#what if it just. stops being a replica? she frames the real thing??

[crispytoastyt]

The Attack on Art History

As we are about to end of 2022, the last three months have been very troubling, to say the least when it comes to art history. As an art enthusiast, I love the art of most kinds that are not only made with traditional tools by legendary artists but providing visual elements such as expressions and symbolism.

But then you get these so-called "climate protestors" that pop out of nowhere and vandalize art, and there are billionaires that destroy pieces of history in favor of NFT replicas.

Sometime in October 2022, a group of supposed activists known as Just Stop Oil arrived in disguise, and when nobody was near them, they dumped tomato soup on Van Gogh's "Sunflowers," and glue themselves against the wall near the vandalized painting. They gave a speech on what is more important in life, "Oil or food."

We get that pollution and global warming are major concerns in our lives, but the way they are doing this is not helping their cases as vandalizing art pieces in the museum is illegal everywhere. If they care about the environment, why attempt to destroy historical art at the museum?

Fortunately, the paintings are protected by the glass... though the frames need to be cleaned up or replaced with new frames. But even so, paintings that got vandalized feel like art history is being violated.

You may be asking who organized the attacks upon paintings like Sunflowers? The mastermind behind all this is Aileen Getty or the Oil Witch which I dubbed her.

Aileen Getty is the granddaughter of the oil tycoon J. Paul Getty and had been donating millions and millions of dollars to support activist groups... which then manipulated them to think that oil paintings are one of the sources of global warming.

You might be wondering why would she do that in the first place. The Oil Witch is also using them as scapegoats to make the majority of environmental activists look terrible and less trustworthy.

I am surprised that Getty is not arrested yet for orchestrating the attacks on art history. But if you think that is bad, then the next part of this rant will shock you.

A crypto bro destroyed a historical piece of art and created NFT replicas of what was gone. That's right, the millionaire bought one of the late Frida Kahlo's works just so he can destroy it and turn this thing into collectible NFTs. The moment I read the article, I was really angry, and I cannot believe that crypto bro had the audacity to do that. Kahlo is really rolling down her grave... violently.

And I can't even believe that NFTs are still here. I consider these things as "fake art" because the majority of them are randomly generated images that only be purchased with worthless cryptocurrency. Some may even go to the extreme by hijacking social media accounts so they can promote trash like that. It feels like the infamous sales funnel scheme but much, much worse.

Art needs to be preserved and protected from whatever tries to attack them. It would be a lot better if museums can store the real paintings in a vault while they make replicas to showcase in the gallery. Art is too sacred to be vandalized or destroyed, especially at these damning times...

My final words for this post:

"Fuck the Oil Witch and fuck the Crypto Bros."

[crumble-cookii]

uhhh slight spoilers for CRK episodes 11-12, and mention of g0re, vi0lence, d3ath/murd3r, and maybe c4nnibalism(dragon eat cookie, dragon also kinda cookie? does that count enough??), lmk if I need to put more warnings up!! <3

I plan to make my own little comic thing for it later, maybe tomorrow, but basically

so yknow how Pitaya was like kinda in control of the HB kingdom for a while because big strong f you dragon can do what they want? and we also know they have some slight anger issues and are pretty violent and lash out easily?

how many people are we thinking they killed in their time in power? they got sharp teefs which can easily rip out someone's throat, do you ever think they just straight ate someone? maybe singed them? gutted them with their claws? something similar??

as far as I know this never happened, but I haven't actually finished the story for the episodes myself(watched the cutscenes though, couldnt help it, oops) so idk if it's ever referenced that this happened, but like. idk, it's just smth to think about I guess?

just, how many cookies pissed Pitaya off enough that they either wound up dead or with some kind of severe scarring? I feel, even with all their lashing out, they know better than to attack Jungle and Royal Berry, but I wonder if they ever ended up threatening the two, or maybe even just some light damage which wouldn't scar, like just a really forceful hit or maybe a light cut

what would Holly think when she finally returns? would anyone ever tell her? would she already know? would she just literally kill Pitaya for it? or like, if they were able to get away first, set hunting parties? would she even pursue that far, or just wait until they come around again to stain her hands in dragons blood? would they even come back after that, knowing they've pissed off one of the only people who could defeat them? oh and ESPECIALLY if it goes the route of them hurting Royal Berry even a little bit

idk, I've just had this idea brewing in my head for a lil bit, and I think it'd be really cool to go into :D

[river-bottom-nightmare]

the justice league often mentioned how close the titans were . they, and later other heroes as well, mused about how no matter who was on the team or which members kept cycling through or whatever horrors and betrayals they’d faced, the five of them stayed remarkably inseparable.

but it had honestly become dick, roy, donna, wally, and garth’s way of life, so they shrugged and moved on with their lives.

even so, with and casual touches commonplace and with each other’s secrets tangling in the air between them, there were some things they don’t talk about. things that would be a little odd, things that don’t need to be brought up again, things that would cause hurt feelings, things that would be funny but awkward. they don’t talk about the time they walked in on garth stapling a bunch of stuffed animals to the ceiling while naked (donna just blinked, then closed the door and walked out). they don’t talk about donna and roy’s relationship, or how roy and dick used to fuck, and how lian had brought out a side to roy that the entire team almost preferred to who he was before (donna and dick had discovered that they liked roy’s protective, sweeping hugs more than his deep kisses anyway). they don’t talk about the veritable mountain of scented creams and massage oils that dick just keeps on buying but never using (garth tried to use them once and dick hissed and threw a spatula at him so the rest of them stay away). and they don’t talk about dick and wally.

roy doesn’t mention the get together that dick likes to call a “meeting” because he wants to keep the team on track, when in reality they’re sitting around eating pizza and watching movies like they used to do years ago, nostalgia heavy and sweet around them. the actor on the tv says a quip paired with a smirk, dick responds with a muttered dirty joke because he’s been spending entirely too much time with red hood, wally snorts and says, “liar, you loved it last night when i–” and dick slams his hand over wally’s mouth. roy just shrugs amidst wally’s muffled laughter, grinning about winning a bet with himself on when dick would finally sleep with the last of his redhead friends.

donna doesn’t say anything when she crashes at dick’s apartment one night, making a pit stop in the rather obnoxiously large new york penthouse while on her way to gateway. she notes all of the photographs dick has randomly framed throughout the rooms with a sense of satisfaction, delight maybe. except she forgot that wally lives with dick now, a temporary arrangement that helps the both of them while wally gets his phd and dick comes to terms with the fact that he’s happy going part time at a liberal arts college and teaching on the side. donna doesn’t really know what wally contributes other than maybe the memorization of dick’s orders at all takeout restaurants in a five-mile radius. still, she doesn’t say anything when she walks past the master bedroom on the way to the guest room and hears relaxed, content laughter through the crack in the door, and she doesn’t say anything when that laughter turns into not-so-relaxed but definitely content moans floating down the hallway. she just snorts and slides her headphones: the big, noise-cancelling kind.

garth doesn’t tease them when wally’s large nyu sweatshirts find themselves wrapped around dick’s frame, the acrobat sighing into the comfort of them. he makes note of the deep black lace from dick’s combat boots threading through the loops of wally’s worn nikes. he laughs a little at the flash keychain dangling from dick’s keyring, one he keeps specifically to irritate bruce. instead, garth tosses some wally’s sweatshirts on dick’s bed when he’s on laundry duty in the tower, and gives wally a couple of dick’s own. he buys them both gag gifts of the others’ symbol on their birthday (and how convenient, read: adorable, is it that the two of them share a birthday?) and makes sure donna snaps a picture of the delighted looks on their faces. the two of them are so goddamn pleased at each one of these instances, so happy, that garth can’t even find it in himself to make fun of them.

roy keeps it to himself when he notices dick and wally sliding into the same side of a booth together at restaurants. usually, donna will sit with them, across from roy and garth, since donna and dick are the physically smallest people on the team, and like any pair of best friends, she’ll sling her arm around his shoulder and he’ll poke her when he’s bored. but lately, there’s always been a little bit of space between the two of them. in contrast, dick’s practically plastered to wally’s side, and wally’s leaning against dick just as much. roy hides his indulgent little smile when the two of them pick food off of each other’s plates, wally sliding his pickles to dick in a smooth movement and dick handing over most of his fries almost instinctually. dick plucks the lemon from his water in an unconscious movement, giving it to wally to suck on, and wally passes dick the hot sauce without dick even opening his mouth. their hands disappear under the table, and roy would bet donna’s swanky-professional-camera that they’re holding hands. he lets them teeter on the edge of they-know-they-don’t-know when the titans are together, because he can’t really stop himself from being the asshole best friend after years of it becoming second nature. but when it’s just the three of them plus lian eating out, he’ll order an extra dessert whenever lian asks, just so the two of them can sit a little longer.

and donna doesn’t say a word when dick starts wearing a ring when he’s in civvies, a priceless looking replica of the flash ring that speedsters keep their suit in. it’s hidden in one of the many secret pockets in dick’s suit when he’s nightwing, but when he’s just dick grayson, he fiddles with it constantly, turning it and roughly tracing over the emblem and switching it between his fingers. donna even keeps quiet when dick shows up at titans tower for a training session with the newer kids with the ring firmly on his fourth finger for the first time. she just heads over to the kitchen, where wally’s making a veritable mountain of scrambled eggs, and wraps him in a hug. wally, in a move odd for the speedster, doesn’t speak in response. he just flushes as red as his hair and hugged donna back, squeezing her hand when she pulls away.

and that gesture is enough. there may some things they don’t talk about because it’s strange or troublesome, but there are also a host of things they don’t talk about because they don’t need to. they’re close enough to understand the significance of what it means anyway. 

real talk i have no idea what the fuck this was. i just felt like writing. so. uh. yea.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bonkybearjpeg @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s field trip part 2

March 7th

Peter's POV

I woke up peacefully to Friday playing Highway to Hell and telling me it was 6:30am and I needed to get up for school. Concerned for Wade's sleeping I quickly told Friday to be quiet and that I was up, I obviously didn't want to wake him at such a cruel hour.

Stumbling out of my room in a sleep filled haze, almost walking into the door frame and tripping over my shoes, I made my way to the kitchen to find Pops trying to cook breakfast and silently arguing with Thor who put his hammer in front of the fridge yet again, Loki really is a bad influence on the God.

"Uncle Thor please move the hammer so I can have breakfast. Please." I requested giving him my puppy dog eyes knowing he can't resist them.

With a small grunt Thor moved his hammer and set it on top of the kitchen counter out of people way. Pops sent me a grateful look before pulling eggs, milk and cheese out of the fridge to make Captain America's famous omelette. I smiled slightly and moved to sit on one of the bar stools at the island counter and watched slowly as all the Avengers plus Loki, T'Challa and Shuri were woken up by the amazing smell. All but my boyfriend who could probably sleep through an earthquake, hurricane and tsunami all at once. It's a gift.

-1 hour later-

After breakfast I got ready to just come back here, grabbed my back, kissed my now awake boyfriend goodbye, hugged my Dads goodbye and made my way to the car with Happy prepared to take me to school. On the way Happy gave me a lecture on how I was basically representing Dad and SI so I should be on my best behaviour. It was boring and in all honest, I'd heard it before on the field trip to the zoo we have last month, that didn't end well in all honesty. It's better left saying some monkeys escaped and it totally wasn't my fault.

"Right Kid. We're hear, I'll pick you up tomorrow from here so message me when you're on your way back to school." He told me, I could tell he was going to miss me but I could also tell he was looking forward to the extra one hours sleep he was going to get tomorrow from not needing to drop me off.

"Bye Happy. Tell everyone I'll miss them. See you tomorrow and I'll give regular update and text you if anything happens." I told him before exiting the car and walking up to Ned who was waiting outside the bus ready for me.

"Hey man. You looking forward to the surprise field trip?" Ned asked as we stepped onto the bus.

"Not really. I'm gonna miss everyone at the tower. Wade arrived last night as well so I'm not gonna see him for like another two days." I sighed as we sat down next to each other in the middle of the bus.

"Hey penis. I know what the field trip is and you're gonna be in so much shit." Flash tainted as he passed us.

"Steve wouldn't be happy with your language." I mumbled so only Ned heard. We both giggled a little but everyone was soon quietened down by Mrs Robbins shouting at us.

"Okay so before we leave we must take role call to see who's here." She explained and started reading names off of her sheet. Everyone responded with a simple yes miss and everything was going well until she got to my name.

"Patricia Parker!" She yelled and looked directly at me. I simply ignored it and continued to stare out of the window until she shouted it again louder.

"Come on Penis just answer. Don't try and stall this." Flash huffed from the back of the bus.

"Fine. Peter Parker is here." I told her emphasising the work 'Peter'.

"What ever." She grumbled going back to role call.

-30 minutes later-

As we were driving I noticed a lot of places, it took a few seconds until it finally clicked as to where we were going. Stark Industries. Over night. Oh dear.

“Right kids. We're going to be there in roughly 5 minutes so please get you begs sorted, make sure your areas are clean and you have everything with you." Mrs Robbins told us from the front of the bus.

"I bet you'd recognise this way from your internship, if it was real." Flash sneered as if it was going to affect me.

Soon we pulled into the visitor parking lot and exited the car. I was slightly shaking with anxiety especially when Happy and two other security guards, Johnson and Stone (I don't know their first names) walked over to us and started running through the security guidelines.

"And finally and type of bullying or intolerance towards anyone inside this building with not be tolerated and the person doing it will be kicked out immediately. That could be in 10 minutes or at 2:00 in the morning. It will not be tolerated." Happy finished giving me a look that said 'I know something you don't know I know'. Shit.

"Okay now that that is out of the way with, follow us." Happy said leading us inside the lobby of the building by swiping his security card.

“Okay we're gonna give you all access passes. These are the lowest of the 10 levels you get get so basically all you can use them for is the toilet. We have a strict no re-printing policy and a display policy. In other words you must always have your pass on display on your outer most layer of clothing, if it's lost then you will be searched and escorted out of the building if it is not found. Let that be a warning to everyone." Johnson explained as Stone started handing out the passes, glossing over me, Ned and MJ of course, until everyone had them.

Me, Ned and MJ all had to pull out our avenger themed cards. Mine was half and half Iron Man and Captain America cause there my dads. Ned's was a combo of everyone's as he couldn't decide which one he preferred. MJ went for Nat cause MJ liked the fact that she, and Pepper, could control all of us and was the only girl original Avenger. MJ admires her as a icon for women.

"Okay everyone scan your passes as you walk through the scanner like this." Stone demonstrated as he scanned his pass and walked through the scanner with his hands out.

"Logan Stone. Security level clearance:8. No unauthorised items." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice announced.

"Now all of you do it." Happy instructed.

Everyone started going through the scanner, Flash being the most smug as his level 1 clearance was announced, until it got the the final three. Me, Ned and MJ. MJ decided to go first, F.R.I.D.A.Y announced her name, level 9 security clearance and the fact she had no unauthorised items with her. Next was Ned, F.R.I.D.A.Y announced his name, level 9 security clearance and the fact he had no unauthorised items. Next was me, I was dreading it.

"Come on Patricia, just admit your internship is fake now and save us all the trouble." Flash shouted over everyone making Happy stop and glare at him. He was about to make a move towards Flash but I put my hand out and stopped him.

