

"Thank you again." He said a little awkwardly. "I will uh, see you both tomorrow."

"Sounds good!" "Bye!" The siblings said.

And with Herobrine out the door. Steve and Alex looked at each other.

"I think that went well." Steve said.

"I think you owe me money for not making a single birthday suit joke." Alex said back. He threw the blankets over her head as she giggled.

"Goodnight Alex!" He went to his bedroom, trying to hide his blush. "Put out the candles before you sleep."

"I'm just saying, Stevie! That would've been a better gift if you-"

"Goodnight Alex!!"

Herobrine stood just outside the door. He wiggled his shoulders a little. Feeling the soft weight of the cloth around his shoulders. He smiled. Feeling warm inside and out. And teleported off.

#herosteve #fluff pining and stupidity #ask #jaraemonfox #fic #writng

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last-operator-standing · 3 years

Text

Toll of the Bell

Chapter 1 - Ashes to Ashes

> Ao3

> Chapter 2 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, blood & injuries, anxiety

Words: 2k

A/N: This follows the post-ending for my Bell. For the sake of the story, Bell saved Lazar and was forced to leave Park behind, but she still lived. Her explanation will appear in ch 2 ;u; Originally I wasn’t gonna share this but uhhhh here we are! I wasn’t overly happy with the ending of this chapter, but c’est la vie, friends. ;u;

"I'm sorry it turned out this way."

Why? When he tries to speak there's only a pathetic gurgle as the blood spills past his lips.

"I hope you understand."

I don't! Why? I told you the truth! His chest feels tight, like it's being crushed under an invisible force. Was it always this hard to breathe? To think? He can't be sure anymore. So why?! Why..? His fingers are stained in crimson when he lifts his hand from his chest. Why did you shoot me? The words won’t come out. Trembling, his arm falls back to his side, unable to hold it up any longer.

"It was never personal, Bell."

There's a pressure in Bell's right hand as Adler presses something into his palm. His fingers twitch against cool metal - his gun? - but he doesn't have the strength to lift it. He can only stare up at the soft blue sky as his chest burns and he dyes the ground red.

"It wasn't meant to be like this."

I trusted you. Then again, he also trusted Arash Kadivar. Look where that got me. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

There's a darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision. Panic builds and it only makes the desperate burning in his lungs worse. He struggles to force air past the fluid. A terrible bubbling resonates in his chest and Bell idly wonders if he'll drown in his own blood before he bleeds out. I bet this makes you happy. Adler's face slides into view when he kneels beside Bell: His features are blurry and the colors somehow don't feel right. But he's not smiling. He almost looks.. sad.

A hand slides against Bell's cheek, pressing gently, tilting his head a bit to the right and allowing him a clearer view of his would-be murderer. It's easier now to see how Adler's face is pinched downwards in a grimace. Adler stares down at his dying protégé just as much as he stares back, once vibrant emerald eyes now dull and swimming with uncertainty and betrayal as he teeters on the edge of oblivion.

Bell wishes he had something else to dwell on in his final moments. Something that was his and not the manufactured memories pounded into his head by Adler and his trigger phrase. He tries to think back to before the CIA, before MK-Ultra, before Perseus. All he comes up with is Adler's smug smile as he wakes him in Vietnam. Fake. How Sims and he recovered the Russian comms log during Operation Fracture Jaw. Fake. Fending off the VC attack after his bird is knocked from the sky. All of it, fake.

The anguish of knowing there's nothing left of him- the real him- brings a burning to his eyes. Who am I? Bell doesn't realize he's crying until a gloved thumb brushes a tear from his cheek.

"Hey."

Bell's cold. The jacket does nothing to keep him warm. His limbs feel impossibly heavy. Any trail of thought he has slips between his fingers before he has time to complete it. No matter how much he blinks the world stays blurry and he's losing the energy to keep his eyes open. He tries to focus on Adler's face but he's nothing more than a tan smudge against a blue sky.

Bell's so, so tired...

"You did good, kid."

Deep down Bell knew it was always going to end like this. He was never truly part of the team. That was apparent in the way Sims refused to acknowledge him (didn't their time together in Vietnam mean anything?) or in the pitying look Mason would cast his way when he thought Bell wasn't looking (like he somehow understood..)

Above all he knew from the way Hudson spoke about him.

Bell? Don't get me started...

Are you taking him into the KGB with you? Are you crazy ?

If we can't control the asset, we end the asset.

Bell's eyes flutter close and they don't open again. The warmth at his side, Adler's warmth, is only there a moment longer before it pulls away and is gone, leaving Bell alone with only the abyss.

Dying isn't what Bell ever imagined it to be. He feels light, like he's floating amongst the clouds. The coldness has long since seeped away to a numbness and he forgot about the hard concrete below him. Bell can't hear anything, can't feel anything. The abyss swallows him whole. He bathes in its darkness and floats in its silence, drifting through oblivion.

Bell doesn't expect to ever open his eyes again. Without medical intervention, there was no logical way he would survive the bullet in his chest. This makes it all the more jarring when he's dragged into consciousness. He simply lays there at first, the numbness creeping back in and replacing the blissful void of nothingness he felt while unconscious.

It's dark when he finally musters the energy to squint open his eyes. Gone is the calm cliffside in which Adler shot him at. Instead, he's in an unfamiliar room with faded green walls and blankets around him that are far too stiff and cause his aching body to itch . There's railings on either side of him, the kind you'd find on a hospital bed or to prevent children from rolling off the side at night. Voices resonate just behind a closed door. They're hushed and aggressive but Bell can't make out what they're saying. When they fall silent the light beneath the door flicks off and he's left with only a digital clock for illumination.

Bell drifts in and out of awareness. He can't keep track of the passing time. On one occasion there's movement at his bedside and voices filling his ears.

"..ell? B…?"

"Is.. wake..?"

"Damn.. all, he… again.."

"Bell?"

When he looks up, their face is too blurry to make out. Someone joins them at his side, but they are too fuzzy to see as well. Their voices sound like they're speaking underwater; too far and too jumbled to make out. Moments later he's unconscious once more.

It's night again once Bell is able to stay awake properly. He feels heavy but warm and the room spins when he tries to look around. It's not until he tries to raise a hand to calm the spinning that he realizes something is wrong. He only manages to lift his arm a few inches before something stops him. Confused, he tries tugging a few times. A metallic jingle fills his ears. Looking over confirms his suspicions: He's handcuffed to the railing. Swallowing down the building panic, Bell tries the other arm only to find it just as restrained to the opposite railing.

He tries to keep calm. He really does. But it's all too much for him; he should be dead, he knows that. Not chained up inside an unfamiliar room with no idea how or when he got here, or who brought him here in the first place. A memory forces itself to the front of his mind.

Bell woke up to voices. "I gotta admit," the first voice, American, rumbled, drawing his attention. It took some effort but Bell managed to lull his head towards the speaker. Two individuals peered down at him. "I didn't expect him to recover so quickly." His limbs were restrained, preventing any movement. "He's a resilient one," the second person agreed. Bell did his best to hold back his fear and anxiety. This certainly wasn't Perseus nor the KGB, which only meant he was now in the hands of the enemy. He wouldn't let them break him.

Not again. Bell fights against his restraints as hysteria begins to take hold. I can't do this again. Losing his mind once was too much; no way he could withstand being reset a second time. A rapid beep-beep-beep fills his ears but the Russian is too fixated on freeing himself to pay it much attention. A light flips on beneath the door, encouraging him to struggle all the more.

"Bell!" The door flings open. There's hands on his shoulders. "Bell, you're safe!" He thrashes. The light flicks on. "What's going on?" The hands leave Bell's shoulders and move to the sides of his head, forcing him to turn wide-eyed toward a familiar face. "Bell, hey, calm down," Lazar sooths.

Bell falls still from exhaustion. His chest heaves with each rapid breath. Eyes wide, he stares between Lazar at his side and Park, who stands tense at the door.

"Bell-"

"Lazar, what's going on-"

"Park, not now-"

"I knew we couldn't trust him."

"Park, please! You're not helping." The MI6 agent scoffs but relents, leaving Lazar alone with Bell.

Bell trembles with a fear like he's never felt before. "Bell," Lazar tries again with a weak smile. "It's alright. You're safe. We're at an MI6 safehouse. I'm, uh… sorry. About the cuffs. It's the only way Park would agree.."

"How..?" Bell only manages a croak, throat tight.