"Just leave it Hap. He's not worth cancelling whatever Dad's got planned." I told him in a low voice trying to be unheard.

"He says one more thing and I'll knock him out." Happy threatened.

"I have no doubt you will." I sighed and decided I stalled enough. I quickly scanned my card and walked through the scanner with my hands up like everyone else.

"Peter Stark-Rodgers, level 10 security clearance. No unauthorised items. Mr Stark-Rodgers has already been informed of your arrival. Thank you for using the front entrance." F.R.I.D.A.Ys robotic but slightly sarcastic voice announced.

The tour started off normal. One of the actual interns, Owen, greeted us and me separately. We were quite good friends as he was one of the people to help me when Wade asked me out, I will be eternally grateful to him.

"Okay, our first stop on this tour is the avengers museum. You will be allowed to take photos but please refrain from touching anything as they could activate. Everything thing in this room is the real deal except a few things. We will also be trying to lift Thor's hammer in this room with him there of course." Owen explained. So, this is where Dads plans begin.

We walked into the museum and was greeted with 3 main area. Original Avengers, later added Avengers and Avengers associates. Then, I saw a red and blue display. Spider-Man has his own display IN THE LATER ADDED AVENGERS SECTION. Did this mean Dad wanted me to be an Avenger? What's going on? Did Fury know about this?

Ned grabbed my hand and led me to the display cases where I saw my old suit and computers next to replicas and photos of my current ones. This is so cool.

“Spider-Man is the latest mighty hero to join the Avengers in their mission to protecc the Earth and Asgard. Spider-Man has been described my many to be funny, witty and charming. He the only Avenger to have not revelled his identity yet but we are sure he will in due time. Fun facts about Spider-Man:

He is afraid of Spiders ironically,

He's a complete Daddy's boy,

He made his first suit himself,

He lives with Tony and Steve Stark-Rodgers,

And finally, he can rival Tony Stark-Rodgers levels of Sass." Ned read from the information

I silently groaned at the second fun fact knowing full well Dad was just trying to boost his ego. Oh well, it's kind of hard not to be true.

"Oo Penis Parker checking out the exhibit on his 'friends'." Flash sneered putting air quotes around 'friends'.

"Right, come along people. We have an exclusive lecture with Dr Banner on Gamma radiation and how it affects the human body. Everybody make and orderly que and and we can make our way there." Owen informed and instructed.

We all qued up with me and my friends at the back and started to walk towards the elevator to go to Bruce's lab. Once we found ourselves outside of the lab the reality of the situation set in, we're going to be talking to my Uncle Bruce. While no one in the class knows he's my Uncle and I'm with my Bully and Transphobic teacher. I dread to think what's about to happen.

"Okay kids. Be very polite and respectful, we don't want a code Green." Owen instructed before knocking on the door and waiting for Bruce to open it as Owen didn't have high enough clearance to open the door.

After a minute of waiting and no sign of Bruce Owen knocked again but to no avail. I knew that Bruce was working on a new project last night so it's highly likely he's asleep so I stepped forward, security card in hand and swiped it for entrance.

"Peter Parker, access granted." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice sounded from above the door way.

I opened the door slowly and saw Bruce asleep on the couch. Motioning for everyone to give me a minute I creeped into the room to gently wake him up.

"Uncle Bruce, you have to give my class a lecture. Uncle Bruce wake up." I said softly and gently shook him awake.

"What? Peter? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Bruce asked slowly sat up.

"I'm on a field trip and you're supposed to give a lecture to my class. They're all outside but you fell asleep." I informed him.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Ask them to give me a minute and I'll be mostly ready. Thanks Pete." Bruce replied scrambling to clean up a little bit and get sorted.

"He'll just be a minute." I informed my class while exiting the room waiting for Bruce when I heard Uncle Clint shifting in the vents. Oh no, this has been planned.

“Hello Midtown. Sorry for the delay, life of a stressed scientist. I'm sure most of you know what that's like. Come in, take a seat and please excuse the mess." Bruce greeted and opened the door wider for us to enter.

We all shuffled into the highly cluttered room and sat down in one of the fold out chairs set us in the centre of the room infront  of three dry erase boards. Uncle Bruce started his lecture but I soon tuned him out as I had heard it all before.

"Peter!" Clint yelled popping his head out from the vent with a grin on his face.

"Barton." I said in a monotone voice to hopefully convey my disinterest in whatever he was planning.

"I was asking if I could go into your room to borrow some silly string. Tony fucked with a few of my arrows and I'm not happy about it. I was literally shocked!" He shouted the last sentence making me wince and cover my ears.

"Yes you may but only one can. I need the rest for Loki cause he's the only one out of all of you that hasn't had a string attack yet. Hopping to change that soon." I informed.

"Cool. I'm taking the blue one. Bye, see you later." He waved before disappearing back into the vents and crawling away.

"He has this all planned doesn't he?" I asked Uncle Bruce signing slightly.

"Sorry kid." He smirked and continued with his lecture despite people only being focused on gawping at me.

Soon after that his lecture was finished and we moved on. Owen took us to a more general development lab where people started their testing to see if it was possible and worth perusing. As soon as we entered I was greeted with Shuri running towards me and hugging me tightly.

"Shuri, you literally saw me last night. Why are you hugging me so tightly?" I asked smiling slightly.

"I still missed you. Brother has been boring but these labs are very interesting, still they would be more so with you here." She told me pulling away and looking at my astonished class.

"Hello children of Midtown High School. I am Shuri Princess of Wakanda and this is my brother, the king." Shuri introduced smiling at everyone's shocked faces.

"I can introduce myself sister." T'Challa told her.

"Now you know how I feel." She told him smirking before walking off to see one of the experiments happening in the room.

We looked around the lab for a little while, I helped a few people with equations and how to improve their testing. Shuri and I shouted memes and vines at each other from across the room. Flask and Mrs Robbins glared at me any chance they got.

"Right Children, it's time for lunch. You've been privileged enough to have lunch on the level 7 balcony right near the landing pad. Please be calm and sensible and respectful of the employees eating there." Owen explained and lead us up to the eating deck.

Once there I immediately noticed Uncle Thor and Loki waiting around the corner obviously looking for me. They truly planned this. Anyway, me, Ned and MJ all walked over to an empty table and they took out their lunches when I noticed I left mine in the kitchen this morning. Shoot.

"Peter!" I hear Thor yell as he and Loki walk around the corner with his arms out.

"Hello Thor. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked jokingly formally.

"Does one need a reason to visit his favourite nephew?" Thor asked bringing me into a hug, possibly crushing everyone of my ribs in the process, while Loki stood awkwardly to the side.

"If your all going to embarrass me can I ask you a favour in return?" I asked the brothers.

"Of course Peter! Anything for my nephew!" Thor all but yelled and clapped me on the back.

"Yeah, I left my lunch on the kitchen counter today. Could you possibly run up and get it for me please." I requested when a flying object fell from the sky.

My lunch.

"YOUR WELCOME!" I heard Sam yell from above us.

"THANKS BIRD BRAIN!" I yelled back at him and sat back down as the table, Thor and Loki soon following.

"Peter, I was wondering later if you could help me with my magic. I've been trying to work on my long distance aim and I think you'd be the perfect person to practice with." Loki asked shyly, he still isn't comfortable with all of us yet but he's made loads of progress.

"To hit or to avoid?" I jokingly asked earning a slight laugh out of the giant.

"To miss. I'll place the object I want to hit next to you and 'throw' a spell at it. If you're next to it it gives me more motivation to not hit it." Loki explained.

"Yeah sure I'll do that. What time were you thinking?" I asked.

"Well, you're class is staying the night and tomorrow day so maybe we could find time tonight or tomorrow night." Loki said making me realise my entire class has witnessed this entire encounter. For frick sake.

"Peter!" The deep voice of Bucky yelled from the doorway to the balcony.

My entire class looked in shock as I hugged good bye to the Gods and James 'Bucky' Barnes walked over to me with a bag and an apron saying 'Kiss the cook' on it. Once he was within range I could smell the contents of the bag. White chocolate and caramel cookies. My favourite.

"I made cookies and thought you might like some while they're hot." He explained handing me the beg witch I immediately accepted and took a cookie from.

"Thank you Uncle Bucky." I said but it was muffled by the whole cookie I shoved into my mouth. Classy.

"Hey you said you'd wait for me!" I hear my boyfriend shout appearing at the doorway and running towards me with his arms spread.

"I said I was leaving in one minute and you could come if you wanted. I never said I'd wait for you cause I know how long you can take." Bucky complained to Wade who crushed me into a hug and kissed my lips briefly.

My entire class and teacher were stunned at this point. Every single jaw, except Ned and MJ's, was on the floor. When Wade kissed me I could faintly see from the corner of my eye my teacher so red and angry. Close minded female dog.

"I've not seen you all day how are you?" Wade asked pulling away.

"I'm fine, you saw me less than a few hours ago. Not much changed." I told him smiling a little and pulling him into another kiss. I did this to annoy my teacher but mainly because I just loved to kiss my boyfriend. Sue me.

"I know but anything could happen while I'm not there. I love you too much to allow anything to happen to you." He said to me after a solid 40 seconds of kissing.

"Right well, I'm gonna go back upstairs. Wade, you can stay with Peter as long as you keep your hands to yourself." Bucky warned before walking off back into the tower and Me and Wade sat down with me on his lap.

After a few minuets the shock wore off and people started whispering and pointing at me and Wade. Nothing I didn't expect if I'm honest but it's a lot more annoying than I thought it would be.

“I love you Wade." I said putting my head on his chest and eating my cookies.

"I lub you too Pete." He responded making me giggle a little. "And you're ass that will be mine tonight." He whispered seductively into my ear and gently grabbed my ass.

"You two make me want to be sick." MJ joked making a disgusted face at us before continuing with her lunch.

"Right everyone, we have ten minutes before we need to move on." Owen warned.

To be continued...

[imagine-this-fandom]

The Rescue: BNHA x Fem! Reader- Newfoundland Dog

She gently placed Izuku into a glass cage before pulling you to a back door labeled "Dogs," the Golden retriever slipping in behind you before you closed the door.

Upon entering, you were greeted by lots of barking, the dogs obviously not using their indoor voices. The wall of sound left you a bit dazed as you took in the activity in front of you.  You were actually surprised by the variety back here. There was a husky, Pitbull, and even a German Shepard. The room was rather large and open for them to interact with potential owners, various dog toys strewn across the floor with the dog kennels to the back.

The animals seemed to have an unspoken respect for Inko. They made sure to get out of the way as she walked or stop playing long enough for her to pass by before continuing their fun. It was amusing to watch. You followed her path with your eyes before she came to a stop next to two big dogs. You paled as she led the bigger animal over to you.

"Here he is, (y/n)! This is Taishiro!"

Inko looked absolutely tiny compared to the behemoth of a dog beside her.

"Are you sure that's a dog? I'm fairly certain that is, in fact, a bear."

You eyed the golden-brown dog cautiously a bit intimidated by his size and the fact that if he so chose, any walk would become a drag with no contest on who was stronger.

Inko laughed and ruffled the fur on his head.

"He's a dog, just a big one. This big boy is a Newfoundland. Sure he can have a bite if he's in danger, but he's really just a big teddy bear. He's a sweetheart."

Tai cocked his head to the side and looked you over as Inko continued to reassure you.  He was skeptical about this whole being adopted out thing but with no foreseeable human future for him, he would have to put his trust in Inko and Nezu. You were obviously a bit intimidated by him, but he hoped he could prove to you that you had nothing to worry about.

You offered him a shy smile that quickly grew as he wagged his tail.

"see! He likes you! I'll go get some gear for you and you can get to know him a bit." Inko patted you on the shoulder before leaving to get supplies from the main half of the store, not noticing or electing to ignore your panicked look.  

You swallowed nervously before looking back at Tai. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move, not wanting to scare you off. You gave a nervous wave.

"Hey, Taishiro... I'm (y/n)."

He stepped forward and pushed his head into your offered hand, causing you to give a shaky laugh.

"Inko was right, you're not scary... sorry for misjudging you."

You began to pet him and were pleased when he stepped closer so you had easier access. He was so fluffy! He was a brown dog with golden tones in his fur and intense golden eyes. He was quite a big dog, big enough to bowl you over without much effort, but he was gentle with you.

Inko came back to find you sitting on the floor next to Tai, petting his stomach as he laid on his back for you. Your face was scrunched up in happiness as you talked to him, complimenting his behavior and telling him he was a good boy.  All too soon though, it was time to go. She made you promise to give updates over the phone before sending you on your way with the big dog.

~~~~~~~~

Taishiro was very confused when he woke up the next morning. After the accident that transformed him into a dog, he was used to the hustle and bustle of a crowded dog kennel. He was not used to the peace and quiet of your apartment. Usually, he would have been woken up early by Kirishima to spar, or as close as they could come to sparring in these forms. Still, he much preferred your couch to the kennels that were in the pet store.

"Morning sleepy head"

He looked up as you walked into the room, your uniform from yesterday traded for black shorts, a tank top, and a suspiciously familiar-looking yellow hoodie.

You sat down on the couch next to him and ruffled the fur on the top of his head.

"good morning Taishiro! Thanks for being a good boy and letting me sleep in."

He watched you intently, trying to place what about your outfit stuck out to him. He almost fell off the couch when he realized. You were wearing his merch. His pro hero merch. You had a Fatgum hoodie.

"what's up, do I have something on my jacket? "

You quickly searched the yellow material, a concerned crease between your eyes.

"I better not, this is my favorite hoodie..." You sighed with relief upon finding nothing and smiled back at Tai.

"Good news bub, all is good and my hoodie is safe. "

Had he been human, Tai would have been smirking. You had absolutely no idea who you were talking to and he found that hilarious. He was quite flattered that of all heroes, you had chosen him as your favorite.

You turned on the tv and settled onto the couch, pulling the hoodie close, your hands vanishing in the oversized sleeves. It was a good replica, he had to admit, but his real costume was a lot bigger. He took a moment and imagined what you would look like in it. He snorted lightly in amusement. You would be swimming in it. It would be really cute, but it was just a passing thought, seeing as he was a dog now and couldn't give you that opportunity. The cheerful mood he was in before slipped from him as the thoughts of his new life set in. He sunk onto the couch next to you.

You weren't sure what had changed, but you noticed that he seemed sadder somehow. Now that just wouldn't do. You carefully pulled his head into your lap and focused on petting him while some baking competition played on tv. The day passed in much the same way. You watched tv and made a commentary for him, occasionally looking down at him with a tut and an explanation of how the contestant went wrong.  It was early evening when you decided it was time for your relaxation to come to an end.

Tai was content and on the verge of sleep before you moved to get up. He wasn't having it and moved so more of him was in your lap, effectively trapping you on the couch. He was comfy gosh darn it.

You laughed and started to playfully shove at the mass of fur on your lap.

"Tai, get off me, you big galoot! I wanted to take you on a walk before sunset."

He begrudgingly removed himself from your lap and you skipped to your bedroom to change. As comfy as the hoodie and shorts combo was, it was still snowy from the night before. Tai was surprised with how quickly you had warmed up to him. As anxious as you were yesterday, any doubts about keeping him seemed totally gone. He hopped off the couch and settled by the door to wait for you. You were sweet, and he could see himself enjoying his time with you. Not to mention you obviously had good taste based on your choice of hero.

You emerged wearing Red riot leggings and a Suneater beanie. Tai was in awe of you. Not only were you his fan, but you also supported his protegees. The more he got to know you, the more he liked what he was seeing.

You grinned as you noticed his tail going a mile a minute.

"Ready to go, big fella?"

You clipped the leash onto his collar and took him outside.