"Call it a hunch," Lazar offered. "I knew something was off with Adler. Followed you guys. Got there after everything already went down. We tried to patch you up the best we could with the equipment we have here. You've been out for a few days." Bell calms himself and listens intently. The exhaustion is clear on the Russian's face.

"I just.. I feel like I owe you, Bell. You saved my life back in Cuba." Lazar sighs softly. "Park is.. weary. She thinks you'll turn on us now that you've, well," he motions awkward towards Bell. "Now that you've begun to break your programming."

Lazar's face turns serious when he stares into Bell's eyes. "I didn't think it was fair to cut you out of the picture before you had the choice to decide who you really are."

The choice to decide who I really am...

The distress must be noticeable on Bell's face because Lazar suddenly lightens up with a smile and gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. It'll take time, but I'm sure you'll figure it out. You chose to tell the truth, you can't be all that bad, eh?"

Bell's head is a hurricane of emotion despite Lazar's teasing reassurance. Aside from his meeting with Perseus, the implanted memories, and everything that's happened to him in the past couple months, Bell knew nothing about himself. Am I righteous? Am I a terrorist? Just? Prejudice ? If he's honest with himself.. he was terrified of the truth. It was so much easier to be told who he was, to do what he was told, to put his trust in the team and his life in Adler's hands.

Adler.

"Get some rest." Lazar's voice shakes Bell from his thoughts. "We can talk more tomorrow, sort everything out. Don't worry about Park- she's suspicious but she wouldn't hurt you." Somehow, Bell isn't entirely convinced. He doesn't comment on it.

".. Spasiba, Lazar. For saving me."

Lazar pauses at the door and turns. His surprise turns into another small, genuine smile. "No problem, Bell."

Alone once again in the dark, Bell takes a shaky breath. He doesn't realize he's clenching his hands until he feels the ache. It takes some time but he relaxes the best he can and takes stock of his condition. Head throbbing, chest burning, mind buzzing with uncertainty and raw with emotion, but undeniable alive .

"It's always been for the greater good."

There's a feeling he can't quite shake. It brings apprehension. Bell's not sure what will happen next. Will his would-be rescuers turn him in? Will Adler come back to finish the job? Will I ever get my memory back? Many questions burn in the Russian's head and not many answers come to mind. What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Whoever he was before Bell may never know. It doesn't matter; that person is dead. The CIA reinvented him and gave life to 'Bell'. Now he has to live with that. Whether or not they like it they gave him a job. Find Perseus and stop him.

He found Perseus once.

He'd find him again.

#cod cold war #russell adler #cod bell #male bell #bocw #lazar azoulay #helen park #i cannot be stopped #jay if (when) you find this #im not sorry #multichapter #fanfic

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dancingthesambaa · 3 years

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 6

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 6: And So It Begins

“I’m back,” MK tiredly said as he dragged his form out of the blazing sun and into the cool restaurant, “orders delivered, traffic long and people angry, but food is delivered.”

“Great, but you still have another delivery,” Pigsy replied as his back was turned.

“Just one,” he grinned, “compared to the other ten this will be a piece-,”

He slammed down 30 orders down in front of him on the already bustling counter.

“Of cake,” he deflated as he saw the monumental amount of food. “What the-Are we feeding an entire town?!”

“Close. Party, though I should have charged their ungrateful asses extra for the rush order,” he growled out, “who gives an hour warning Huh?!”

“Apparently them,” he groaned as he picked up and carried the whole load into the car.

“And when you get back, there are a dozen more orders to take care of,” Pigsy called out.

“Got it bossman,” he yelled out, then he slammed the door closed and he sat up straight with a grin, “alright this won’t be so bad.”

“BEEF? BEEF?!! I WANTED MISO! GET IT RIGHT YOU STUPID DRIVER! The voice yelled out at MK as the two stood at the doorway.

“I’m sorry but-,” he winced as he was cut off by the rude woman screech.

“You better be sorry! I could have your job for this big of a screw up! You are nothing!”

“Technically I just delivered your food,” he whispered to himself.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing!” He put on his best service smile, “I’m very sorry about this, how about I take your food back so that I can-.”

Splat

MK watched as the woman threw down her food in a fit of rage.

“There’s your damn food, now pick it up and get me a new one,” she spat out.

MK looked down at the pile of food that Pigsy put his sweat and blood into slowly dripping off the stone stairs. He took a deep breath as he put his hand in his pocket to subtly squeeze the stress ball and looked at the woman.

“I’m not cleaning that up,” he deadpans and walks back to the car.

“What?!”

“Also,” he rolled down his window when he got in the car, “if you would like to order for a party, next time call ahead of time.” He then quickly drove off until he could no longer hear the yells of the angry woman.

He rode until he reached the grocery store, parked at the edges of the lot where there were barely any cars, unbuckled his seat belt, and laid his head on top of the wheel.

“I. Hate. People. Sometimes.” He lightly banged his head with each word then he leaned back and took out the ball and squeezed it a few times. “I really do.”

He likes to think of himself as a pretty optimistic person, after having his whole life turned around and learning things can get better, he likes to think that the world can be good. But days like these, people like those, make him really put that side of him to the test and today he very much failed that. He should be glad that he didn’t go off on her, like what Pigsy did when some dude tried to scam him or Mei when she is feeling very competitive over some a-holes, but at the same time that sounds amazing.

He squeezed the ball a little tighter.

“I really want to see Dad right now,” he muttered to himself. It would be so easy, just one yell to him and he would be over in less than a second. “I really want him right now…but I made a promise to myself that I would do this without him.”

So he took a deep breath, lifted his head, put on his music, put away his rainbow stress ball, and slowly began his drive back to Pigsy restaurant.

It was during that drive back that he got a call, “Hello?”

“Hey MK, it’s me,” he stopped as he heard Pigsy's voice, he had a feeling he knows what this is about.

“Heyyy Pigsy, I’m almost at the store,” he tried and failed, to sound casual.

“I just got off a call with a very rude customer who said that you threw down her food when she was being oh so kind,” he bluntly said, “even mentioned about assaulting her.”

“That is so not how any of that went down!” He immediately said, “she yelled at me for saying that I made her food wrong and I told her that it can be redone, but she decided to instead throw down all of that food herself and told me to clean it up! Who does that?! And all of this was after she put her hand all through that food, which is so gross by the way, I mean other people are eating that, cause I know she ain’t-,” he was cut off by Pigsy chuckles.

“You don’t need to explain anything, I know you for far too long to even think that you would put too much salt in someone's food let alone throwing it down on the ground.”

“Oh,” he calmed down as he released the tension from the wheel, “that’s good.”

“Yeah, I told it to her straight just exactly how I felt about her being an utter ass to not only myself but my employees. Let’s just say that she was not happy about that and threaten to sue,” he could almost hear him shrug.

“What no!” He tried to stand up, only to realize he was still in the car and he was still buckled up. “I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be, cause jokes on her the world we live in has become pretty up to date with security and, more importantly, security cameras,” he said with a grin, “I don’t think she’s gonna get a single cent when everything that went down was all on video.”

MK let a smile spread across his face, bless technology and all its glory. “That’s good.”

“It sure is. Do you want to take a breather when you come back? I know that woman was more than a handful that what you're used to,” he asked in concern.

“Nope,” he cheerfully said, “I am A-Ok! Just get those next orders ready for me so I can deliver!”

“Well if you're certain, get your ass back here on the double,” he said, but the teenager could tell it was more playful, “we got orders waiting to be delivered.”

“On my way!” He saluted to no one and hung up. “Alright! Let’s get a move on!”

‘Make sure to add the cohesive before the mixing,’ the voice silently thought to himself.

“It would be so easy just to make that jump, hell my youngest kit sister can make that and she’s not even a month old,” a voice bragged.

‘Combine the Feins roots with the Elia petals first to dilute the solution.’

“All I’m saying is that if you try to jump off the cliff of perils then I sure as hell am not catching you,” another voice deadpanned.

“Nahhh I would be fine.”

��…dice the Oran berries and Pecha then add when the next stage is ready.’

“If you count being splattered into tiny little pieces fine, then, by all means, go ahead,” another voice sighed.

‘Make sure that the color is a deep orange hue and not dark yellow, that can-,’

“Ye o little faith.”

“No, you are of little sanity. Even my younger gremlins know better,” she shot back.

‘That can easily violate the substance,’

“But they don’t have the certain skills like I do,” they bragged.