~~~~~~ Tai quickly fell into a routine with you. You took him on a walk in the morning before work, Next, you had breakfast and then got ready for work. Tai was quickly learning to hate the time left alone. Back at the store, he was able to talk to the others, especially because he was able to talk to everyone hit by the quirk regardless of species. Now that he was left to his own devices, he didn't have that much to do.

One day while you were gone, he decided to properly explore the apartment. The living room was where he was most familiar, seeing as that's where you had him sleep. He hadn't gone into your room yet because he wanted to give you privacy, but... He was curious. He decided he might as well check it out. He pushed the door open with his nose and looked around with interest. His heart warmed at your choice of decor. You had several Fat Gum posters hanging on your walls as well as a few of Suneater and Red Riot as well. There was a singular All Might poster as well. It was a small room, seeing as you couldn't afford a large apartment. It was cozy though. Your bed was pushed into the far corner away from the door. It had many pillows, some stuffed animals, and what seemed to be a weighted blanket. He hopped onto the bed to get a better view. Your room smelled strongly of your favorite perfume and had a very cozy feeling. He had come to associate the smell of you with relaxation and safety, so it wasn't long before his eyes drifted closed.

When you came home two hours later, you weren't expecting the empty living room. Your first instinct was to panic and you started a frantic search. You scolded yourself internally, walking through your day to make absolutely sure he didn't have a chance to run away. You quickly ran to your room to grab a better jacket to go look for him. As soon as you burst through the door, you froze. He was sleeping, in your room. You gave a tired sigh and smacked your head against the door frame lightly for jumping to conclusions.

"You are so lucky you're cute because you just gave me a heart attack." You muttered to yourself, adrenaline fading. Stepping further into the room you threw your jacket over your desk chair and slipped off your shoes. You faceplanted onto the bed beside your bed, tired from the scare on top of the shift you just worked. What you didn't expect was Tai to feel the shift on the bed and subsequently roll over to cuddle with you. You suddenly had a face full of fur and a near 200-pound dog smothering you. You laughed painfully and shoved him off you, waking him in the process.

"Hey silly, try not to squish me, I still have to get you dinner, you still need me. You can make me into a  pancake later."

He stared at you in sleepy surprise as he slowly woke up. His first coherent thought was that he liked waking up to such a pretty smiling face. And you were offering to feed him? Bonus. Dog food was not appetizing as he still regained his taste from being a human. Still, there wasn't much he could do about it besides stealing human food from you when he had the chance. You would scold him, but he could tell you weren't really mad at him.

You scratched behind his ears and sat up, scooting up further on the bed so you could pet him more easily.

"You had me worried carebear. You usually greet me at the door. I was so scared you'd gone and run away."

You squished his face between your hands and kissed the top of his nose.

"I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you. You're really important to me, you know." You hugged his head to your chest and before peppering his ears and face with kisses.

Tai accepted the affection happily, but a part of him felt guilty for making you worry. Sure he was just your pet, but you really did love him at this point. He didn't like the spike of distress that coursed through him as you told him how upset you had been. He made a silent vow to himself not to make you worry again.

Little did he know that you would turn the tables on him later and he would be the worried one.

~~~~~

You had gotten sick. You weren't sure how, but you were fairly certain that a coworker had given you their cold. It wasn't that bad, but you were still fairly miserable. You woke up on your day off with a stuffy nose and throat feeling of sandpaper. It was far from pleasant.

You carefully slipped out of bed, careful to keep from waking Tai, who had taken to sleeping on your bed after you had invited him the first night when you thought he ran away.

While you would have liked nothing better than to lay in bed and wallow in how awful you felt, there were some errands that needed to be run. Sickness or not, you had to be up and moving today.

You got dressed in a simple Deku T-shirt and leggings before pulling on your fatgum hoodie, wanting to be comfy if you were going to face the masses. Pushing the sleeves up so they no longer covered your hands, you sat on your desk chair and mentally prepared yourself to leave the house. Just as you were putting on your shoes to leave, you heard Tai whine.

You gave him what you hoped was more smile than grimace and patted his head.

"Hey, bud. No walk until later. I don't feel too well. I'll make sure you get a short walk when I get back though. I have to go to the store first."

Tai was absolutely not having it. He could tell that you weren't feeling well by your miserable posture. Hunched in on yourself and wrapped in your comfort items with a red nose and bags under your eyes, you made for a pretty pitiful picture. He wasn't about to let you leave like that! You needed sleep. And soup. He wasn't sure how he would manage the second thing, but he was determined to make sure you took it easy today.

As soon as your hand reached the doorknob, you felt a warm body plant itself in front of you, effectively blocking the door.

"Carebear, I need to run errands. You've got to let me go out."

Tai made a disgruntled noise and stayed put, knowing that it would be a pain to move him and you currently did not have the strength.

You, of course, took his actions to mean something else.

"Are you sour because I said no walk till later? I promise as soon as I'm done with errands I'll be back and we can go for a short walk. If you're really upset about it we can go for a longer walk, but I still need to go run errands."

Tai just planted himself more firmly against the door and looked up at you with defiance shining in his eyes. He was not going to let you leave. Had he been human, he would have simply picked you up and brought you back to bed, but that wasn't an option. He would have to be creative.

Seeing as Tai didn't look like he was moving, you made a decision You stepped back and put your hands up in surrender. You turned around and started to make your way towards the couch.

"Fine, fine, I'll stay..."

Once you saw him trot back into the living room, you grabbed your stuff and booked it to the door, slamming it shut behind you before Tai could catch up. You grinned triumphantly at him through the living room window, cheeks glowing from exertion, but eyes bright with victory. Tai put his front paws against the window sill, staring at you with peeved disbelief. You had tricked him! He was just trying to look out for you. He gave you an unimpressed look before turning around and sitting with his back to the window, effectively giving you the cold shoulder.

You shook your head with a small smile before walking away, determined to go get your errands done quickly. You made a mental note to grab a treat for Tai to apologize for tricking him, he was still a good boy after all, albeit a salty one.

You returned that evening with several shopping bags, your energy all but spent. Slipping into the apartment, you had to take a moment to lean against the door for support. You frowned a little when Tai didn't greet you at the door but you didn't panic like last time. setting the groceries aside, you searched the apartment. Like last time, he was in your room. He wasn't asleep though. He sat in a corner of your room, lifting his head when you entered before standing and turning his back to you before sitting back down again.

"Awwww, still grumpy from this morning? I'm sorry carebear. I just had to get some things done I'm back now. I've got treats for you..."

You tried to coax him out of the corner, but he was resolute in his sulking. You pouted to yourself and headed back to the kitchen to work on dinner, deciding to give him his space.

As much as Tai wanted to be annoyed with you, he couldn't stay upset with you for long. Within ten minutes of your return, he was wandering out of the room to come see you. He told himself it was just to make sure you were alright, but really he admitted that he just missed you.

You hummed to yourself as best you could as you worked on dinner. It was supposed to be a really simple soup, but concentrating was becoming difficult with the headache that had made its presence know while you were out and about. That's why you weren't surprised when you cut yourself while chopping onions. You hissed in pain and instinctively shoved the offending digit into your mouth.

Tai was by your side in an instant, eyes wide with concern and body tensed.  You gave him a sympathetic look and removed the finger from your mouth to show him.

"It's okay boy, it wasn't a bad cut, it just startled me is all. I should have been paying more attention. I'll get it fixed up and finish dinner, then we can relax. Sound good?"

He relaxed a little bit, but you could tell he was still on edge. You quickly sanitized the cut and put a bandage on before finishing the soup and grabbing a bowl.

Once you sat down to eat, Tai was next to you, carefully examining your newly bandaged finger. Once he had deemed it worthy, he sat next to you, leaning against you.

After finishing your soup, you stretched and got up, sniffling pathetically as you started to get your jacket, preparing to take Tai on the walk you promised him.

He quickly hopped up and stopped you in your tracks, gaze fierce. You frowned in confusion and paused, not used to seeing him so intense.

" What's wrong buddy? I promised you a walk."

You were so oblivious sometimes and Tai was so done with being a dog. It was hard to properly convey his worry in this form. He decided since he couldn't outright tell you, he would have to show you. He stepped forward and snagged your sleeve cuff in his teeth before jerking it towards your room. You followed him with a puzzled expression, not quite sure what he was up to.

"Yes, this is my room. What did you want to show me? The bed? Why'd you bring me here?"

Tai released your sleeve and jumped onto the bed before grabbing the back of your shirt and tugging. You quickly lost your balance and toppled onto the plush surface with an undignified squeak of protest.

"Taishiro, what on Earth are you doing?"

He paid no mind to your question and instead grabbed your blanket. He dragged it over your protesting form before laying across your stomach so you couldn't get up. That ought to keep her, he grouched to himself.

You struggled for all of one minute before accepting your fate with a mumbled insult about him being a jerk.  It didn't take long for you to settle down though. Soon enough, you were petting Tai and drifting off. You leaned up and kissed his nose before giving him a mumbled goodnight followed by an "I love you"

Tai smiled tiredly and licked your hand in response before he too surrendered to sleep.

~~~~~

Taishiro was seriously starting to lose it. He had been your pet for five months now and it was starting to catch up to him. It was safe to say at this point that he adored you. He found himself looking forward to spending the day with you. He loved spending time with you, no matter what you were up to. He liked the way you talked to him like he was still human. You were so funny and kind and he was getting addicted to your laugh.

He wasn't foolish enough to mistake what he was feeling. He had fallen for you. Hard. This complicated things. He was a dog. He wasn't supposed to love you. Sure he had been human before and was still a human in his mind, but that didn't change the fact that the situation was messed up. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew things had to change.

He was startled out of his ramblings by you rattling his leash. You were wearing his favorite outfit on you since the weather had warmed up. You had on black shorts and a tank top accompanied by the too big fat gum hoodie.

"Hey carebear, up for a walk? The park is beautiful right now!"

He couldn't deny you anything if he tried. He bounded over to you, tail in overdrive. You snorted in amusement as he bumped his nose against your cheek when you clipped his leash on.

"Eager today?" You asked cheerfully, bumping his shoulder playfully with your hip.

The two of you were quickly out the door and on your way to the park. Once you reached it, you closed your eyes and tilted your face towards the sun as you enjoyed the fresh breeze that carried the scent of freshly mowed grass and the sound of happy chatter from the other park goers.

You beamed at Tai as you started along the trail. He was pleased you were so happy. Even though he loved how you looked, you were always a bit shy about how you looked when you went out to the park with him. You had confided in him that the joggers on the trail made you a bit self-conscious. He saw your outfit and attitude today as a step in the right direction. You were just enjoying the nice day and a nice walk, nothing else.

After about an hour of walking, you settled onto a shaded bench, hoodie now tied around your waist by the sleeves due to the heat. Fanning yourself lightly, You sighed in relief.

"We should head home soon buddy, you must be dying in this heat!"

Tai could only pant in agreement, the heat seeping through his fur. Apparently, this breed thrived in colder climates.  He perked up though when he saw an ice cream cart a few meters away. He grabbed the edge of your shirt and whined to get your attention.

You laughed and allowed him to lead you, confused but interested nonetheless. It quickly became apparent where he was taking you. You rolled your eyes and ruffled his fur on his head.

"You want a cold treat, huh bud? Fine. But only this once as a treat."

You smiled and walked over to the vendor and purchased a scoop of vanilla icecream for Tai and (Favorite flavor) for yourself. Content with your purchase, you hurried back to the bench. Tai was dancing from foot to foot, elated to be getting ice cream after such a long time without the frozen treat. It was just as heavenly as he remembered. Setting the paper bowl on the ground for him, you settled back on the bench and ate yours.

All was going fine until a jogger stopped in the shade nearby. You gave her a polite smile and she nodded in response. Her gaze was friendly enough until it drifted from your face to your frozen treat. She grimaced and looked you up and down before giving a disapproving tut and continuing on.

The sweet taste of the ice cream quickly began to become bitter in your mouth as her look of judgment flickered through your mind.  You bit your lip as tears began to sting the corners of your eyes. Setting the bowl aside, you unknotted the hoodie from your waist and zipped it up to your chin. Tai was surprised to see your transformation when he looked up from his clean bowl.

Giving a tight smile, you threw away both paper bowls.

"I think we should head home, carebear. It's been a long day."

Tai trailed after you with uncertainty, not liking this muted version of the (y/n) he loved. You were subdued, smile there, but clearly fake.  He quickly found the source of your discomfort when the original jogger passed with a friend, whispering about you and the ice cream. You wouldn't have been able to hear the cruel words, but being a dog did not afford Tai the same deafness. What he heard made him livid.

How dare they? How dare they talk about his gummy bear like that?! You were perfect to him and they were putting you down as if they had any right. He couldn't help the deep growl that left his throat as he bared his teeth at the two.

You whipped around at the sound, having never heard so much as a threatening whine from him before.

"Taishiro! What's gotten into you?" You worriedly tugged him away, hastily leading him back towards the apartment.

Once you reached home, you dropped to your knees in front of him, cupping his face with your hands as you looked him over.

"What happened there, bud? You doing okay?"

He was touched by your worry, but truly he was more worried about you. He knew you were never the most confident in yourself, so to see someone so cruelly tear that away from you made him angry. You deserved the world and he was not going to stand by while someone hurt you. He licked your cheek in an effort to calm you, reassuring you that he was alright now.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you happily buried your face in his shoulder, taking comfort in his soft warmth. After a few minutes of just snuggling against him, you stood and unclipped his leash.

"Go on bud, I'll be there in a sec."

You removed your shoes before heading to the kitchen. You fed Tai and hesitated in front of the fridge before going to your room. Tai was not going to let that slide. He quickly followed you and grabbed the edge of the hoodie to drag you back to the kitchen. Once you saw the destination, your face pinched in annoyance.

"it's okay Tai, I'm not hungry tonight. You eat up. I'm going to head for bed."

As you started to head for your room again, Tai once again snagged your jacket.

"Tai, I said drop it." Your tone was firm this time, not in the mood for his antics. He repeated it once more time, this time he growled to punctuate how serious he was taking this.

"Taishiro, let go. I am going to bed, and that's final."

When he held fast to the hoodie, you had had enough and unzipped the article of clothing. Letting it fall limp in his grip, you went to your room and closed the door, eliminating his chances of getting you out, what with the lack of thumbs.

Had you known how to speak dog, you would have heard some fairly colorful language on the other side of your door. You did your best to ignore it though and got ready for bed.

While Taishiro was impulsive and determined to solve problems, your stubbornness was easily a match for him. He paced anxiously in front of your door before he heard you rap your knuckles against your side. He waited for the telltale twist of the knob, but he was disappointed.

"Goodnight Carebear. I love you, be a good boy out there, alright?"

He was beyond frustrated now. You refused to listen to him and had isolated yourself with your thoughts and he couldn't get to you. He fumed silently, his heart breaking for you as he tried to come up with ways to encourage you to feel better about yourself. He eventually settled down with a discouraged huff and hoped he would have a clearer mind in the morning.