‘…leading to a-,’

“It still wouldn’t be a wise thing to do,” a deep voice pointed out.

‘Leads to a-,’ his vial cracked in his hands as he was once again interrupted.

“No, but it would be fun-.”

“I swear,” everyone turned to face the irritated monkey, “to all things good in this world and the next, if you dumbasses don’t shut the fuck up in the next five seconds I will make the Piñata fiasco at the Boiling Isles look like a god damn nap compared to what I’m gonna do to you.”

“Sorry, were we disturbing you,” Yanyu cheekily said.

“You little-”

“Awwww I’m soo sorry,” Daiyu mocked.

“I swear-”

“We didn’t mean to interrupt your monologue,” Minsheng smirked, “you know it kinda reminds me of Flicker when you do that.”

“That’s it!” He slammed down his ingredients, opened his drawers, and took out a roll of duct tape, “come here you little bastards!” He yelled out as he began to chase down the three annoyances.

“Same as usual,” Bohai sighed as he drank his tea.

“One would think not to mess with Mac when he’s like this,” Ahmed commented.

“Especially when he’s in his mood.”

“Especially that.”

“Now shut it,” he proudly said as he sat on top of his third victim.

“Hey hey!” Daiyu struggled to break free, “we were trying to lighten your mood fuzzball.”

“By annoying the shit out of me,” he growled as he taped her beak shut. “Fat chance, anyone else,” he looks over to his other two remaking friends.

“I say nothing,” the jellyfish put his tentacles up in surrender.

“While they may have been a bit well-,”

“Fucking annoying,” the monkey bluntly said.

“Yes that, they did have a purpose to their madness,” the lion pointed out.

“What? What could they possibly want badly enough to annoy the absolute fuck out of me?!”

“You have empty bird nest syndrome.”

“…what?”

“I said-”

“I heard you the first time!” Macaque interrupted, “I do not have that! I am use to MK not being home day to day, so why the hell would you thi-,”

“For days,” Yanyu said once she ripped the tape off her mouth, “but not for longer than a week.”

“Same difference!”

“Nah pal it ain’t,” the bunny demon said as they chewed on their own tape, “I can see it as bright as day, you have been extra moody and hella sad these past couple of days. It’s just like mum, whenever one decides to leave the warren, she gets all glum and broody for days.”

“I am not broody!” His tail swished violently.

“But you do miss him,” Ahmed stated.

“I don’t-”

“And it’s okay if you do.”

“I don’t miss him, I can visit anytime,” he stated.

“You still miss him being there, being next to you,” the lone human gave his ponytail a playful tug and sat next to Mac, who was still sitting on top of the tied-up vulture. “Take it from a big sister, when Shu moved out to live in the dorms I was so happy for him, but as time went on I noticed that I didn’t hear his off pitch singing in the afternoon nor did I hear his voice amongst my gremlins over who gets the last brownie. I didn’t miss him, hell I could video chat with him anytime, but I missed his presence, you know.”

Macaque just gave her a hard look before sighing, “He used to hum to himself whenever he was bored,” he admitted as he got off his friend and slumped down next to her.

Yanyu just patted his shoulder as he continued.

“I know I can just visit him, but my kid is growing up, he’s learning to stand on his own and he should have his own life separate from me.”

“Yeah imma stop you there,” Sheng rolled his eyes, “you are being one over dramatic monkey right now if you think that just because he’s doing his own thing, doesn’t mean that he doesn't have time for you. Hell, you are the one demon he will always have time for no matter what.”

“But-”

“Ain’t no buts about it fuzzbrain,” Daiyu squawked out once she feared the tape off, “your hatching adores the shit out of you and if you don’t think he won’t spend time with you then you are dead wrong.”

“He should have that time to himself, he is just starting out all on his own…without me…,” he slumped in depression, but quickly shot up due to a shocking touch, “OW! FUCKING WHY BOHAI!”

“You're being an idiot,” he smugly said as he lowered his tendril.

“Thanks,” Yanyu nodded to him, “and he’s right. I know that this whole thing won’t end with this so here’s what we’re gonna do. The six of us are going to go to Qián city.”

“…why the fuck are we going to the underwater city of Shanghai?” He incredulously looked at her.

“Cause you seriously need to relax.”

“I don’t-”

“You spent most of your time in the garden or prepping medicine that you don’t need,” Ahmed calmly said as he cleaned up the mess that Mac made.

“…you may have a point, but I don’t really feel like I should leave, what if MK or Mei happens to call?” He said.

“Well one, I know damn well that your hearing exceeds that city's borders,” Sheng points out.

“Okay true.”

“And second, we have the beauty of phones, which allows people to fall from far away,” Yanyu slowly told him as if he was a child, “I taught you this in one of our first lessons.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he muttered, “but I don’t-”

“You either go willingly or Kit Kat over here is going to drag you,” she pointed to Ahmed.

“He wouldn’t-”

“I really would,” he had to stop a smile at the utter betrayal in the monkey's face.

“I could beat your ass again,” he grumbled.

“You very well could,” he agreed, “but then you would also have to go against everyone else and they will happily drag both you and me off.”

“Fine!” He throws his hand in the air.

“Got ‘em!” Sheng high-fived Yanyu.

“Told you he would cave in eventually,” the vulture grinned.

“But we are going there to strictly relax, that means no explosions, arsons, paralyzing, hacking, or prison riots.”

“What about stealing and graffitiing,” the bluenette raised her hand.

“If there assholes, be my fucking guest, but your ass better not get caught.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be more stealthy than sneaking into the police hub to get rid of the evidence,” she cockily stated.

“What?”

“What.”

“…you know what the less I know the better.”

“Good choice, so let’s get packing!” She excitedly said as she, Daiyu, Minsheng, and Bohai exited the infirmary.

“So are you gonna tell them that the game dealers there are more than likely to scam them before or after they get robbed?” Ahmed curiously asked.

“After, they need a lesson on not annoying the fuck out of me when I’m working,” he gave a mischievous grin.

“Quite rude of you,” he grinned.

“But you're smiling too.”

Ahmed chuckled lightly as the two left the infirmary.

It was a quiet day at the restaurant, the dinner rush had just ended and all that was really left to do was wait for the store to close and clean up what’s left. The only customers inside were Mei and Tang, both of whom have long since finished eating and are currently just chatting, or laying down, with MK over the counter.

“So how’re your online classes treating you?” Mei asked.

“Great!” He perked up as he took his eyes off the creepy butterfly in the corner of the restaurant, “I’m just about finished with my general study.”

“Ooo, does that mean you finally have a major in mind,” Mei leaned in.

“No I do not.” He cheerfully stated.

All of them, including Pigsy who was listening in, facepalmed.

“Mkkk,” the nineteen year old groaned.

“I knowww,” he slumped down, “but it’s hard deciding what to do for the rest of your life.”

“Well that is okay,” the historian softly said, “you're still young, you have your whole life ahead of you. Besides, college is not for everyone.”

“Yeahhh, so how’re your classes going Mei Mei?” MK turned to his friend, “I know you been taking some of the engineering courses.”

“Ugghhh, don’t get me started,” she slumped down in her seat, “I love it, but that is seriously kicking my ass right now. If I didn’t like to make sweet ass rides then I would have totally just dropped it.”

“Let me guess, for racing,” MK said as he sprayed down the counter.

“Duh, I’m gonna be so fast that when they're only halfway, I've already passed that finish line baby!” Mei screamed.

“Shhhhh,” Tang hushed as he held his head against the cool counter, “not so loud please.”

“You okay there Tang?” Pigsy asked as he moved closer to his friend, “you’ve been like that ever since you got in.”

“Yeah, it’s just this headache has been killing me and my usual medicine isn’t doing a thing,” sighed as he leaned into the warm hand touching his head.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a fever at least,” the pig mutters.

“Do you have any coughing, sneezing, nausea, or any other symptoms?” MK curiously asked as he sat up.

“I have been feeling a bit nauseous,” he murmured.

“Sharp ringing in your ears on and off?”

“Yesss,” he groaned out.

“Hmm hold on,” MK quickly went upstairs, everyone heard faint shuffling noises before he came back down as fast as he was carrying a small baggie, “Can I use your stove and teapot?”

“Go right ahead,” Pigsy agreed.

MK gave a quick smile and they all watched him make a pot of tea, but instead of teabags, he added some of the plants that were inside the bag.

“Here you go,” MK presented the tea to the historian once it was done.

Tang hesitated for a moment before accepting the cup, “…what is it?”

“Medicine. Drink,” he gave him a wide-eyed look.

“...alright,” he shrugged his shoulders and joked, “if this kills me, just burn my corpse.”

“Drink,” MK commanded once more.

Tang drank his tea instead of retorting back and his eyes widen at the taste of it.

“Are ya dead?” Mei asked.

“Feel the poison seeping in,” the pig demon joked.

“This is really good,” he complimented MK and he began to drink more.

“Thanks, it’s Dad’s special recipe diluted when it comes to dealing with migraines,” he happily announced.

“Diluted? I can already feel my migraine already going away, how bad is his if this is diluted?” Tang asked with much concern.

MK grimace as he shared a look with Mei. He can’t help the memories all filtering in of his father lying in bed clutching onto the headphones as it tightly covered all six of his ears. There is never a pattern to when this happens, but he knew to keep a pot of tea hot and a bowl of mango or other non-citrusy fruit available on those days.

“It’s pretty bad,” was all he said.

“Oh,” both adults shared a look before Tang put on a grin as he slurped down his tea, “well this really works, what in it?”

“It’s Feverfew Tea with some Pika berries,” said MK.

“I’ve heard of Feverfew, but I don’t think Pika rings a bell,” Pigsy hummed totally missing Mei’s shocked face.

“Why I never-,”

“No, it’s not pokemon,” MK quickly shut that down before she got to her rant.

‘’Awww,” she deflated.

“It’s from Kunlun peak.”

Tang immediately choked on his tea, “AK! Did you just say Kunlun peak!”

“Yep!”

“What’s so special about that,” she glumly asks.

“Mount Kunlun is known to be a mythical mountain that hikers and historians have been searching for centuries,” Tang began, “It’s said to hold both mythical animals and plants, each having extraordinary potential within them as even the Gods from above go down there for certain herbs and items needed for their potions. It just lays there on top of the highest peak, but no person nor demon has ever had a straight map leading there and you’re telling me your Dad, Macaque, went there?!”

“He goes there a few times a year,” the teenager proudly says.

He looks down at his tea with sparkles in his eyes, “I’m drinking magic tea made from the legendary mountain,” he gave a big slurp as he inhaled it and stood up.

Pigsy eyed the drink, neither teenager knew if it was in envy or jealousy.

“But I’m impressed MK,” Mei playfully punched his shoulder, “look at you being all smart about medicine.”

“Well I hear Dad mutter on and on about different types of herbs and their properties on a day to day basis, that it eventually gets stuck in my head you know,” he joked then he paused as an interesting thought occurred to him, “wait a moment.”

They all watch MK have a silent conversation to himself, complete with waving hands, multiple facial expressions, draw a few sketches on his notepad, and finish with a final glow of his eyes as he leaped up in the air.

“That’s it!”

“What’s it?” The owner said.

“Why didn’t I think of this before!”

“Think of what before?” The historian asked.

“It was seriously in front of me this entire time!”

“MK, I swear if you don’t tell us what’s up right now I am not liable to my next actions,” Mei threatened.

“I can be a Doctor!” He leaned forward in excitement, “or at least something along those lines!”

“You can be pop’s assistant!” Mei started to get excited alongside him, “how the hell did I not think of it either?!”

“I don’t know!”

“It does suit you,” the demon agreed. He knows the kid is smart, he has seen his grades, so it’s not far fetched to assume that he can do this rigorous task. “Hope you have good study habits, I know mines was absolute garbage back in school.”

“With notecards and all,” MK hates studying, his brain goes brrr during those times, but he can’t thank Yanyu and Bohai enough for teaching him different tricks to help keep focus. “Now I’m thinking maybe of being a pharmacist, cause I don’t think I do well with surgery.”

“There are also the ones who diagnose the disease using the X-ray thingie,” she snapped her finger as she tried to remember.

“Radiologist,” Tang called out.

“Yeah that!” She pointed to him.

“Ooo that also sounds interesting,” MK and Mei continued their animated talk as both adults watched.

“It’s nice to see them so happy,” the noodle lover let out a content smile as he drank some more of his tea.

“I hear that,” Pigsy then looked at the man cup in confusion, “by the way you’ve been drinking, I thought you would have already been finished by now.”

“With my first cup yes, I’m on my third one now.”

“How in the-I didn’t even see you leave this area!”

“Magic tea is magic,” was all Tang said.

Pigsy exploded, “That doesn’t explain shit!”

“Well too bad,” he gave a loud slurp once more.

SLURPPP

“You know what, two can play that game,” the human was confused when the pig demon got up and left the room. He was no longer confused as he came back with a cup of tea in hand.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tang threatened the pig.

The pig looked him straight in the eye and, with a sly smirk, drank down the tea.

SLURRPP

“You heathen!” He shrieked as he banged his hands on the counter and stood up, “how dare you drink my magic tea!”

“Well next time don’t be rude as fuck!” He shot back and got in his face as well.

“That’s rich coming from you!”

“Says the freeloader!”

“Oh here we go again! You know, if you wanted some tea you could have asked!”

“My stove, my cups, my pot, mine.”

“But it was made for me!”

“Yeah well-wait hold up, you feel better right,” Pigsy dropped his screaming as he softly asked his friend, “no drill pounding in your head?”

“Yeah I’m fine now, it really does work miracles,” Tang also lowered his voice.

“That’s good.”

“…they really do act like an old married couple,” Mei announces, MK facepalmed as both adults separated from each other and yelled.

“WE ARE NOT!”

“I’m really sorry about such short notice,” the panda bear demon on call apologized once more to Macaque as he was quickly gathering his ingredients.

“Don’t apologize, shit like this happens,” he waved him off, “I’ll take me a couple of days, a week at max, but I’ll be there before the poison reaches its peak.”

“Thank you,” the panda bowed to him.

“Make sure to store away any semblance of caffeine, alcohol, or anything high in potassium, those are the fastest ways to speed up the process,” he instructed him.

“I’ve been meaning to take away Mink coffee stash, now I have a reason,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you soon.”

“Will do bossman,” he hung up the call and called another number as he continued to pack. Once it picked up he put a smile on his face, “Hey Comet, how’s it going?”

“Good!” The twenty year old happily responded. “You wouldn’t believe it, but the classes are actually kinda easy to understand. They’re still tricky, especially the tests, but Yanyu was right about you teaching this. It made almost all my classes so much easier thanks to you.”

“Aww, that’s another one for my ego,” he joked then he put on a more serious tone, “but I didn’t just call you here for a chat kiddo.”

“Why what’s up? Is there something wrong?” MK suddenly asked as he leaned in, “Do I have to get Mei here and help kick some asses?!”

“Snrk, no nothing like that,” he let out a snort, “you know Po right?”

“Yeah, he’s the panda demon who comes in to get pain relief, muscle relaxants, and other types of medicine for his students? Does this have something to do with him?”

“Close, his disciples messed up big time and accidentally inhaled a bunch of toxic fog when they faced off against an elephant demon.”

“How can an elephant make poison?” MK questioned.

“Magic can do the weirdest of things, I mean I’m a monkey that can do shadow magic,” he pointed out.

“True, okay so he’s gonna come over to pick up the antidote? I don’t see what’s the big problem?”

“Here’s the bad part, Po can’t make a round trip, cause the time he gets back, all of his students…might not be alive,” he gently told him.

“…oh, so what’s gonna happen?”

“Well, I’m going to have to make a house call, which means I'm gonna have to go away for a bit and it’s pretty far, so I won’t be able to hear you.”

“…okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay!” MK gave a big grin to him, “Don’t you worry bout a thing! I’m an adult now Dad, I will be just fine!”

“You have grown up,” he gave a gentle smile, “I’m glad to hear that, but remember to call if there’s any trouble. I may be far, but I will come running if you need it.”

“I will! Now finish packing and save some lives!”

“I will, I’ll see you in two weeks shooting star.”

“See ya later old man!”

Macaque hung up the call with a smile as he resumed his packing. He wished he could have hugged his kid goodbye, but he was in a time crunch as he zipped everything up and quickly jumped out of the treehouse and began to move within the shadows of the trees.

He really does love his shadow powers during these times.

“Duh du Duh,” MK hummed out as he danced his way over to the food delivery destination with the headphones blaring in his ears. He then lifted it to call out the order name when he heard a silky voice interrupt.

“It feels like I waited for an eternity for this moment, is everything in order?”