He did not end up sleeping until morning. In the late hours of the night, he woke to a strange feeling coursing through him. Tingles and warmth spread through his limbs like fire through his veins. He shut his eyes tightly as he weathered through the sensation. The last time he felt like this was when he was hit by that godforsaken animal quirk that got him into the whole mess.

Once it felt like it had reached its peak, it vanished altogether with a quiet pop. The relief was immediate. Tai carefully opened his eyes before pausing in confusion. The room looked completely different. He was seeing it from an all-new perspective. When he tried to move, he was stunned to discover the reason for his new line of sight. He was human again. He gasped and immediately pinched himself, pleased to find that this was not in fact a dream.

He was elated. However, something important had not come back with the transformation. His clothes were missing. He briefly considered waking you up to ask for help, but quickly vetoed that idea. That was a good way to traumatize you and get arrested. He decided his best choice was to call his agency. They had plenty of his spare costumes and clothes and were actually fairly close to your apartment.

He snagged your phone from where you had left it on the counter in your haste to escape to your room. He took a moment to marvel at the size difference between the two of you. Though he was in his skinny form, he had gotten to know you from the perspective of someone smaller than you so the shift in perspective was disconcerting.

The call to his agency took longer than he hoped it would. He had to give a short summary of what had happened before promising to give a full account the next day. It was tiring, but he was soon dressed and comfortable. He decided he would let you sleep and spring this whole thing on you at a much more decent hour.

~~~~~~~

Without any clue of the mess that was soon to be, you dragged yourself out of bed the next morning. You were decidedly crankier due to your favorite cuddle buddy being locked out of your room by yours truly. You were starting to regret your tantrum and resolved to yourself that you shouldn't have let the incident at the park get to you. Rubbing your eyes with a yawn, you stepped out into the living room only to freeze as a heavenly smell grabbed your senses. Picking up your hoodie from where Tai had left it by your door, you slipped it on and followed your nose to the kitchen.

You froze for the second time in the brief time you had been awake. There was a man in your kitchen. But not just any man, the man you had been crushing on since you had first seen him in action shortly after you had moved. Fat gum was in your kitchen, and... cooking breakfast?

You concluded that this was simply an elaborate dream and walked in to stand next to him.

"Whatever you're making smells amazing."

He turned around so quickly that you almost got whacked upside the head with a spatula.

"(y/n), gummy bear, you're awake!"

His smile was absolutely radiant and your cheeks quickly retaliated with a dusting of red.

"Y-yeah. Good morning. "

He pulled a chair out at the counter for you and you quickly complied, sitting and watching him with awe.

"I just made french toast. I hope you don't mind."

He placed a plate in front of you with the prettiest breakfast you had ever seen on it.

"Best dream ever," you mumbled to yourself before taking a bite, almost melting at the taste.

Tai grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It's, uh, not a dream sugar. I'm actually here. Have been for a while actually. It's pretty hard to explain."

You listened patiently before shaking your head and pointing your fork at him.

"Yeah, no. There's no way this isn't a dream. There isn't a single realistic thing in this whole sequence. The man of my dreams makes me breakfast? Yeah, a nice domestic fantasy, but just that. A fantasy."

You made a vague gesture with the fork between the two of you.

"Besides, you are so far out of my league."

He frowned and stepped forward, flicking your forehead lightly.

"Now you cut that out. I am perfectly in your league. Don't you dare badmouth yourself again, honey."

You pouted and clutched your forehead in pain before realization started to dawn, pout fading into a look of pure shock.

"You can't feel pain in dreams..." you murmured absently.

"And I told you, it's not a dream. Now eat your breakfast and I'll explain."

You nodded dumbly and shoveled another forkful of the french toast into your mouth as Tai looked on encouragingly. He leaned on the counter.

"So, I was hit by a quirk roughly six months ago. This quirk was suped up on an experimental quirk enhancement drug. "

he frowned as he remembered getting caught in the blast of gas that had formed after the criminal's quirk went haywire.

"This quirk turned me and several others into animals. The pros tried everything and weren't able to reverse it. Those of us struck by it had to resolved ourselves to spending the rest of our lives as animals."

You nodded along, thoroughly invested in the story

"Eventually, we were relocated to a pet store for care from a trusted parent of one of the heroes hit by the quirk. You may know her as Inko Midoriya."

At this revelation, you nearly choked on your food.

"WAIT! YOU MEAN, ALL THIS TIME... you...My dog Tai, That was you?" Your voice rose in both pitch and volume as both horror and embarrassment took over.

Tai simply laughed and took your hands, rubbing soothing circles on the back of them.

"It's alright gummy bear, it all worked out. I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to have taken care of me in such a vulnerable state. Sorry if I scared you."

You looked from his hands holding yours to the yellow sleeves of your hoodie before you quickly snatched your hands back and buried your face into them.

Tai had the nerve to laugh.

"sorry to fluster you. But I'm glad I could finally tell you the truth."

He had to lean in close to hear your muffled response.

"My crush was my dog!" You wailed into your hands, face alight with a bright blush.

He carefully moved your hands away before tilting your chin up tenderly.

"We can talk about this later if you want, maybe over coffee?"

You looked at him in disbelief.

"Are, are you asking me on a date?"

He grinned and kissed your nose.

"I most certainly am. I'd be a fool to not after all the time I've spent falling in love with you."

Taglist:

@witch-o-memes

@nightlygiggless

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 15

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M.

Ao3 | FFN

------------------------------

More Chapters

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*Six Weeks Later*

[Ron]

The flat is small but well-arranged. Bookshelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, maximizing the vertical space that only one of its residents can fully use. The kitchen is sparkling clean, save for two empty red wine-stained glasses in the sink. Usually, the dishes would be washed and stacked away before the clock strikes bedtime, but last night other, more fun activities got in the way.

The apartment's decor is simple — it has to balance the strikingly orange accent wall behind the television. The only other thing commanding attention is the large painting of a cityscape hanging on the wall across from the entry. It's an artistic rendering of a well-known skyline, characterized by neon lights, a replica of the Eiffel Tower, and a series of flashy hotels. Although the portrait might be recognizable to many, it's meaningful to only a few.

As the morning light peeks through the windows, the bedroom's blinds give up on filtering it out. The sun casts a ray across the pillows, illuminating the two sleeping figures entangled together in bed. Gentle and mild, the light is easier to ignore than an intense desert beam, and it takes a few moments for the tall, red-haired man to open his eyes.

When he does, he turns onto his side to bury his face into his pillow. The bed is warm and comfortable — the satin sheets were a worthwhile investment. Same for the pillow, which somehow maintains the perfect combination of cold and cozy. Ever since they bought a new, albeit expensive mattress, his back problems have become a thing of the past.

He smiles at the mountain of fluffy blankets beside him, topped with spirals of bushy brown locks. There's so much goddamn hair. It looks like a plush volcano of cushions is erupting with curly brown hair. He can't decide what he loves more: the explosion of brunette, the bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt, the black mens' boxers that have a little too much fabric for a woman, or the person it all belongs to.

Well, technically, the Cannons t-shirt and boxers are his, or at least, were his. But marriage is about sharing.

"Morning, wifey."

Hermione groans and covers her face with a pillow. "Too early."

Ron slips an arm around his wife, encouraging her to turn toward him. She obliges and snuggles up into the crook of his arm, where she fits perfectly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and nuzzles his head into her hair.

It would be easy to stay like this forever, ignoring real-life responsibilities. In a way, their bed has become an escape from reality, an oasis built upon the lessons they learned in Las Vegas. Defined by frequent 'I love you's, reprieves from work, and late-night explorations fueled by a glass of wine and the need to destress, it's the place that keeps them anchored to the magic. Who wouldn't want to stay forever?

But alas, they can't, as they have Maid of Honor and Best Man duties to attend to. Today is Harry and Ginny's wedding, and within a few hours, they need to transition from the carefree vacationers they became in Vegas to the highly organized planners helping to orchestrate the festivities.

Ron groans. Although their friends know they're together — they put on quite a show back in Las Vegas, after all — they haven't revealed the extent of their relationship, and the worst part about being in public together is pretending that Hermione's just his girlfriend.

"We should just tell everyone," murmurs Ron into Hermione's hair.

She chuckles and snuggles closer. "After the wedding. Let's not steal their thunder."

Steal their thunder. To be honest, Ron has frequently fantasized about stealing Harry and Ginny's thunder. A small part of him is jealous of their hen and stag weekend in Las Vegas and their elaborate wedding. Ron wants everyone to celebrate him and Hermione, and as time passes, he grows more desperate for them all to know.

"I want to steal their thunder."

"I know." Hermione gently pushes him over on his back and slides on top of him. The movement is swift and natural, and as always, she fits like a glove.

"Hmmm, hi," he says right before their lips meet. The kiss lingers; Hermione's teeth lightly latch to his bottom lip, driving him wild. Without breaking their kiss, Hermione shifts some of her weight onto her hips. She knows exactly what she's doing, and if Ron doesn't stop this train, they'll be late.

"Er-my-nee," he groans, pulling away. She pouts at him with her wide chocolate brown eyes, and it's all he can do to resist tangling himself back up in her arms. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you wish we had more thunder?"

Hermione brushes a tuft of hair from Ron's forehead. "Sometimes. But I still wouldn't change a thing."

Ron smiles as she leans down for another kiss. Her fingers thread into her wild curls, prompting him to flip her over and land on top. He groans when she wraps her legs around his waist.

"You know we don't have time for this," he says between kisses. "We should get rea—"

"Shhhhh." She pulls him into her embrace and tightens her leg lock around his hips. "There's always time."

"Hey!" he teases, then leaning down toward her ear to whisper, "I take offense to that."

Ron doesn't give her time to respond before connecting his mouth to hers for another kiss. He can smell his cologne from the night before on her skin, yet it still tastes like Hermione when his lips travel from her mouth to the nape of her neck. A soft moan escapes her lips and sends him into a tizzy that leaves nothing else to do but get lost in her.

Six weeks in, and he's still convinced he'll never get sick of snogging Hermione Granger.

Plus, she's right — there's always time.

x

Harry and Ginny's wedding is just as elaborate as their weekend of partying in Las Vegas, but of course, classy. The venue is a converted warehouse, which initially horrified Molly, Ron and Ginny's mum, but it's unrecognizable after a few hours of decorating. They tie the knot underneath a trellis of climbing vines and twinkling lights illuminating the exposed brick wall behind them. Cafe lights drape from the ceiling beams, filtering the room's color just enough that everyone appears to glow. Each row of seats is marked by a simple bouquet and a periwinkle ribbon that matches the color of the bridesmaids' dresses, and the aisle appears to have been assaulted by flower petals, courtesy of Victoire, Ron and Ginny's niece, who recently discovered the true strength of her throwing arm.

Ginny has insisted that she and Harry walk down the aisle together as equals. Although originally disgruntled at the pushback on tradition, their father, Arthur, chokes up when he watches the pair approach the altar. Ginny's eyes sparkle with rare tears, and Harry can't keep his gaze off her radiant smile.

They're a couple in love, and there's not a doubt in the room.

Ginny's dress is simple — Hermione had said something about satin, but Ron doesn't remember the details. It's one of those dresses that doesn't dare pull focus from the woman wearing it, not that any dress could. Ron's always resented the Weasleys' fiery red hair and the way it sticks out like a sore thumb, but Ginny makes him think that maybe it isn't so bad after all.

While everyone watches the couple, Ron chances a glance at Hermione across the altar. He can hardly stand seeing her in her periwinkle bridesmaid dress, and he hopes to heaven his gawking isn't too noticeable. When he shifts his eyes in her direction, she turns her head back toward the bride and groom.

She was checking him out, too.

He doesn't have to keep his eyes on her for his imagination to run wild. That periwinkle dress turns white, and suddenly it's Hermione walking down the aisle. Her hair is tucked up into a spiral on top of her head, a few wisps escaping to frame her face.

Since it's his sister's wedding, Ron forces the image out of his mind, but he can't stop a wistful smile from forming on his lips and staying there throughout the ceremony.

When Harry and Ginny arrive at the altar, the music slows to a stop, and the officiant steps out from behind a curtain.

"Well, hello, folks!" says the blonde-haired man in a thick, mumbling American accent.

The wedding guests stare in silence at the man, who's dressed in white from head to toe, a greasy black wig barely covering his blonde locks.

Harry and Ginny burst into laughter, which breaks the seal for everyone else to follow suit.

"Yes! You got an Elvis impersonator!" shouts Fred, Ron and Ginny's brother, from the front row. "Someone check Mum's pulse."

With that, Ron snaps his head toward his mum, whose face has collapsed into her hands. Her body is heaving with what can only be sobs, or…

Laughter. Ron grins when he realizes that his mother's laughing hysterically.

At Molly's outburst, the tension and stuffiness of a formal event dissipate, and the ceremony continues flawlessly, having now been marked by Harry and Ginny's personalities. Elvis speaks to their bond, and even though he doesn't know the couple, he manages to capture how they approach life, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves and marching to their own beat. They've written heartfelt but humorous vows, expertly eliciting laughs and tears from their guests while they read them with shaky hands. They share their first kiss as a married couple to a round of applause and a standing ovation. Emboldened by the support, Harry picks up Ginny and drapes her over his shoulder as he skips back down the aisle to a chorus of cheers and whistles.

The wedding party follows the happy couple back down the aisle, starting with Ron and Hermione. They link arms and lock eyes, sharing a small, knowing smile. Ron wonders if she's also imagining the roles reversed, everyone clapping and celebrating for them as they traipse down the aisle after tying the knot.

What would the pseudo-Elvis have said about them if this were their ceremony, not Harry and Ginny's? Would he have spoken to how they disliked each other when they first met, and the utter disbelief they felt when they woke up next to one another in bed? Maybe he'd have talked about their strong determination to get a divorce and straighten everything out, followed by the looming 'what ifs' that kept knocking. What if they gave it a chance? What if they opened their hearts and it worked out? What if it was meant to be?

Maybe Elvis would have told a white lie at their request, saving their families the heartache of learning that they missed the original wedding, even though Ron and Hermione kind of missed it too.

That would be best wouldn't it? They could hire an Elvis to spin a new love story for their family, so they could keep the real one to themselves—not due to shame, but the simple fact that it's theirs.

Ron can't help but wonder.

Rather than a formal sit-down dinner, the ceremony transitions straight into a party. The delicate set-up of chairs and flowers clears into a dance floor. The doors to the warehouse open to an outdoor deck complete with a buffet and a dessert table, and a crowd forms at the bar.

Tugged away by Ginny, Hermione disappears into the crowd, and Ron becomes absorbed by friends and relatives. He'd rather stick with Hermione, but before he can locate her again, he's trapped in a conversation with long-lost family members. Old cousin Barny, Auntie Muriel and her flavor of the week — a scruffy looking man who introduces himself as Argus, and a neighbor who used to babysit when he was a toddler — he smiles through it all.

"Anyone special in your life, Ron?"

"I noticed the way you were looking at the brunette."

"Is it serious?"

"Should we be marking our calendars for another wedding?"

He deflects the expected questions — the ones that could draw attention away from the happy couple — with suggestive 'maybes' and 'we'll sees' although the truth, or at least a version of the truth, is evident on his face.

Yes, there is someone special. Yes, he was probably gawking at the beautiful brunette. Yes, it's serious enough that they live together.

"You're living together before you're married?" Auntie Muriel chimes in her most dismissive, judgemental tone.

Ron gives her a guilty look, a 'we're already married, you just don't know,' but to her, it's an admission of living together in sin.

"Well, I hope for your sake, she's the one."

"She definitely is," he says, nodding in a way he hopes ends the conversation.

Ron eventually negotiates an escape from small talk and heads to the bar for a slight reprieve. He slides into a seat and accepts a generous glass of champagne from the bartender. One sip reveals just how thirsty he is, and he lets out a satisfied sigh of relief before indulging in the rest of his glass.

"Another?" asks the bartender once he finishes.

"Erm, sure. Thanks."

While the bartender refills his glass, Ron takes a quick scan of the room. He's looking for Hermione, but she's nowhere to be found. His search doesn't last long as a certain someone slides into the barstool next to him and interrupts.

"Thank you for being here," says the dark-haired man beside him. "It means a lot."

"Ugh, not you," groans Ron, but his tone is laden with a touch of sarcasm only his best friend can decipher. "Should I say congratulations?"

"Yes, please," grins Harry. "Even though you've said it a million times."

"Well, you should soak it up because tomorrow, I'm done congratulating you," he says. "So needy."

"Cheers to you too," says Harry, clanking his champagne glass against Ron's.

"I've been meaning to ask you," says Ron, remembering Harry and Ginny's elaborate ceremony. "Why Elvis?"

Harry laughs. "Oh, Ludo? We met him at one of the casinos in Vegas."

"And you just asked him to officiate your wedding?"

"Well, he offered, and we didn't have anyone else," shrugged Harry. "To be honest, we were kind of drunk when we agreed, but Ginny wanted to bring some of Las Vegas into the wedding, so it worked out."

"Well, I liked him. I thought it was brilliant."

"I agree," grinned Harry. "So, will I get to congratulate you anytime soon?"

"Congratulate me for what?"

Harry rolls his eyes, aware that Ron is playing dumb. "Do you think you and Hermione will ever get married?"

"What makes you ask that?" Ron looks over at his best friend, and his expression that's full of excitement. Part of Ron loves that he and Hermione are the only people who know about their marriage. Another part of Ron just wishes he could share it all with his best friend. It doesn't feel right keeping him in the dark.

"You live together and seem pretty happy," continues Harry, oblivious to Ron's internal debate. "I'll admit, at first, I thought you two were moving fast, but you seem well suited for each other."

"After Hermione, you'll be the second person to know," says Ron, grinning at his friend.

"I'll take it!" says Harry. "Can I give you one piece of advice?"

"Sure, mate." Ron can't help but smirk — Harry's been married for barely two hours and is already touting marriage advice. Typical.

"If you know she's the one, don't overthink it. You'll just waste time."

Ron laughs softly. "I don't think that will be an issue for me."

"Good. I'm going to find my wife," says Harry, emphasizing the word like he's trying it on for size. "And you should go dance with your girlfriend. She looks like she could use a hand."

Harry motions across the room to where Hermione and Luna are alone at a cocktail table. There she is. Hermione's stiff body language is a stark contrast to Luna's eccentric gestures, and it appears that Hermione has become an unwilling audience for one of Luna's wild conspiracy theories.

"Happily," mutters Ron as Harry saunters off to find Ginny.

Ron meanders across the room to rescue Hermione from Luna's verbal clutches. Since she doesn't see him approach, he decides to surprise her by sneaking up behind her and looping his arms around her waist.

"Hi, girlfriend," he whispers into her ear.

"Hmmm." She seems to melt into his touch ."Hi, boyfriend."

"Sorry, Luna," says Ron, as he slides a hand down Hermione's arm and interlaces his fingers with hers. "I'm going to steal Hermione away for a dance."

"Of course! Have fun, you two," Luna says before turning around toward the crowd and skipping away, presumably in search of another unsuspecting guest to engage with.

"She's a lot, isn't she?" asks Ron.

"She's not too bad, once you get to know her. She's just talkative, that's all."

Ron tugs Hermione toward the dance floor where a smattering of couples intertwine, swaying to one of the rare slow songs in the D.J.'s repertoire. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he tightens his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"It's a little weird to call you my girlfriend."

"It sounds wrong," she says, her voice muffled by his dress shirt. "I was never your girlfriend. It's probably how people feel when they first start saying 'wife' or 'husband.'"

"I reckon you're right."

Ron reflects on the first time he called Hermione "wifey." It didn't feel weird at all, probably because it was a joke. Eventually, the joke just turned real.

"Hubby suits you better, anyway," says Hermione. She always seems to know what he's thinking, but he doesn't mind one bit.

"I agree, love." Even now, Hermione can still make his cheeks tinge red with a simple statement. "Are you enjoying the wedding?"

He can feel her nodding against his chest. "Yeah," she mumbles. "Although, it was a lot of work. Are you?"

Ron shrugs. "Ours was better, I think."

Hermione laughs. "I'm sure it was. Too bad we can't remember it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron can see Harry and Ginny embracing on the dance floor, surrounded by his grinning family. A spotlight shines on them, and at the sound of clinking glasses, they lock eyes and share a kiss. When they make contact, the bystanders whoop and whistle. "Maybe they should have gotten hitched in Vegas like us. This is a lot of commotion."

"Well, you know Harry and Ginny," says Hermione as she loosens her embrace to glance over at the couple. "They like their parties."

"They do," he says, tugging Hermione back into his arms. "What would you have done if this was your wedding?"

Ron expects Hermione to take some time for her answer, but surprisingly, she has one at the ready. "It would have been smaller. Maybe a live band instead of a D.J. And red velvet cake."

Ron smiles into her hair as she continues.

"I probably wouldn't have had a huge wedding party. Probably just a maid of honor. Intimate rooftop ceremony. I'd write my own vows. I even have photos of my dream dress."

Ron chuckles. "You have it all planned out."

"I never really planned it, I just knew." She's smiling when she pulls away and meets his eye, but her smile fades into a frown. "But seriously, I wouldn't change a thing."

She must have interpreted his pensive look as disappointment. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Let's plan it."

"Plan what?"

"Our rooftop wedding," he says as the color pink creeps up his neck.

"Ron, we're already married." Despite her deadpan tone, there's a twinkle in her eye and a soft smirk hiding behind her lips.

"Then let's get married again."

She narrows her eyes at him, and Ron can almost see the gears turning inside her head. "You don't think that would be a waste of time and money?"

"No. Not at all. Plus, I couldn't stop picturing you walking down the aisle today, and I'd love to see you in your dream dress."

She leans back and stares at him for a few moments, clearly running questions through her mind. When she finally speaks, her eyes are glassy with held-back tears, and a smile lifts her words. "You're serious?"

"Hermione Granger," he states in his most serious tone. "Will you marry me again?"

Their feet stop moving, and she bores her gaze into his. Her answer is swimming in her eyes, but he waits for her to verbalize it. "Of course I will. I'd marry you every day."

Ron barely has time to smile before she's pressing her lips against his. He responds so enthusiastically that it could very well be their first or thousandth kiss, lifting her gently off her feet. They're probably drawing attention to themselves, but Ron doesn't mind. It's like she's the only person in the room.

That seems to happen a lot.

Ron sets her back down and slides his hands down her arms, landing at her unadorned fingers. He rubs a thumb across her left hand, desperately wishing he had brought the ring. He didn't think to bring it to the wedding.

The ring — a modest emerald-cut solitaire in yellow gold, is still safely stashed in his bedside drawer, hidden by a few football magazines. He had a whole plan that didn't include a quiet proposal at someone else's wedding, but sometimes the best things in life are accidents.

"I have a ring, you know."

"You do?" she asks, her eyebrows raised. "You planned this?"

Ron laughs. "Well, sort of. But I wasn't planning on asking you tonight. Didn't want to steal anyone's thunder."

"When were you going to ask?"

He had it all planned out. A surprise candlelight dinner at their flat. A homemade cocktail — his best attempt at Liquid Luck. Slow-dancing in a dimly lit living room, furniture pushed against the wall to make room. Dropping to one knee in the middle of a dance. Strawberries and whipped cream. It would have been perfect.

But this is perfect too.

"I was going to propose six months in. Since that's when you can finally divorce me if you want to—"

"Right. Divorce," she scoffs. "When did you buy the ring?"

Ron averts his gaze when he answers. He hasn't planned on telling her this part. "In Las Vegas."

"That early?" she asks, her tone suspicious.

He nods.

"You knew you wanted to stay with me?"

"Of course, I did. Didn't you know, too?"

She smiles and answers him with another kiss. This time it's slow and loving, taking its time. Their bodies seem to melt together into one.

"That would have been so sweet," she says when they eventually break free.

"We can stick to the original plan if you'd prefer that—"

"No!" Her eyes widen as if she's afraid he'll take it back. "When have we ever followed plans?"

Ron grins. There it is — that spontaneous Hermione that only he gets to see. "And you were worried 'Vegas Hermione' would disappear completely," he says, tucking a hair behind her ear.

"I guess she's here to stay," says Hermione as she nestles her head into the crook of Ron's neck where it fits so perfectly. "I love you so much, Ron."

"I love you more, fiance."

Ron can't help but wince at her new title. 'Fiance' sounds just as odd as 'girlfriend,' and it'll only be true for a small fraction of their lives together — not enough time to get used to it.

"I still like 'wifey' better," she says as though reading his mind.

He does too. "Then I guess we have another wedding to plan."

"I guess we do," she says. "And what about our real wedding? Do you want to tell people?"

"Should we?"

"No," she says before securing her arms around his neck. "That wedding can stay ours."

Ron smiles as his lips meet hers. The desire for everyone to know is still there, but less so. They'll get to celebrate a 'real' wedding together, their guests blissfully ignorant of Ron and Hermione's little secret. It's a perfect plan, really.

Someday they might reveal the truth. They might let it slip in conversation, or accidentally admit it to Harry and Ginny after a few cocktails, or decide to tell their future children.

But until then, their original wedding can just be theirs.

*THE END*

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you buy him an action figure of himself

This work, 当你买了他的手办, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

You’ve been trembling with fear and trepidation for close to ten minutes in your own office at your own company, afraid that the person sitting in your seat would criticise your proposal for lacking a single redeeming feature.

Just as you feel as though you’re about to faint from anxiety, Victor finally sets down the proposal in his hand.

“Not bad.”

A great weight rolls off your shoulders, and you lift your head. “It’s really passable?”

Faced with a sudden visit from the CEO, you were so frightened earlier that your heart was about to stop.

“Mm.”

“That’s amazing. Teacher Victor, I want red wine steak tonight~” You smile coquettishly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He tilts his head and is just about give your cheeks a pinch when his gaze sweeps over a miniature figure on the table.

“What’s this?” He grips the clay figurine’s head, lifting it up to have a look.

“Isn’t it cute? I passed by a small shop and the boss made it based on a photo I had of you.” You hurriedly take the clay figurine from him before he destroys it, placing it back on the table with much care.

"You look at it every day?”

Despite sensing that his tone sounds slightly off, you nod honestly.

VIctor’s face darkens, and he throws the figurine into his bag. His sudden change in temperament makes you afraid to even breathe.

From his wallet, he takes out a photograph - it’s a picture of the both of you.

“I’m confiscating this. Next time, just look at this photo. Take a walk after dinner and buy a photo frame along the way.”

“...” 

Is Teacher Victor jealous of himself?

[ GAVIN ]

During one of your idle online shopping adventures, you come across a service which does customisable figurines. Curious, you scan through the reviews, realising that the photos are all exquisite. After finalising the price with the customer service staff, you send over a picture of Gavin playing basketball.

A month flies past quickly. Intending it to be a surprise, you keep this from Gavin.

When the parcel finally arrives, you wield the fruit knife from the table expectantly.

“Are you cutting fruits?” Gavin immediately stands up and asks, afraid you’d injure yourself.

You shake your head. “No, I'm opening a parcel.”

Still feeling uneasy, he decides to stand next to you, only to be greeted by a figurine which looks exactly like him.

“This is...”

“It’s my handsome Officer Gavin!” 

You hand it to him slowly, as though you’re cradling a treasure. 

He accepts it carefully. “Isn’t this the time we went to play basketball with Eli and Minor in Loveland High?”

As expected of Officer Gavin - his memory is incredible. 

“That’s right! This way, I’ll have a big Gavin, and a small Gavin!” You take the clay figurine, hugging it to yourself.

“Mm.” Gavin nods in agreement. “No matter which Gavin it is, they’re all yours. But... I’d actually prefer to make a mini Gavin with you.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Was this figurine made to look like me?” Lucien studies the miniature figure on the table.

You nod. “Yeah, a chibi Professor Lucien is really cute. It’s no wonder why the students used a chibi version of you to attract guests during the university’s anniversary.

“It is cute. But it isn’t perfect.”

Lucien shuts the acrylic box properly.

You turn the box around, looking at the figurine carefully. Even though it’s a chibi, it is an exact replica of Lucien in terms of appearance, pose and expression - especially the eyes. Even the angle of its slight smile is the same.

“I think it’s pretty perfect though.” You comment, wondering what flaws he noticed.

With a laugh, Lucien holds onto your shoulder, pushing you in front of the mirror, beckoning you to look into it, then at the figurine on the table.

“Do you notice that something is missing?” He hints, eyes crinkling.

The mirror reflects two profiles leaning against each other. On the other hand, the figurine on the table appears lonely. 

“Do you still remember where that figurine shop is?” He holds your hand. “It’d only be perfect with you.”

[ KIRO ]

“Kiro!” You exclaim the moment you step into the house.

“Have you collected the parcel? What did you buy?” 

Ever since you vehemently rejected his offer to accompany you to collect the parcel, Kiro’s dejection was about to burst through the roof. Now that he sees you calling for him, he tosses his earlier unhappiness aside, running over eagerly.

“Didn’t your fan club make a lot of Kiro figurines recently? I bought one~”

Filled with anticipation, you remove the small figurine from the parcel. The moment you see it, you’re held captive by its spirited expression and bright, starry eyes. “This is really adorable!”

Kiro feels as though his position in the household is no longer stable.

“I think it looks average.” Kiro’s comment is accompanied by his menacing ‘claws’ giving the figurine’s face a poke. 

“I think looks very nice.” You swat his ‘claws’ away. “Be careful not to spoil it!”

With extreme caution, you place this newbie on the display shelf, and even pat its head gently. “Get along well with the other figurines, okay?”

Kiro is certain that his position in the household is no longer stable.

“Miss Chips, why are you treating the figurine so well QAQ You’re not only ignoring the real person standing next to you, but you’re being so tender to a figurine. I can sing for you. Can the figurine do that? I can bring you to eat good food. Can the figurine do that? In bed, I can even-”

“Stop!” You clasp a hand over his mouth before he can say something embarrassing. “Fine fine fine, you’re the best, okay?”

You shoot him a look of resignation.

Kiro nods, satisfied. “I also want Miss Chips to acknowledge that I’m the one you cherish most in your heart!”

Tickled, you rub his head. “Whatever you say, three-year-old Kiro~”

[ SHAW ]

“What’s this toy? Why is it so ugly?” Shaw looks distastefully at the object you’ve placed on the table.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Are you blind? Can’t you tell that it’s a figurine of you?”

You straighten the figurine with a serious expression on your face. Chibi Shaw is carrying a bass, his sharp little canines looking adorable beyond belief. It really exudes his aura.

“Oh please, this toy doesn’t have any of my coolness.” 

Ignoring your murderous glare, he picks up the figurine you've painstakingly fixed. Pinching its head and turning it around several times, the distaste on Shaw’s face grows even deeper.

Resisting the urge to whack him with the figurine, you snatch it back, placing it once again in its original position. “If you don’t like it, then suck it up. What matters is that I like it!”

He rubs the area that you’ve hit, his tone somewhat sincere and his expression amiable. “It’s ugly - just throw it away. Save yourself from nightmares.”