“Just making the final adjustment mother,” another voice replied and this is when he opened his eyes to see that this was no ordinary food order as an ominous group stood before him.

“Nope,” he immediately whispered as he silently jetted off to hide behind a pile of rocks, but he peaked his head carefully out to see and his eyes widened.

“Finally after all this time,” the woman continued.

‘No way.’

“We have the means to lift Monkey King staff.”

‘It is!’

Standing before them all, wrapped in vibrant viridian vines and burrowed underneath a garden left untouched by the destruction laid around it, was the legendary Monkey King staff.

Things were about to get interesting.

No joke, the delivery scene with the lady is something I had to experience before. There are people who truly treat food workers lower than dirt, which is stupid to me cause why would you disrespect the people making your food? It’s like insulting the people who manage your money.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #six eared macaque #macaque #PlumTeaAU

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years

Text

:BTS OT7 Reaction:

You were nervous getting ready that morning for the fansign and you didn’t really understand why. You were still a month away from your due date, but you just had a weird feeling about today. You just chalked it up to nerves from finally getting to meet your favorite group and got ready to head out the door.

As you all were herded into the room to wait in line for the members you felt some discomfort in your stomach. You rested your hand on there and rubbed gently over it. You felt your daughter kick up into your hand and smiled. Your baby was okay, maybe a little bit more active today than usual and that was why your stomach was feeling weird. As the members came in and sat at their chairs everyone clapped and cheered loudly. They all smiled and waved but when Namjoon and Hoseok spotted you their smiles turned even wider and waved more enthusiastically. You didn’t understand why. You had never met them before. Did they have you confused with someone else? You snapped back out of your thoughts and waved shyly back. The line started to move and you began feeling some pain in your stomach. It was minor, nothing really alarming. But you felt your heart rate pick up slightly in worry.

Oh please not here baby, just hold off at least until the signing is over.

You know she can’t read your thoughts but hope that some force in the universe is listening to you so you don’t go into labor right now. You approach Namjoon first and his dimples are on full display as he smiles at you.

“Hi! What’s your name?”

“It’s y/n.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. I hope this isn’t weird to say but you are absolutely glowing! When are you due?”

“Oh you really think so? Thank you so much. I’m due in just over a month actually. Although I have a sneaking suspicion she’s coming earlier than I thought.” His eyes widen at that.

“Like here? Now?! Oh my gosh do you need me to call someone?” You laugh and shake your head at his slightly panicked expression.

“No no it’s fine. I didn’t mean now. Thank you for your concern though.” He nods and smiles at you again.

“Well I wish you the best. You and your baby.” He signs your album and passes it down to Hoseok next who’s absolutely beaming at you.

“Hello! Oh my goodness you look adorable. And hello little one!” He waves at your stomach. “Are you having a boy or a girl?”

“A girl.”

“Did you name her yet?”

“Hmm nope. I have an idea, but I think the final name will come to me after she’s born and I can see her.” Hoseok smiles and signs your album you see what he’s written and feel a warmth spreading in your chest.

To y/n and her little one! I hope you grow up happy and fill the world with hope.

“Hoseok that is so sweet. Thank you.”

Yoongi is next and he barely gets a hello out before a sharp pain wracks through your stomach. You double over in pain. Yoongi shoots out of his chair and places a hand on your back.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You shake your head and he waves the staff over. But before any can reach you, you feel your water break. Yoongi’s eyes widen.

“Oh my gosh. You’re going into labor. Oh god what do I do?!” He looks to Namjoon for help who’s eyes are just as surprised as his. He walks over to you with a few staff members and they help guide you to a back room away from the prying eyes of the fans. Yoongi tries to shuffle back with you but the staff tell him to sit. He grumbles in frustration and sits back down, nervously biting his nails as he’s worried about you. He heard you tell Namjoon your baby wasn’t due for another month. Were you and your baby okay?

You sit on a couch and groan loudly in pain again as another contraction hits. You don’t realize that you’re squeezing the life out of Namjoon’s hand until he makes a hiss in pain. You immediately let go.

“Sorry!”

“No no it’s okay. The staff called an ambulance for you they should be here any minute.”

“I don’t think she’s going to wait another minute, Namjoon.”

He looks at your stomach and points his finger at your belly.

“Hey! Listen little princess. I know you want to make your grand entrance early but at least wait until you get to the hospital! Do your mom a favor okay?” You laugh at that but it’s quickly cut off by another pained noise.

“Namjoon! EMS is here now they’ll take y/n to the hospital." Everything happens so fast you don’t even register you’re in the ambulance until you go over a bump and another painful contraction hits. You also didn’t notice Namjoon asking the staff which hospital they were taking you to.

Shortly after you had arrived to the hospital you had given birth to a healthy baby girl. She looks just like you. She doesn’t cry very much as she is instantly soothed and stops crying once she is placed in your arms. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you glance down at her, already so in love with her and wanting to do everything you can to make sure she grows up happy and healthy. You thought back to the message Hoseok had wrote for you in your album and can’t help but think that you picked the perfect name for her. You are singing softly to her under your breath when there is a knock on your door. Your nurse comes in with a confused look on her face.

“Um.. miss y/n? There is group of guys here to see you. Um.. 7 of them? Actually BTS is here to see you? I don’t even- Okay sorry I was just so flustered seeing all of them walk in. But they want to visit you should I let them?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. You tilt your head but nod slowly. A few moments later you see Hoseok pop his head in.

“Hey Mama!” He sings at you and you can’t help but immediately laugh. Your baby starts to fuss in your arms and Hoseok slaps a hand over his mouth and whispers out a sorry. He approaches you and looks down at your little girl sleeping happily on your chest.

“She’s so cute!” Soon all of the members peek their heads in and wave, smiling fondly at the two of you.

Jimin walks in with a giant bouquet of flowers in his hand, Jungkook has a pink bear and Taehyung has a bouquet of pink balloons. They all set the gifts beside you on the table and you feel tears immediately welling up in your eyes.

“You guys.. you didn’t have to come here and you especially didn’t have to get me anything!” Jin grabs a tissue and lightly pats your eyes with it to dry your tears since your arms are full with your daughter.

“Nonsense. Of course we had to come and check on you and make sure you were okay. We all were worried when you went into labor. Poor Yoongi over here I think nearly chewed all his nails off because he was so nervous.”

“Shut up, hyung I did not. I just... didn’t want anything bad to happen to her or the baby if she didn’t make it to the hospital in time.”

“I guess my stern talking to worked.” Namjoon puffs out his chest proudly and you giggle quietly.

“Thank you all so much. Really. This means so much to me you don’t understand I wish I could repay your kindness.”

“You don’t have to thank us, really.” Namjoon says.

“Actually there is something you can do.” Taehyung says. You lift your eyebrow at him in question. “Sends lots of baby photos! And pictures of you too. We want to watch your little one grow up too. I know it might seem weird since we just met and all but, this baby is special to us too since you’re our fan and almost gave birth at our fan meet! I think it’s like a sign or something.” You feel fresh tears pooling in your eyes that the boys already care about you and your baby so much even if they only spoke a few words to you.

“Yeah! I agree with Taehyungie. Please let us still see her! Maybe even visit every once in a while. We can be like, her cool but overprotective uncles.” Jimin says with a giggle.

“And I can give you some of the baby shoes in my studio!” Namjoon offers.

“You guys stop you’re going to make me cry again!” Jin wipes at your eyes again and you thank him. “I would love to. My phone is in my purse just put your contact numbers in there.” Jungkook walks over and grabs your phone. He smiles when he sees Hoseok’s photo card in the back of it.

“Ah, so we all know now who your bias is.” He flashes the phone so the other members can see and you blush madly.

“Don’t get me wrong! I always switch out my photocards because I don’t have a bias. You guys are all so sweet in your own ways and are funny and incredibly handsome. I couldn’t possibly pick a bias.” They all smile at that but Hoseok speaks up from the seat next to your bed.

“But we all know I’m your favorite. It’s okay I won’t tell them.” He winks at you and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes you.

“Hey, noona what’s the password for your phone?” Jungkook asks.

“The day you debuted. 061313.” Jungkook smiles at that and puts the code in. He passes it around to the other members and they all put their number in. Yoongi is the last to and he creates a group chat for you and the other members.

“There. Now we can all see whatever photos you want to share with us.”

“Can we take one with you now?” Taehyung asks with his eyes shining.

“Sure. Can you ask my nurse to come in and take it for us?”