“So... you’re saying that you’re ugly?” You give him a direct reminder that the figurine was made based on his appearance, so he’s basically insulting himself.

“I didn’t say that.” Unbothered, he throws the figurine back into the box. “This toy doesn’t resemble me at all. It’s ugly as hell.”

He seals the box shut, then finds a rubber band to tie it several times, ensuring it wouldn’t fall out.

“Next time, just look at me directly if you want to. Why look at these ugly things? The real me will always be by your side.”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[toriwakes]

Choosing You [George Weasley x Reader]

summary: you and fred were always an unlikely pair. it was too good to be true.

content warnings: cheating, suggestive activities, angsty fluff, some swearing. fem!reader (pronouns she/her)

a/n: hello! i thought of this concept in the shower. i’m actually super proud of it. it was kinda inspired by the people saying that when they shift, fred cheats on them if they don’t script otherwise but...yeah. hope u like it and as always, let me know if you have any requests!

they were so different. too different, some said. she was dedicated, intelligent, reserved. he was loud, always moving, outgoing. no one expected the two to be a match. some accused her of putting him under a love potion, but he assured her that he didn’t need a love potion; he was devoted to her. at first she couldn’t believe it when the weasley boy asked her out- how could she? they were friends, sure. but just like everyone else, she found it mind-boggling that he took interest in her. she accepted though, jaws dropping when they made their relationship public. they went to quidditch practice together, went to the kitchens late at night and even used her prefect powers to get him out of trouble.

so you can imagine the utter shock, anger and confusion when she caught him in bed with another girl.

after what felt like decades, quidditch practice finally ended. she was eager to check up on fred; he must be in so much pain since he was sick. she frowned at the thought. she picked up some of fred’s favorite snacks hoping they would make him feel better. (y/n) did small things like that for him. that’s the type of good girlfriend she is. why wasn’t she good enough for him?

she entered the common room quietly, not wanting to startle her sick boy. when she finally reached the steps to the boys dormitory, she heard faint pants. this actually made her reach the door faster. she believed that fred was having some sort of reaction to the medicine and wanted to help. her hand was on the knob now, but she realized something. the pants turned into moans- she recognized it right away. who wouldn’t recognize gryffindor’s head girl’s voice? before she could stop herself she opened the door and saw exactly what she was expecting to see. fred’s frame covering most of angelina’s. he was still in her. when they finally noticed the girl they panicked. fred’s eyes went wide and he threw the covers over the figure under him, left to cover his manhood with his hands. (y/n)’s head was mad. ‘curse them out! embarrass them!’ it screamed. but her heart was kicking, screaming and sobbing so loud that all that came out of her mouth was a quiet, “how could you do this to me?”

fred was red in the face and angelina had the same look of shock on her face. “(y/n)? is that you?” hermione’s sweet voice spoke. (y/n) ignored her. fred leaped forward to shut the door but (y/n) stopped him. she forcefully shoved him back; now her head was talking. “did you enjoy yourself then?” she shouted. “did you? are you content?!” fred was stumbling back- he could see hermiones flabbergasted face over (y/n)’s shoulder. “answer me! how dare you! you’re up here fucking her while i’m down there worried sick about you, you bastard!” they stayed quiet. “should i be seeing this?” hermione peeped. (y/n) never removed her eyes as she spoke, “hermione you stay right there. i want you to hear and see everything so you can tell everyone how pathetic fred weasley is!” he flinched at your shouting. she didn’t even hear the rest of the team walk into the common room. “i don’t think i need to tell anyone.” hermione scoffed. she waved everyone up, and next thing you know, the entirety of gryffindor house witnessed the scene. (y/n) turned around. absolutely out of her mind, she opened her moth. “welcome to the show! if you look closely you’ll see fred weasley, a poor excuse of a man.-“ she moved so she could shift the attention to angelina. “-and angelina johnson.” she dropped her arms to her side and kissed her teeth in disgust. “a disgrace to gryffindor house.” she spat. now completely turning around so her back was to the pair, she spoke to the small crowd that formed. “take a picture, i hope you all remember this moment. i know i will.” with that, everyone made a space so she could leave, kicking the sweets she brought in that had fallen on the way out. “freddie...” george sighed.

george was mentally cursing out his idiot of a brother. did he forget the bet? the promise they made? about 3 months ago fred noticed (y/n) for the first time. with a cocky tone he whispered to his twin, “i want her.” george felt like punching his brother. he wanted (y/n). and he let it be known. “dude, i want her.” fred shrugged and proposed a bet; whoever swept her off her feet first would get the girl first. fred ultimately won, but george warned him. “you treat her right, okay?” fred promised george that he would. he broke that promise. the twins never break each other’s promises.

no one knows where she went that night. some say she went to hagrid’s hut and she cried like a baby into his bushy beard. others say she went to mcgonagall and the professor gave her outstanding advice. they were good guesses, but wrong. only george weasley knew where she went. he followed her with caution- he was sure the last thing he wanted to see was a replica of what once was her boyfriend. she went to the greenhouses, which made sense. she loved herbology. he only revealed himself when she started to cry. “(y/n).” her eyes were shut from blinking away the tears but she managed to draw her wand and point it at him. “what do you want, fred?” when she opened her eyes, she. realized that wasn’t fred. she was one of the few people who could tell them apart, and she didn’t see fred. she saw george. tucking away her wand, she sighed. “oh. hello george.” she slumped against a nearby column. “hey.” she was gazing into the sky. “you’re not mad i’m here?” he finally asked. “no. why would i be?” she knew exactly why. she just wanted to hear him say it. “well, you know..fred.” she only laughed. “about that..” he trailed. “you know what i realized about him? he’s not a real boyfriend. he only gets girlfriends so he can cheat on them, can you believe that? he grabs girls hearts, and then he just breaks them. and for what, the thrill of it? it’s sad.” she hissed. george shut his mouth. he decided to not defend fred this time. it was his battle and his only. “if it’s makes you feel better, i didn’t know.” “i know you didn’t. you would’ve told me. wouldn’t you, george?” she looked at him now. “of course.” the gingers head was full. he contemplated telling her about the bet. “she deserves to know.” “yeah, i did.” she scoffed. george only just realizing he said the sentence out loud, cleared his throat. “i doubt it’s worth anything, but fred and i had a bet.” she whipped her head to look at him. “a bet?” he slowly nodded. “we both had a crush on you. we said whoever won your heart first, had you.” “you idiots had a bet on my feelings?!” she said, rightfully angry. george looked down shamefully. “i know, it was stupid. look, i know your heart is broken right now but i have to ask...when it’s healed, so you think we could..” (y/n) chuckled. her eyes fixated on the moon, she spoke, “my heart isn’t broken.” “it’s not?” george now spoke with a smirk. “nope.” she popped the ‘p’ with a smile. “does that mean i’ll have a chance to sweep you off your feet?” she shook her head. “yeah.” “cool.” they stood around in silence for a moment. then, (y/n) got an idea. “do you want to go to the lake?” george scrunched his eyebrows. “it’s past hours.” (y/n) looked at him curiously. “since when do you care if it’s past hours?” “touché.”

two weeks was all it took. she was as good as new. she owed george some credit for her quick recovery. they spent endless amounts of time together. “do you wanna do this?” george inquired. he meant go public- show off in front of the entire great hall that you were in fact his now. “you don’t think they’ll think poorly of us?” (y/n) picked up george’s hand and put it in hers. “anyone who thinks poorly of us is supporting angelina and fred’s choices. do you need that type of person in your life?” she asked. george simply smiled and pecked her on the lips. “keep away from her!” they were torn apart by hermione, a look of pure disturbance on her face. “oh! goodness, forgive me. i thought you were fred.” “hermione?” (y/n) said. hermione cocked her head as if to say ‘yes?’ “what would you say if george and i were dating?” hermione’s breath hitched, sounding like a gasp. in a low whisper, she asked, “are you?” (y/n) looked at george. george was already looking at her with a grin. “yeah.” hermione was already smiling, but she smiled brighter and gave the couple a slow clap. “brilliant!”

all eyes were on them. everyone in the great hall had their jaws on the floor as george walked in with (y/n) on his arm, a cocky smirk on his face. they even got looks of respects from slytherins. angelina reacted first, fred right after her. “you’re a slut.” angelia spat. ‘that’s funny’ (y/n) thought. ‘i don’t remember transfiguring myself into a mirror’. gasps erupted from the hall. george lunged forward but she held him back. “you...want to talk about being a slut?” (y/n)’s cold voice was unsettling. without reason angelina flicked her wand, basically punching the girl in the face with a jinx. (y/n) touched her nostril- blood. “george, honey, do me a favor. have a seat.” george sat down at her words. blood on her robes now, (y/n) faced angelina. the girl raised her wand but toria was quicker, muttering a “flipendo!” and knocking angelina back several feet.

of course that was when snape walked in.

he crossed his arms and sucked his teeth. it reminded her of when she caught fred. “i’d love to hear your explanation for this one, (y/l/n).” he had a shit-eating smirk on his face. “and i’d love to give you one, professor. as incriminating as this scene looks- none of it was my fault. angelina verbally attacked me first, calling me rude words that i shouldn’t repeat. then physically, giving me-“ she wiped her bloody nose with her thumb. “-this gem.” snape’s black eyes switched between the two girls. “and everyone here can confirm that.” (y/n) added. several ‘yeah, she’s right’s came from the students. “alright then. 20 points from gryffindor. ms johnson, come with me. (y/l/n), get yourself to the infirmary and stop bleeding everywhere.” snape left with angelina who seemed to have a bruise on her arm. “so that’s it then?” fred spoke now, george putting himself in front of you. “i guess it is.” her boyfriend said. “you know what you’re doing is wrong, right? you can’t date my exes-“ she was going to let george handle it, but now she had to but in. “you don’t have any say in what he can and can’t do! not after what you did. he’s lost his respect for you.” george grabbed his girlfriends hand in attempt to calm her down. “you’ve love your respect for me?” fred sounded sad. george didn’t care. “earn it back once you’ve decided to stop being an ass.”

george was walking her to the hospital wing now. “this won’t get in the way in your relationship with him, will it?” george sighed. “you’re so good, you know that? my brother cheated on you and you’re worried about if him and i will be okay.” you smiled. “i should’ve chose you.” she whispered. “what was that?” george hummed. she spun in her feet and cupped his face, pulling him down so their lips could meet. “im choosing you.”

[annebrontesrequiem]

CLAMP Timeline BS: How xxxHolic and CCS are Connected

Major spoilers for xxxHolic, TRC, and minor-ish spoilers for Cardcaptor Sakura and Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Also it long

Backstory

Cardcaptor Sakura run: 1996-2000

xxxHolic run: 2003-2011

Clear Card run: 2016-present

What I have read: The entirety of xxxHolic

What I have watched: The entirety of Cardcaptor Sakura, the entirety of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card, xxxHolic season 1

 Crackpot Theory Time

So I got the idea for this after seeing some post somewhere (I’ll try to look for the post later) something along the lines of “maybe Sakura in Clear Card will be so powerful she’ll be able to influence the TRC universe/help the members of the CLAMP universe.” Then I started thinking about how, though there have been many posts on the TRC/xxxHolic timeline, I haven’t seen an xxxHolic/CCS timeline. I’m sure it exists somewhere, but since I’ve got my own theories I’m not writing one myself.

This is less of a timeline and more of a “how are they connected”, basically I’m going to be going back through the anime and the manga and saying whether I think CCS and xxxHolic take place in the same universe, and whether or not they’re taking place at the same time.

Let’s start with the most stuff (and apologies the manga scans are ones I made myself so if they’re kinda wonky that’s why)

Also one day I’ll update this when I actually read TRC (lol)s.

Also some of these are a bit crazy.

 Plot Points

Since xxxHolic came second it’s unsurprising that the majority of the things I’m going to be discussing comes from this series. So I’m going to start by framing this around xxxHolic, dipping inThis is going to be a bit all over the place but since I’m focusing on a specific chapter it shouldn’t be too confusing.

1.      In Chapter 2 of xxxHolic we see the most references to Cardcaptor Sakura. Namely Watanuki and Yuuko have an argument about the plastic replica of the Clow Key that Yuuko owns.

2.      Now the version that Yuuko has is the first iteration of the key. That means that when Yuuko acquired it (whenever she did) it was most likely during the first part of Cardcaptor Sakura (although yes I understand in meta it’s because it’s the most iconic iteration). Then again the key has been around for a long time, as it’s the original iteration. It’s possible that Yuuko got a copy of it from Clow, or some point before Sakura got hold of it. Although that’d most likely have to be before Kero fell asleep for 30 years, and before the cards got into the Kinomoto house.

3.      Another thing to note is that Yuuko only has a prop version. Although you might use this to say CCS is a show in this version, it’s pretty obvious that this is just for a gag. Considering the fact Watanuki doesn’t recognize it, there’s little chance that CCS is a beloved kid’s show in the xxxHolic universe.

4.      This is further proven by Yuuko’s words: “…The one who owns the original now is the creep’s [Clow’s] blood relation, a cute young girl.” This is probably the best indicator that CCS is taking place at the same time of xxxHolic. Although it’s possible that CCS takes place in an alternate world/universe, that also seems unlikely. Although Yuuko never seems tied to the shop in the way Watanuki is in the latter half, there’s also (in xxxHolic) no proof that she’s jumping around worlds. Besides, it seems unlikely she’d bring it up to Watanuki in the present-tense if that were the case. Thus we can pretty safely say that Sakura is both alive and still a little kid in the xxxHolic world.

5.      Now the most confusing part in regards to the CCS/xxxHolic timeline is Watanuki’s existence himself. In Chapter 11 Watanuki and Yuuko go to see a fortune teller. During said interaction the fortune teller explicitly states: “Your parents have safely passed into the afterlife” after noting that they died in an accident. Now this could cause some issues, as we know not only that Watanuki’s parents are Sakura and Syaoran (from what I know it’s specifically their clone versions but again I haven’t read TRC so I could be wrong). This could point to two things, either A. This is just a lie or something that CLAMP retconned later, or B. Sakura and Syaoran are dead. Assuming that this isn’t just a retcon or a sort of lie (since Sakura and Syaoran clone’s weren’t actually dead at this point, I’m pretty sure in TRC they don’t even know about Tsubasa Li yet) we could explain this via Eriol. Eriol is confirmed to be the reincarnation of Clow Reed. As of such if we assume that there was another Sakura and Syaoran running around in this world (plz god no), then the accident which caused their death doesn’t actually mean that CCS happened way earlier. It just means that they might’ve reincarnated.

Random Exposition

I’m just going to be talking about technology and geography here

1.      Firstly I had to go back and check and unfortunately the name of Watanuki’s school doesn’t match with the name of Sakura’s school (or rather her brother’s old school). Cross Private School has nothing to do with Tomoeda. Although that could actually further point to them existing in the same timeline, since if they lived in the same place it’d be weird if they never ran into one another.

2.      Tomoeda is said to be close to Tokyo. In fact in the second season we see Sakura and the gang taking the train to Tokyo. Watanuki obviously lives in a city, or a very dense suburb, and in Chapter 5 he mentions that Ginza would take hours to walk to. Having lived in a very dense city myself once (Paris I miss you baby) I know that walking from one side of the other could theoretically take hours. Though I’m not sure how large Tokyo is and I have no real sense of distance, I’d guess that Watanuki lives either in some made up part of Tokyo, or in the suburbs directly connected to the city. As famous landmarks are never mentioned, it could be either or. He could even be from a neighboring city theoretically, although then it’d prolly take much longer to walk to Ginza.

3.      Lastly I want to talk about technology. In Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card we can clearly see that this is meant to take place in modern times, as Sakura has upgraded to an iphone, in keeping with the time. This definitely disproves CCS coming before xxxHolic, as nothing in xxxHolic suggests it takes place in the future. I also think that there’s no way xxxHolic comes before CCS for any real period of time, after all in Volume 1 there are many chapters dedicated to the woman who cannot stop using the internet. This too points to me that xxxHolic and CCS are running in conjunction to one another, or are at least only a few years off.