A few moments later you are surrounded by all of them and the photo is taken. You share it with the group chat and they all coo over how cute you and your baby look.

“By the way what did you name her?” Namjoon asks.

“Oh.. well I named her Hope. Because that’s what you all have given me. When I was struggling in my pregnancy and darkness threatened to take over I would listen to your music and I immediately was filled with happiness and hope. And also because whenever I played Hoseok’s mixtape she always seemed to be the most active and it felt like she was dancing in my stomach. Plus I also kind of thought it was very fitting too because of what Hoseok wrote in my album.”

Hoseok pumps his fist in the air. “Ha! I told you I was the favorite! I’m gonna be the favorite uncle you hear that?”

“No fair! You don’t know who she’s gonna like best. She’s a baby!” Jin argues. You watch them all bicker amongst themselves and can’t help but laugh and feel a fondness blooming in your chest watching them all.

“Why do I feel like I now am going to have 8 children in my life?” You ask Namjoon who has been quietly watching them with the same fond expression on his face.

“7 children. Don’t include me in on their chaos.” You laugh at that and Namjoon brings his hand over to gently run his hand over your daughter’s head.

“Hope is a good name. It suits her. You’re going to be a great mother y/n.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“And I know we don’t know each other very well yet but I hope we can all change that. And if you ever need help with anything just let any of us know.”

“Okay. I will.”

“I’ll take the kids home. You go ahead and get some rest. We’ll come back and see you tomorrow?” He says it as a question, leaving the option for you to say no.

“I would love that.”

#bts reaction #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts #kim namjoon #rm #kim seokjin #jin #min yoongi #suga #park jimin #kim taehyung #v #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook

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mypersonmyg · 3 years

Text

irrevocably yours | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 987

warnings: n/a

summary: you’re stressed and work obsessed OR jeongguk has a box full of pout

a/n: you guys tell me my banner is cute :-D

omg i forgot to mention that this is based on the collar full couple !!!!!

prompt 16. P - Past. The otp+ find something that reminds one or both/all of them of the past.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

Collar Full

“You’re late, Jeon.” You grumble, fingers padding away at keys without glance in his direction. You miss a look delivered by Taehyung, Jeongguk warned of the cloud settled amidst the packed room. In a season of reshoots evenings are filled with students just hoping to have dinner not consisting of piles of grease and salads nearing expiration, you’re just hoping to a decent frame, something worth the trouble of salvation.

“Sorry, I got held up.” He plops into a saved seat, arms brushing your own, his eyes roaming your screen, overflowing with notes to be scoured by him later. “Well this looks promising.”

Jeongguk starts at your drawn sigh, the slow of rapid digits shifting to the settling of stressed palms to shield the width of your cheeks. Sarcasm ill timed sends a flinch to the surrounding ensemble, the tension of your shoulders seeming to hold the entirety of the room in place, the threat of crumble heightening with the pass of each moment.

“I’m calling it,” Jeongguk decides on a whim, your face immediately reappearing, delicate puff evident in the heaviness of your eyes.

“We can’t call it, we still have things to look over, not to mention setting a schedule to fix everything and try to make sure that nothing goes wrong--” Jeongguk halts you with the place of his hand against your thigh with a light squeeze.

“You guys can go, we’ll break for a few days and get together again when we figure some stuff out, yeah?” The room is in ready agreement, flood through the slim frame of the door before you can utter a word in disagreement. Jeongguk is quickly fixed with repressed frustration, your eyes ablaze with fatigue, his finger lifting to trace the bags beneath your glazed pupils. “You have to try to relax, baby.”

“You know I can’t.”

“How can I help?”

“Well sending everyone home certainly didn’t help.” Though the words are meant to hold snark, they’re released in tandem with a yawn, well timed with the lay of your head against Jeongguk’s broad shoulder.

“I beg to differ, you look ready to pass out. Let’s get you home,” You’re easily pulled to your feet, the whole of your balance dependent on Jeongguk’s hold.

The ride home passes in blur, eyes occupied by the stream of lampposts and a limitless sky. You hear the gentle timber of Jeongguk’s voice keeping beat with his latest playlist, the complimentary tunes arousing the image of the shy cameraman commanding the stage. Were you not so occupied with the pry of your eyes the thought would tug a smile, forcing the compliance of strained muscles, instead your head rests against the cool of frosted glass, eyes rolling back occasionally.

You’re brought down by the halting of accidental lullaby, Jeongguk quickly exiting the car, door resounding in hesitant slam. He rounds to your side just as your hand meets the handle of the door.

“Let me carry you in,” Jeongguk insists, his hands knocking yours away before the gentle slide beneath your thigh, other hand tucking around your back, hugging the material of a borrowed sweater. “Just like old times.”

“What are you talking about?” You groan, folding into Jeongguk, preparing for the blind of artificial lighting.

“You used to fall asleep on my couch and insist that I carry you to bed,” He chuckles, reminded of times not so different save for beaten hurtle of requited love. “I always thought it was so cute that I’d get you to let me--”

“Take pictures of me pouting because your house is always freezing?”��

“Hey, let’s not pretend I never offered to turn the heat on.” He counters, offense feigned in his playful tone. You’re surprised to find lack of life within the walls of your residence, Taehyung likely already collapsed into bed or having found elsewhere to be, effectively avoiding your what remains of a tepid temper.

“But cold is better than hot because you always let me hog the blankets and now I get cuddles.”

“You got cuddles then too and you know it.” Jeongguk heads straight to his own door, not foolish enough to believe that you’d want the solitude of your own space. You’re gently placed upon Jeongguk’s mattress, the kick of your shoes immediately follows your landing, your body finding comfort amongst Jeongguk’s pillows.

You watch as he floats about the room, systematically digging through drawers and shelves before coming up with a plain black box. He slides onto the bed placing the seemingly ordinary object between you and removing the lid. He pulls from it a polaroid in mint condition, Jeongguk always careful with the maintenance of his photos.

He flashes you the picture, a tired smile nowhere near showcasing the flutter of your chest. Like the box in which they’re housed, the photos before you are seemingly ordinary, just snapshots of Jeongguk and yourself in adolescence. Many nights spent snugged together watching films, bowl of popcorn nestled to the side as you rest amongst the cushions.

True to his word, Jeongguk has a pile dedicated to your late night pout, many filled with arms outstretched, begging for the hold of Jeongguk to carry you a flight up.

“It seems like it was so long ago.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t go back though.” Jeongguk muses, gently placing the photos back into the box and setting it to the side. He easily slides into place, arms encasing you, head resting atop your own.

“Why not?”

“It was torture holding you like that and thinking there was no way you felt more than friendship towards me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, it doesn’t matter. We’re together now and it’s gonna take a lot more than you being adorably grumpy to chase me away.” He drips tease, lips obnoxiously kissing your cheek.

“I am not grumpy and even if I were it’s not adorable.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Okay...grumpy.”

#bangtanhq #bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #bangtanwriterscollective #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #bts drabbles #bts fluff #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is an art form. It takes more than just having ingredients and following a recipe. It’s the flavour, texture, taste, and the presentation. It’s knowing why when things go wrong and how to fix it. It’s knowing the right kinds of ingredients to pick, how much of each should be combined, what techniques and methods to use. Baking is therapy. Baking is scientific. It is art. The ingredients are as follows:

Fresh strawberries

Sponge cake

Sugar

Heavy cream

Vanilla extract

You slice the freshly washed strawberries into halves as the stand mixer whips the two cups of heavy cream and quarter cup of sugar into medium peaks. Once you’ve got your components prepared, you slice the cooled sponge cake into two layers and set the bottom layer on a cake board on the turning cake table. You spread the whipped cream evenly with an offset spatula and layer the strawberries with cream on top. Afterwards, you place the other sponge cake on top and repeat the process. You finish the shortcake with strawberries on top for decorative purposes and pipe flowers with a twelve inch piping bag. “Very well done! Everyone give a round of applause for Y/N’s shortcake demonstration.” The teacher claps and the students around the counter follow suit. “Now it’s time for the real test.” She begins slicing the cake into pieces, but you’re not nervous whatsoever. You know you did a great job and your strawberry shortcake is worthy of salivating over. And as expected, while your classmates take careful bites and allow the flavour to linger on their tongue, there’s nothing but praise. “Wow, the sponge cake is so soft and moist.” “The cream is so smooth.” “It’s so fluffy.” “It’s melting in my mouth.” Even the teacher is nodding as she eats. But of course— “Isn’t it too sweet?” Jeon Jungkook has his brows deeply furrowed with a soured expression like he bit into a fucking lemon. His fork is cleaned but he puts the utensil down with a noisy clank, not wanting another bite. A muscle in your cheek twitches. “Didn’t you say that last time?” “Yeah.” He shrugs. “But you didn’t follow my advice. Obviously.” “Maybe you just have sensitive teeth, Jonhson.” “I don’t,” Jungkook deadpans, not appreciating how you pretend that you don’t know his name. “I don’t see anyone else complaining.” “Because they’re too nice to. If you can’t take criticism, then there’s nothing I can do, Y/N.” There are eyes flickering around. This happens often enough that no one’s particularly surprised, but there’s still bated breath held amongst your classmates. You open your mouth to retort. But the teacher eats with a thoughtful look, and then nods. “You’re right, Jungkook. You could lessen the sugar just a tad, Y/N. The strawberries are quite sweet this time around. Just goes to show that ingredients might always change, everyone!” “Okay.” You force a smile. “I’ll make a note of it.” “Alright class, now that we saw the demonstration, off you go! Watch that whipping cream! It shouldn’t be soft or hard peaks!” Everyone turns to leave, but your glare connects with Jeon’s until he turns around all the way. No matter what you make — Jeon Jungkook always complains that it’s too sweet. He’s a fucking ass. “What was up with that?” There are audible murmurs behind you. “I thought they were going to fight.” “In the kitchen? No. Maybe outside — but you know how it is.” “They still hate each other over the September incident?” “Well Jeon almost got Y/N expelled….” You turn around and once they realize they’ve been caught gossiping, they look away with big eyes and they quicken their hands. “So, uh, pass me the cream!” “Y-Yeah.” The teacher brings your attention back as she finishes marking the rubric. “Thanks for doing that demonstration for the whole class, Y/N. Job well done as usual. Just lessen the sweetness and you’re good to go.” You’re given ninety five percent. Full marks lost because of that asshat. You hope he can feel your glare on his backside. Eventually class ends and with your station all cleaned, hands washed, and apron put aside, you leave. Outside of the room, is the most handsome man on the planet waiting for you. The person who you love wholeheartedly. The person you’re most excited to see. Your person. He’s dressed in a white turtleneck sweater that you got him last year for his birthday, black jeans, and that baby blue trench that’s always soft to the touch. His dark hair is brushed and he’s leaning against the wall casually. But the glimmer in his sheepish eyes betrays the nonchalant exterior he tries to put on. And the corner of his plump lip pulls into a tender smile. “Hey—oof!” Laughter bubbles out of Seokjin’s mouth and his arms wrap around your frame after you quite literally leaped onto him. You barely manage to pull away from the man, having the strongest urge to stick to him forever. “I missed you.” You pout and he grins. “Missed you too, sweetheart.” You lean in to kiss your boyfriend silly. He holds you by your waist and you greet his plump, soft lips that makes you melt in a chaste peck. After a moment, you break away and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Should we go?” “Yeah.” Your steps sync together. “You won’t believe what happened to me today.” “What happened? Tell me.” The pair of you walk down the corridor together as the rest of the class continues to spill out. There are girls who caught sight of the heartwarming interaction and they hold their books to their chest as they sigh wistfully. “God, I’m so jealous. I want to be in love too. When am I going to get a boyfriend?” “At this rate, never.” “Hey! Rude!” “I’m kidding!” She giggles. “You just won’t get someone like Seokjin.” “Let’s be real, no one is gonna get someone like Seokjin — he’s just...perfect.” “They’re such a good couple, aren’t they? They’re gonna have such pretty…” Their voices fade, but Jungkook exits and hears their commentary. He turns to steal a glance at your backside down the hall. Jungkook scoffs audibly. “What?” Taehyung catches up to his best friend and swings an arm over his shoulder. The same-height brunette follows his line of sight and hums. “Jealous you’re not in a relationship?” “As if. It’s just pathetic, is all.” Jungkook looks away and they make their own way to the dining hall. “You really handed it to Y/N today.” Taehyung grins mischievously. “Like damn. I didn’t think her cake was half-bad. But you’re not scared it’s gonna come bite you in the ass, Kook? Y/N’s gonna hammer you down when it’s your turn for demonstration.” “So what? Like she knows what she’s even doing.” “Are you sure about that? She seems pretty decent at what she does to me.” “Decent isn’t good enough,” he says blankly. “She thinks she’s the shit but she came here to follow her boyfriend.” Taehyung whistles. “You still mad over September?” “She just irks me. Always has.” “Right, didn’t you guys go to high school together? You, Jin and her…” “We never talked. Whatever, it’s not worth talking about and wasting our time. Hey, what’s on the menu for lunch?” “You tell me. Jimin never texts us what’s new today. Dude just eats and then goes.” “What class does he even have right now?” “Bakery safety and sanitation.” Jungkook grins, remembering just how nightmarish that class was. “Rip.” The two of them turn the corner, moving the opposite way from you and Seokjin, and the hallway empties out.