Conclusion

So this is all very crackpot and weird, but I do think it’s interesting to ponder. As that forum post said Clear Card definitely seems to be upping the scale of Cardcaptor Sakura, the magic is greater, the stakes seem higher, and characters such as Yuna D. Kaito point towards a storyline that seems more tonally in tandem with the greater CLAMP extended universe, as really ratcheted up by xxxHolic and TRC.

You could make the argument that CCS and xxxHolic are from different universes, though considering what I’ve written and read I don’t think you can argue that they’re utterly disconnected. Overall I’m still missing a huge piece of the puzzle, that being TRC as well as the rest of the Clear Card chapters. One day I’ll prolly remake this post, but until then I hope you enjoyed!

[cheese-ception]

Icy Shell

Darlings,  kindly forgive the initial angst - I promise the fluff that follows in the second half makes up for it tenfold.

Beta-tested on my dear @masamune-archive​ Tagging @tsubaki3192​ and @spanish-aguacate​, because I can and because it’s Levi time, you two, woo! Please, enjoy ♡ pairing: Leviathan (Obey Me!) x reader warnings: angst (to fluff) word count: 2004

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and it wasn't fair. Leviathan's trembling fingers ran through his hair, still damp from the the shower he took earlier, purple strands glistening with stray droplets of water. Hours have passed him by as he struggled to pull himself together, pacing through his room anxiously, an agonized scowl twisting his features.

His eyes were glossed over, dark circles underneath them matching the shadows in his mind. He cursed profusely, tripping over one of the countless boxes littering the floor. Tears streamed down his cheeks, their wet trails almost painful in their descent, stinging his skin with merciless salt. He did not even bother to wipe them away, the last fragments of his focus set on a completely different kind of torment.

He picked up one of the boxes, tracing its edges with his chilled fingers, only to put it away again, carefully but without any real care at the same time.

The world was utterly joyless, a mere replica of what it used to be before the two of them met.

Before she filled his heart with all these strange feelings, causing him to become apathetic to the very things that used to keep him going.

Now none of them really mattered, regardless of how hard he tried.

Each time he ordered new merch, he lost interest before it even arrived.

Whatever game he played failed to entertain him.

Any show would have been better if she was there to watch it with him, leaving him feeling even more lonely and miserable.

He used to look forward to escaping social gatherings, to being alone in his room, able to enjoy the peace and quiet, far from the noise and the judgemental stares of all the normies he was forced to keep in touch with.

But not anymore.

Nothing made sense and it was all her fault.

Or was it, really? How many times had she asked to hang out together? How many times had she smiled at him, eyes sparkling with excitement, lips shiny with her cherry chapstick, upturned in the most endearing of smiles?

A smile that made him feel like his heart would cease beating if he didn't stop looking, so dazzling and brilliant that it made my shy away almost instantly.

He struggled hard not to give that feeling a name, afraid that if he did, the spell would break and she would finally realise he didn't deserve any of it, that she was better off sharing it with someone else, someone more worthy. He slid to the floor, hugging his knees tight to his chest, the war within him so intense that it easily put the whole celestial debacle to shame. Or at least that's certainly how it felt while his nails pierced his skin, setting themselves deep into the flesh of his forearms, crimson staining his white sleeves.

Days turned into weeks and he refused to leave his room, opening the door only when Asmodeus brought him food.

Sometimes not even then, leaving it grow cold at the doorstep, letting hunger gnaw at his insides in a desperate attempt to distract him from the void food couldn't fill.

It was better this way.

If he stayed away long enough, these feelings would eventually disappear. Surely he wouldn't suffer forever and she probably didn't even notice.

He was a nobody after all.

Nobody to be missed. He curled into himself in his tub, cradling a pillow to his chest and closed his eyes, ready to let the world disappear behind his weary eyelids and drift away to another restless sleep.

But even that wasn't meant to be as a soft knock sounded against the door, disturbing his attempt at disconnecting from reality.

“Go away, Asmo, I am not hungry!” he snarled, tossing around in a fruitless attempt at getting comfortable again.

He was met with silence, interrupted only by the soft click of the lock as the door opened slowly. Light spilling inside in harsh rays, Leviathan groaned, diving underneath the blanket where he sat still, pulling it over his head like a make-shift hoodie.

The floor creaked and he blinked fast, desperately trying to adjust his sight to the unwelcome luminosity but then the door closed again, shrouding everything in blissful darkness.

He sighed, relief spreading through him until he realised that his visitor didn't actually leave. Either that, or his nightmares came true and he was finally going crazy.

After all, he couldn't very well distinguish dreams from reality at this point and maybe he was just dreaming.

Why else would she be in there after all? “Levi?” a voice rang and his throat tightened, emotions flooding into him, threatening to suffocate him on the very spot.

He peered from underneath his blanket, trying to establish if it was really happening, not trusting his own voice enough to reply just yet.

“Are you okay?” Another sentence cut through the air, straight into his heart as he finally realised she was really there.

Her tone was filled with worry and he forced out a quiet hum, unsure just how to verbalize a proper response. “You have been away for a while, so I came here to check on you. I hope you do not mind too much. I know you probably did not want to see me, but I had to make sure you were alright,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, trailing off into an awkward silence. He didn't know what to say. There was so much he wished he had the courage to tell her but words failed to form and he opened his mouth to speak several times, only to close it again right after.

He felt something warm touch his arm and he shivered, torn between flinching away and remaining as he was, letting the warmth seep into his gelid body, devoid of any of his own heat within. It was like being kissed by the sun after a long winter and he decided to stay still, letting some of the frost that settled on him dissolve, even if only for a moment.

Daring to look up, he searched her face, pale in the dim light of Henry's fish tank, wearing an expression so sincere it made his grip on the blanket tighten, moved by the intensity of the moment as the realisation hit him.

She really cared. For him, out of all the beings in the three realms combined.

She chose to seek him when he wanted to make it easy on her.

When he wanted to make her life better by removing himself from it.

“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but would it be okay if I hugged you?” she inquired, leaving him stunned for a few moments before he nodded, apprehension pulling at the last string that held him together. He thought he would fall apart right there in front of her, the frantic beating of his heart causing his blood to race, further melting his icy shell as he leaned forward tentatively.

For a fleeting moment he saw her smile, the very smile that shattered his heart and now pieced it back together, the sight of it making it soar like a phoenix born anew.

He held his breath, terrified that he misheard or that she was only teasing, ever so difficult to be convinced that anything pleasant could actually ever take place with him as a part of the equation. Doubt tugged at his mind, dismay threatening to settle in while he steeled himself, arms unfolded and raised in front of him somewhat awkwardly, waiting for her next move.

Suddenly her slender frame collided with his and it was as if he ascended back to heaven. Her scent enveloped him in its fruity sweetness, her chest pressed against his, delicate arms winding around him, patting his back affectionately.

It was entirely too much, yet somehow not enough and he choked back a whimper, sinking his teeth into his lower lip to silence himself instead.

Levi whined at the loss of the sensation when she eventually drew away, much too soon for his liking, even though he wouldn't openly admit it.

She took both of his hands in hers, giving them a little squeeze and he realised they were no longer cold at all. He closed his eyes, happiness spreading through him like a wildfire, the sparks of his love burning so bright and vivid that he nearly couldn't take it.

“I really missed you,” she chimed, loosening her grip on his hands, giving him space to retreat if he chose to do so.

“I am not quite sure what happened, but suddenly you were gone and it was like a part of me was missing too. Sorry if it sounds weird, but it's just not the same without you around, you know?”

“You really mean that?” he rasped, voice strained and hoarse, a mix of hope and insecurity filling it with equal share.

“Of course, why would I say it if I didn't mean it, silly?” she retorted, flashing him yet another smile and his last icy wall melted away.

Pulling her back to him, he let go of the previous hesitation, eager to feel more of what he spend so long denying himself, flustered and overstimulated but more content than he has ever been.

His trust was not easy to earn, but he decided to believe her and silence the nagging voices in his head for once. For her. And perhaps for himself too.

Her fingers combed through his hair, untangling the unruly tresses while her nails drew intricate patterns over his scalp, soothing yet enticing at the same time. He let out a sigh, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck and she pulled him even closer, until he could feel her heartbeat mirroring his own in their silent race without a winner, invigorating beyond description. He felt more alive than ever before, her name dying on his lips while he carefully stroked her back in turn. He wished he could take back all the time he had wasted, thinking himself a fool for avoiding her when it was so strikingly obvious that what he really craved was the exact opposite of that.

Every second spent with her was sacred and he realised it now.

He didn't have to hide. Not anymore.

She brushed his fringe away, kissing his exposed forehead, gentle fingers attempting to tuck the silky strands away, failing tremendously. His hair cascaded back into its place, stubborn, just like himself. Levi chuckled and she kissed him again, this time on top of the messy purple layers, rewarded by a soft gasp.

“Do you still remember when you once asked me what my greatest fear was and I wasn't sure what to reply?” she inquired, snapping him out of the momentary daze.

He nodded, patiently waiting for her to continue.

Her hand slid to his cheek, gently stroking his flustered face as she took a deep breath before carrying on.

“I did not yet know then, but what really scares me is the thought of living in a world untouched by your presence, Levi. Please don't disappear on me like that again.” He met her gaze, reluctant and skittish at first, but soon grinning so hard the tips of his usually hidden fangs were on full display. He was grateful, for her but also for the fact that he somehow managed to retain his human form. He was certain that if his tail had manifested, there would be nothing he could do to prevent it from wagging. His cheeks burned even brighter than before, eyes flickering with newly found zeal. He continued smiling, extending a pinky to her with poorly concealed enthusiasm, focusing hard on pushing back the scales that begged to sprout across the sides of his hand while he held it out in her direction. “I won’t, I promise!” ________ Masterlist

[ladyvader23]

The School Play

For @slx99, who inspired me to write this little Dad Vader piece! I also have no idea if walrus’ exist in the Star Wars universe, but THEY DO NOW! 

I also take requests!

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

Vader stared in horror at the announcement slip his children had brought home from preschool. 

Apparently, the children would be putting on a play--or, rather, a presentation, if the description was anything to go by. The school had the children research a topic, and the children would be putting on a dramatic retelling of what they’d learned. It actually sounded terribly boring, but he’d read in that parenting book the children’s pediatrician had given him that supporting their interests, including school activities, helped foster confidence in children. An important quality in the two most important children in the galaxy, even if his presence would terrify everyone else in the room. 

The problem wasn’t the boring play. It was what his son was signed up to be. 

A walrus. 

A walrus. 

Leia had a stormtrooper, which was normal enough. But Luke had a walrus? How in the galaxy had he even had the misfortune of getting such an unfortunate aquatic creature?! 

He looked up at Miss Laena, who’d handed him the announcement slip in the first place. “My son will not play a walrus in front of a crowd of people!” 

The school the children went to was full of senator’s children, as well as other important Imperial figures, such as Grand Moffs, generals, and the like. Vader doubted most of those important figures would actually be at the play; most likely, their partners or nannies would go. But it did not matter. Word would spread fast that the son of Darth Vader had played a walrus. 

“Luke is very excited about the play, my lord.” Miss Laena said carefully. “It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks, now. I even helped him make the costume.” 

His stomach dropped. “There’s a costume?” 

It just got worse and worse. 

“Yes, my lord. I might be able to pull together another one in time, but it will break his heart.” 

Vader gritted his teeth. If this was any other assignment, he’d tell the boy to deal with whatever he chose for him, but he also didn’t need him crying on stage in front of everyone because he was unhappy. 

He would need to convince him. 

“Summon my son. I will speak with him.” 

Miss Laena hurried to do so, and soon the tiny form of his son came running into his office, immediately climbing (uninvited) into his lap. Vader had no change to stop him before his little arms wrapped around his neck with a hug. 

Despite the dire situation, he couldn’t help but melt a little under the embrace. 

“Hi daddy!” Luke said, pulling away after a moment, settling in comfortably on his leg. “Am I in trouble?” 

Perhaps that was the reason for the immediate hug. He would need to discourage such behavior in the future. 

“No, my son.” He reached up and ruffled his hair. “I just wanted to know why you were assigned to be a walrus in this play.” 

Luke brightened. “Oh! I’m going to be a walrus, daddy!” 

“Yes, but why?” Perhaps he hadn’t understood the phrasing of his first question. He struggled to speak on a level the twins would understand, at times. 

“Because I like them.” 

Vader winced. That would make it harder to convince him to change topics. 

“But why?” 

Luke shrugged. “They look funny.” 

And that was precisely why he didn’t want him to play a walrus in the first place. “Why don’t I help you choose something diff--” he cut off as Luke’s expression immediately began to fall, his eyes watering. 

“No, daddy, I wanna be a walrus!” 

Damn. 

Already, just from his presence alone, Vader could tell it would be far more of a fight to force him to choose something else than to just do the walrus. 

“...I will need to have a word with the school. But fine.” 

Immediately the tears were gone, and Luke threw his arms around him again before climbing off and running to find his sister. Vader watched after him, wondering how his children had so thoroughly wrapped him around their fingers, before he pulled up his datapad to send a message to the school principal to order that no footage be allowed at the play. 

If Luke insisted, he could at least make sure the incident was nothing more than a strange, unconfirmed rumor. 

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

The night of the play, he’d debated on pretending his schedule was too full to attend. That way, perhaps no one would notice that the son of Darth Vader was dressed as a walrus. It wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of things to do instead anyway, but every time he thought about not showing up, the imagined disappointment in his children’s faces when they returned home was enough to guilt him into keeping the time reserved for the play. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t show up at the last possible second before they closed the doors for the performance. 

Naturally, the moment he walked in, a hush fell over the crowd of nannies and parents. He made a face when he recognized a few important officials there who were also apparently trying to be good parents despite their schedules. Normally he could respect that, but today of all days, he wished they’d remained at work. 

The principal, a short, portly man, came rushing over not long after he’d found a corner to stand in. “I have issued a strict no recording policy as you wished, Lord Vader.” 

“Good.” Vader crossed his arms, looking over his head to the curtained stage. “Because if there is any recording of my children distributed, I will personally pay you a visit.” 

The man paled, gulped, and nodded. “Understood, my lord.” Then he turned and rushed off. 

Moments later, the lights dimmed, and an announcement was made over a microphone to remind everyone of the very fact that no recording was allowed. He half expected them to use him as an excuse, but they mentioned nothing of the rule being a direct order from him. 