Anxiousness boils at the pit of your stomach. Today’s the day you’ve been waiting for ever since you found out your application was accepted into the institution and you were successfully enrolled. Whatever results appear, it might dictate where you’re headed in the near and far future. The experience that you gain in these two years will pave the path to your career after all. “It’s today?” Moonbyul puts down her spoon. “Isn’t the paid internship in May? It’s only November.” “The posting went up for us in November too,” Hani pipes up past a mouthful of eggs. “Remember?” “Did it? It was so long ago, I forgot.” “It was only last year.” Sandeul rolls his eyes. “You haven’t gotten that old.” “I sure feel like it.” “Well if anything, you sure look like it.” “Umm, excuse me?” “Okay, okay, guys,” Your boyfriend interrupts with a laugh. “You’re freaking out Y/N even more.” They mutter apologies, but you smile. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you ask, “Where did you guys end up going?” After all, they’re a year ahead of you and they’ve been through the entire process. Any advice is helpful advice at this point. “Sandeul and I got hired by a hotel,” Hani says, “The Marriott. It was a pretty sweet gig, kind of tough though. Out of the entire class, I think five of us went there in total, so we were pretty lucky that we knew each other. It was long hours, but I learned a lot.” Sandeul scoffs. “Can’t say I did.” “When do you ever learn?” Moonbyul bites back. “My internship was at a private club,” Ken recalls, interjecting as the two of them argue again. “But all I baked was bread all day. It was awful.” “Oh god.” You look to Seokjin. “What if I have to bake bread all day? I hate yeast.” Jin laughs and he lifts his thumb to affectionately swipe at the corner of your mouth, getting the spaghetti sauce off your skin where you missed. “You’ll be fine. Promise. You’ll probably get hired at a catering company like I did. Or maybe a pastry shop.” “God, I hope so.” “Which did you apply to?” Hani asks, playing with her noodles. “Just a bunch of them. Restaurants, catering companies, shops. I applied to I think ten.” “Oh, you should be fine then.” “But I heard sometimes they put you in ones you didn’t apply for.” “That rarely happens. Don’t worry about it.” She bats the air with her hand, easing your worries a little more. Your boyfriend smiles warmly. “See? Told you so.” You nod and check the time. It’s five minutes to noon. And with that realization, you get up. “We should go.” “Don’t they email you?” Sandeul asks, pulling himself away from his argument with Moonbyul and ignoring whatever half-hearted and playful insult she throws his way. “Yeah, but the physical posting gets put up faster.” You’re jittery, hopping on both feet and Jin chuckles before he gets up too, taking your food tray and his to dump into the trash. They wish you all the luck you need and you’re off with Seokjin by your side. You’re excited and afraid, not exactly sure what to expect. You just hope you get your internship by the same catering company as the one Seokjin had. They liked him enough that they’ve ensured him a position after he graduates. If they hire you too and you do well enough, they’ll hire you back and you’ll get to work with him. It would be absolutely perfect. You can already imagine it. A small apartment in the city. Working together. Coming home together. There’s not a better plan out there. The hallway is crowded with lots of people pushing past to look at the posting. There are loud conversations, eager claps and cheers, to disappointed sighs and whines. “Wait here, okay?” You turn to Jin, not wanting him to be stepped on or pushed by the crowd. “I’ll be right here.” He squeezes your hand before letting go. And you push past the horde of students. “Excuse me, excuse me. Sorry…” “Aw man, I have my internship at a grocery store?! This sucks.” — “The hell is Dog World.” — “Oh my god, oh my god! I got into the East Wood Country Club! Fuck yes!” Finally, you stumble out of the crowd to the very front. The list is grouped together by locations and you search your name on the paper posting. After an antagonizing minute, you find it. “Kim’s…..Wedding Cake Company….” Blood drains from your face. It runs cold. Jeon Jungkook is coming with you. // You stomp your foot and cross your arms. You’ve been pouting for the past hour. But you can’t help the distress — not when you were still unable to comprehend it. It was the worst news on Earth. You thought your eyes were wrong, that maybe the posting or printer made a mistake, but the email wasn’t any different either. “I can’t believe I have to go with that jerk! It’s all ruined!” “I know, baby.” Seokjin pouts with you, sympathizing with your situation. He pulls you in to plant a kiss at the top of your head. “But you’ll be okay. Promise.” The way he says it calms your nerves, but that doesn’t mean you still aren’t frustrated to no end. There was only one paid internship to be done. One that was supposed to pave your way, help with the rest of your career, teach you things that couldn’t be learned through lectures and classroom work. But your one shot is destroyed. In shambles. What should be a fantastic experience is going to be a dreadful one. Why did things never go right for you? “I just….I just really wanted to be hired at your company.” You look up at him, eyes stinging and glossy with tears that threaten to shed. Your plans are ruined. “It’s okay. You can always apply after graduation.” “I know.” You sigh. “But of all people, why him?” A few hours later, the pair of you catch up with your friends at the dining center for dinner, and they quickly notice the way you’re not necessarily jumping for joy, but rather grieving. “Not...good news, I presume?” Moonbyul gasps. “Did you not get hired anywhere-OW!” She rubs the spot where Sandeul smacked the back of her head for being tactless. “It’s not that,” you reassure them with a small smile. “My internship is at Kim’s Wedding Cake Company.” Ken’s eyes are enlarged. “Oh shit.” “Wedding cakes?!” Hani sharply inhales. “That’s brutal.” “No, it’s not that either. I don’t mind. It’s just…” You steal a glimpse at your boyfriend. For one, you wanted to go where he went and secondly— “I’m with Jeon Jungkook.” “Who?” Ken asks, brows furrowing. “You know, the black haired kid,” Moonbyul says in an attempt to jog his memory. But the man’s impassive expression doesn’t waver or alter. “You literally described at least a quarter of the population.” “The one that looks like a rabbit, you idiot.” Hani makes grand gestures. “The deer-looking fellow. You know, the cute one.” “Right!” He snaps his fingers, as if that was enough to remember him by. You shake your head. “He’s not cute. He’s an ass. Steer clear territory.” “Can’t you steer clear from him?” Sandeul asks before he slurps up his carbonara and then chews in his cheek. “There’s like what— four or five kids coming with you? You can probably avoid him if you wanted to.” “No.” It dawns on you just how bad the circumstances are. “Apparently only two of us are going there. At least I didn’t see anyone else assigned to that place. It’s only going to be just him and I.” “Yikes.” “Not helping, Hani.” Seokjin gives her a look that makes her sheepish and mumble an apology. “It’s not going to be that bad.” He reaches for your hand underneath the table, a private place without the prying eyes of his friends. “It’s only for three months and it’s during summer. It won’t happen for quite some time.” “Yeah.” You squeeze your hand tenderly with his. It’s wondrous how effective Seokjin’s reassurance is. You feel like there’s no reason for you to be afraid, for you to dread the inevitability. He makes you feel like you could take on anything. All plans have their obstacles. Maybe this is just yours. Things always have a way of working out after all. You’ll get your experience, do your internship without talking to him, and then apply where Jin will be working after. You just have a feeling — call it your intuition — that it’ll work out. // But you’re still somewhat unsettled. You wonder if there’s a way you could switch. At least it wouldn’t hurt to take your chances and ask, then you knew you tried and did all you could. So with a hopeful heart, you approach the office area and open the door. The secretary is gone from her desk, maybe gone to take a bathroom or coffee break, so you take a seat in the waiting area. One second passes before you overhear a familiar voice that you’ve grown to detest. “—don’t see how I’m qualified at all! I haven’t even learned about wedding cakes yet!” The frustration is tangible. “It’s a course for next year!” “Then you’ll get a head start from your classmates, Jungkook.” There’s an audible sigh and his voice becomes calmer. “Miss. Kang, please. I just don’t understand how I could be put in something I didn’t even apply for.” “What do you want to do, Jungkook?” “Pardon?” “What is it that you want to do after you’ve gotten your diploma?” “I want to be a chocolatier.” There’s a pause. “A Master Chocolatier. I want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters. That’s why I applied for Oliver’s and Tokyo Confectionery. Spending my time and my internship at a place that does chocolate is important to me. Not wedding cakes.” “Well, you’re lucky then. I personally know the couple that runs Kim’s Wedding Cake Company. They’re good friends of mine and the man who runs the place with his wife is actually a chocolatier. He studied in Paris and has been in the industry for more than ten years. I feel like you could learn a lot from him, Jungkook. Remember, it’s not the place you go to, but the mentor that you have. Think it over. Give it a few days. If you still have concerns, we can talk about it.” Jungkook huffs in exasperation and grabs his bag. He mutters a reluctant ‘thank you’ before leaving the office. He doesn’t take one look back but on his way out, he catches you staring straight at him in the waiting area. His steps slow but then he scoffs, looks away and walks out. When you get a chance to talk to the lady organizing internships, it’s brief — she apologizes and tells you there’ll be no changes made. There’s no arguing, you know that much. Not when Jungkook quite literally tried every desperate plea in the book. You end up leaving and at the same exact time, Jungkook exits the men’s locker area, changed back into his regular attire. The two of you nearly bump heads, running into each other. “Are you following me?” he flat out asks when your eyes meet. You raise a brow, freezing in the middle of the hallway. “Excuse me?” “Are you following me,” he repeats with a sharp tongue, obviously still peeved over his previous interaction with Miss. Kang. But you don’t know why he’s putting it on you and making such outlandish accusations. There was absolutely no limit to his cockiness. “Get your head out of your ass, Johnson. I don’t have the time or day to follow you around.” “Then what are you doing here?” “I don’t think I need to tell you where I am or what I do.” “Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and brushes past you. But you turn onto your heel and shout after him— “Do you really think you’ll make it?” “What?” He shifts around to glare. His thick brows are knitted, mouth downturned. “Do you really think you’ll make it as a chocolatier?” You meet his eye and a smirk pulls on your features. A rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “You? Really? You want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters? That’s cute.” “At least I have actual ambitions and goals and I’m not here for the sake of my boyfriend.” “Excuse me? What are you trying to say?” “Don’t play dumb and act like you didn’t follow your little boyfriend here.” “You don't know anything about me, Jeon.” “I don’t? I know that you’re not passionate about baking, that’s for sure. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have fucking stolen—” “Fuck you,” you spit. “I didn’t.” “Yeah right.” Jungkook scoffs. “Get real, Y/N.” He gets the last word. Jeon Jungkook turns around, walking away with his bag slung over his shoulder. You shout insults after him but he ignores it, making you look like the fool. Tears sting your eyes and your teeth grit. He’s an asshole through and through. You don’t know why you even bother wasting your breath. If Seokjin was the most patient, kindest person and the person that you love the most — then Jeon was the complete opposite. You will forever detest his very being. // Your hand is squeezed and you’re brought out of your thoughts. “Babe? What’s wrong?” You look to your boyfriend. That’s right — you love him and this man loves you. There’s nothing else that could ever matter more than this. “Nothing. I just had...a really long day today.” Seokjin stops walking and spreads open his arms wide. He gestures to you. “Come here.” A smile pulls into your features and you jump into him. Jin laughs, stumbling back as you cuddle into his chest. His arms wrap securely around your frame, shielding you from the cold, from the darkness of the night. You feel safe. “I love you.” He hums and kisses the top of your head. You’re beginning to feel better already.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #bts seokjin #bts slice of life #bts slice of life au #jungkook series #Y'ALL THIS IS GONNA BE THE SWEETEST THING Y'ALL EVER DARN READ #istg reading and editing ch 1 again brings tears to my eyes #im so excited to finally share this series #I HOPE YOU'RE READY

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gwoongi · 4 years

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wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today.

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

#im sick of myself and my brain making new fics instead of finishing current ones #oh well #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

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