Hm. He might have mentioned it just to make sure, but if he had to dispose of the principal, he would not lose sleep over it. His children barely knew the man and wouldn’t notice if he disappeared. Perhaps he’d do it anyway just for the fact that someone in his staff showed the boy a picture of the infernal animal in the first place. 

Once the announcement was made, the “play” began. Sure enough, it was less of a play and more of various small children of different species in costumes reciting facts about whatever they’d researched for the parents. This was followed up by polite clapping, which he did not participate in. They were not his children, after all. He did not care, and he thought most of them were terribly boring anyway. 

He was also certain that none of these children had actually done their own research. What a complete waste of time and resources. 

But then came Leia. Somehow, Miss Laena had managed to help her construct an almost perfect replica of a stormtrooper armor set, fit perfectly to her petite size. The only thing that he could tell was real was the helmet, which she carried in her arms as more of a prop than anything else. 

When she walked onto the stage...as he suspected she would, she immediately acted as though the entire room was there for her. She squared her shoulders, looking over the audience with as high and mighty of a look that an almost five year old could muster. 

“Stormtroopers are soldiers who help protect the Empire.” She spoke clearly into the microphone. It was...well, as natural as a four year old could get, and a pang went through his chest at the thought of her suddenly looking very much like a mini version of her mother. “They serve over the whole Empire. They can be foot soldiers, or fly TIE fighters, like my daddy does.” 

He wondered if that was something she was supposed to say, or if she said it just because she was proud of what he did for a living. Not that she knew the full extent of that, but...he offered a rare, unseen smile nonetheless. 

“This is a real stormtrooper helmet. My friend let me use it tonight.” Friend? What friend? “Stormtroopers are not like clone troopers. They’re normal people like you and me.” 

He refrained from snorting at that. In his opinion, Clone Troops were far superior, but the Emperor did not seem to care for that opinion. 

“There’s also lots of types of stormtroopers. You can tell what they are because of their uniform. In conclusion, stormtroopers are pretty cool and I like them. They keep us safe, and are friends to all.” 

That...didn’t really make sense. But she was four, and again, probably had her lines written by someone else. Still, when she finished and did a little curtsy, he clapped proudly for the first time the entire show, then watched as she practically skipped off stage. 

Then...it was Luke’s turn. 

It was an experience to have one child give a basic but Imperial pride-supporting speech, then directly afterwards have another child walk out wearing a walrus costume to talk about an animal he’d never even personally seen before. He was sure that anyone who knew Luke was his son probably had a lot of questions he’d never answer right about now. 

But there Luke was, walking out wearing a well made, but monstrosity of a costume. He wore a dark gray, long-sleeved tunic that reached his knees, except that the sleeves ended well past where he knew Luke’s hands to be, and the end was in the shape of walrus flippers. A tail flopped around with each step Luke took, and his head was almost completely engulfed by a walrus-face hood. The face opening was framed by two giant tusks, what he supposed were whiskers, and at the top of the hood, giant eyes that Vader could swear were staring into his soul. 

And underneath, Luke had obviously painted his face. Probably the same color as the tunic. 

Half of Vader wanted to have the ground open up and swallow him whole. The other half was admittedly impressed with the lengths his son had put his nanny up to in making this costume. He was also dead certain that if Luke looked back on this costume as an adult, he’d be embarrassed beyond all reason. 

“Walruses are water animals who live on water worlds like Mon Cala.” Luke began, just as confidently as Leia. It was also obvious he was very proud of the whole thing; he was bouncing a bit in excitement, causing the tail to flop around constantly. Nearby, Vader heard a few parents coo adoringly at the display. 

He wondered if it would be noticeable if he used the Force to hold his son in place. 

“They can dive deep in the water, but they like to stay near land. They are really, really fat. Also, both the girls and the boy walruses have tusks, like this!” He reached up and tugged on the tusks, earning chuckles from the crowd. 

Well. Both of his children definitely liked to use visual aids. It was interesting to know, at least. 

“They also live for a super long time. Forty years!” Luke lifted his flipper-hands up in excitement. “They also can live in the cold because they’re fat. They like to eat fish. And they make these really funny noises, like--” then Luke proceeded to demonstrate, and more laughter erupted around the room. 

As well as Luke was doing, Vader couldn’t help but curse whoever had even shown the cursed animal to his son. He would definitely be finding a replacement for the principal after he was through with him. 

What had he done to encourage such a fascination with the animal? He was from the desert, so this had to be something from his mother’s side of the family, he was sure of it. 

But Luke seemed pleased by the audience’s reaction. He himself would have to ensure this incident never left this room, but at least his son was happy. 

“So yeah, I like walruses. They’re funny looking, and that’s why I chose to tell you about them.” Then, with that said, Luke made a bow, and the audience erupted in far more clapping than had been heard the entire night. Luke straightened, grinned, then ran off stage, his tail and flippers flapping wildly behind him. 

Well. It was certainly the most interesting part of the night, he thought as he clapped for his son. And despite being a walrus, his son was perfect. Just...had some odd interests that he sincerely hoped he grew out of. 

When the show ended, Vader waited uncomfortably by the doors for his children. Plenty of parents and their costumed kids walked by, all giving him a wide berth. He ignored them all, scanning the crowd for his children. He could sense them coming, but for whatever reason, they kept stopping. 

Finally, he saw the small figures of Luke and Leia pushing their way through their crowd, beaming smiles on their faces when they saw him. 

“Daddy!” Leia crowed, and he quickly reached out to place his hands on their shoulders before they could try to hug him. He had grown used to their hugs in private, but they were still learning that it was not permitted in public. “Did you like my play?” 

“You did well.” He confirmed, patting her head, which caused her to make a face and pull away. 

“Don’t mess up my hair.” She muttered. 

Luke had pulled the hood down and his painted face looked up at him. “What about mine, daddy? Lots of people told me they liked it.” He paused, frowning. “Did you?” 

Vader paused, deciding how to phrase it. He did not like that he was parading around in a ridiculous walrus costume, but the whole point of him coming to this ridiculous excuse for a play was to support his children and build their confidence. He could not ruin it by telling his son that he hated the animal he was portraying. “You played your performance well, my son. I am proud of you both.” 

Yes. That seemed safe. And to his satisfaction, the twins beamed up at him. But the moment was ruined when Luke asked, “Can we go to Mon Cala to see the walruses?” 

“Yeah! Let’s go, daddy!” Leia added. 

He paused for a few breaths of the respirator. “Mon Cala...is not safe for humans.” 

Luke frowned. “But my friend said he went, and--” 

“Why don’t I take you to a zoo, instead?” Then maybe Luke would see a different, less embarrassing animal to portray next time. Or maybe he’d lose interest in animals completely. 

Luke considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay daddy.” He paused. “Can I be a walrus for Trick Or Treat?” 

Again, he paused, trying to come up with an answer that would not hurt his son’s feelings. “Why don’t you wait until after we go to the zoo?” 

Luke also seemed to accept this answer, and Vader took his children's hands in his own, and led them from the theater. 

Vader made sure to give pointed glares at anyone who dared look their way.

[smoochkooks]

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst 

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed. 

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

 May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

 Park Jimin

 Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

[divine-bangtan]

Solidarity • IV (m)

BTS x reader, reincarnation!au, supernatural!au, angels and demons!au, slow burn, smut, angst, violence.

Summary: A few weeks away from your 22nd birthday, there are a number of things one would expect to have on their mind. Partying? Oh yes. Drinking? Most definitely. Being told by seven strange men you are the reincarnation of a powerful goddess and the key to winning a demon war? Uh…come again?

Pairing: OT7 x reader, Goddess reader x demon Prince Taehyung, goddess reader x vampire Prince Namjoon, goddess reader x warlock Yoongi, goddess reader x incubus Seokjin, goddess reader x angel Hoseok, goddess reader x shapeshifter Jimin, goddess reader x werewolf Jungkook.

Warnings: angst, some violence, hallucinations, oral (f. receiving).

Word count: 6.4k

Masterlist

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You could feel multiple pairs of eyes burning into your profile across the table, thinking you were oblivious to the intense scrutiny, when in fact you didn’t have the courage to meet the eyes of any of them. Nobody seemed to be making any conversation either, only the sound of metal cutlery scraping harshly on porcelain occasionally making you flinch in discomfort. Instead, you remained unnaturally interested in the assortment of lavish foods on your plate. Where would they even get these ingredients from? Were those fish eggs? Topped with some strange purple garnish-

 “Does your arm hurt?” A voice suddenly whines into your ear. Surprised, you glimpse left to Jungkook beside you, now looking sheepish at how he had roughly pinned you to the ground earlier. 

“Oh…” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and rolling your shoulder to appease his worries. “Not really, I’m sure you were just doing your job. Maybe a little too well…”

 “Our guard dog got a little overexcited. He should really apologise about that.” Yoongi said from your other side, causing you to jerk your head around.

 “You know what it’s been like lately, hyung!” He whined back in a harsh whisper, but Yoongi was too preoccupied with his nose buried in a novel to pay attention. His side profile was quite lovely, you thought to yourself. The little details such as the way his silver earrings gently swayed every time he shifted his head slightly or the way his soft locks of black hair framed his face. When your gaze wandered up to the cat like slant of his eyelids he turned to look at you. Caught out, you startled and opened your mouth to apologise for staring.

Instead you gasped when a pea hit him square in the forehead, and he froze momentarily before he slammed his book down onto the table, causing everyone to jump a little. “Don’t be a brat,” he hissed at Jimin across the table. 

 “Okay, I will now that you’re paying attention to me again, hyung,” he said, plump lips that were once pouting stretching into a smile. It made your heart palpitate how stunning he looked as he grinned, with his blonde hair and red velvet jacket practically radiating confidence. He probably strutted instead of walked too. God, why were they all so beautiful.

 Yoongi scoffed loudly, before promptly returning his attention back to the book he had been trying to read. Jimin whined, draping himself back against his chair as if he were dying. “Don’t even think about throwing anything else at me, I’ll turn you into a cat again. This time you won’t be able to change back unless I say so,” Yoongi warned, a dangerous glint to his eye. 

 Jimin met his jeer by sitting up straighter, his own emerald eyes glinting an icy blue. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed the way Jimin’s hair suddenly darkened from blonde to a deep fiery red. 

“That’s low, hyung. Because you know Jungkook can’t help himself when he sees a cat! He turns straight away, last time he chased me for a whole hour!”  

 “Ya! It was not that long! Stop making everything seem more dramatic than it really is, Jimin.” Jungkook countered, slamming his fists on the table and causing everything to jump.

Silently, you locked eyes with Hoseok directly across from you, who was trying to enjoy his meal in peace. He sighed deeply, defeated. Something told you this must be a regular occurrence when they sat down for a meal together. His fork was halfway to his lips when Jimin knocked his arm in his bickering, leaving a trail of gravy down the front of his white tunic where his food dropped.

Taehyung stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape and all the commotion in the room ceased. He walked to the open door before pausing to turn and look at you expectantly. 

 “(Y/N), come with me.”

 ***

There were so many faces. Every step you progressed deeper into the mansion, seemingly further away from the only people who seemed to occupy it, yet you were always being watched. 

It was difficult to see past his broad shoulders, swaying with each step he took, so your attention turned to the walls as they passed. He owned a great number of statues, and a lot of paintings you noticed. Yet, the thing that seemed strange about the number of stone figures was that they greatly outnumbered the amount of real people in this large place. You hadn’t been here very long, but it became apparent rather quickly just how empty these walls seemed.

An eerie feeling of loneliness clung to the air, permeating it in the facade of art. Perhaps he liked being that way. Perhaps he just liked art. Who knew? You certainly didn’t, he was a complete stranger to you and had been none too hasty to reveal anything to you. Yet.

 The walls around you slowly changed from being dark, solid wood that left you feeling enclosed, to panels of glass like a greenhouse with plants every few steps. The hallway opened up to reveal a larger space with a fountain in the middle, water softly trickling down in white noise. He didn’t look at you, instead Taehyung perched himself on the edge of the pond, staring into the water in silence. 

“Sit,” he ordered, gaze not moving from his fingertips creating small ripples in the water’s surface. You were quick to obey, anxious about what you could sense Taehyung was about to reveal.

 “It all began about a year and a half ago, when an angel was cast from his place in heaven. That alone was not an uncommon occurrence, it has happened many times before and was no cause for alarm. Those on the path of righteousness sometimes stray so far they are unable to return, or simply aren’t welcome. They often become beings that spend the rest of their days in the human realms, living a sort of half existence. A select few, however, turn to darkness.” He said, still staring into the depths of the water. The back of your neck prickled due to the direction of the conversation. “This one particular angel, his name was Seungri.”

 There it was. The name immediately sent cold shivers down your spine, unconsciously your hands balled into fists. Taehyung regarded you with a careful gaze, trying to figure out what your nervous expression meant. The way your teeth sunk into the soft flesh of your bottom lip caught his gaze, his eyes following as you solemnly nodded. “I know it.” 

 He sat up much straighter at your confession, visibly intrigued.

“I had this terrifying dream that I was dying. No…not dying. I was murdered. The strangest thing was I felt like I wanted to trust the man who drove the dagger into my heart. I wanted to trust him…Seungri,” you described in a small voice, fearful of what reaction your revelation might elicit from the man next to you. Yet he didn’t move, didn’t appear to breathe as if a picture-perfect replica of one of his many sculptures.

“The occurrence that you speak of, you didn’t dream it I’m afraid. You are describing something that really happened.”

 “What – no, you can’t be serious,” you quipped back, yet Taehyung only looked at you solemnly. His silence told you everything you needed to know. “But it was horrific.” Without a word, he stood and held out his hand to you, and without question you took it.

Before giving you a chance to stand on your own he was pulling you to your feet with unnatural strength. Another tug brought you stumbling right into his solid chest, and his arms wrapped around you. It felt nice and warm and oh so comforting for a fleeting moment before the room around you was swallowed by tendrils of black smoke. Your stomach lurched from the feeling of suddenly moving inhumanly fast, and when you blinked your surroundings were entirely changed.

The bright white room was still spinning in your eyes when you came to, you could somewhat make out the dozens of marble statues scattered around.

“H-how…how did you do that?!” You questioned, only able to focus on the face directly in front of you while the rest of the room was hazy.

“I’m a demon, sweetheart. I can do a lot more.” He teased, turning to look around.

You suddenly noticed was that you had been here before. This was the exact place your dream had occurred, and you gasped softly, looking toward the end of the room.

There stood a statue of Eve in the very place that she died.

Startled by the reality of it all, you stepped back only to gently bump into Taehyung. Large, warm and already familiar hands gripped your shoulders to steady you. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he reassured, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. Did he really just smile at you? (Y/N)?

You gave him a small nod before stepping away, attention shifting back to the statue. The closer you got, the more it was like looking in a mirror. Cautiously, you traced a finger down the bridge of her nose, across her lips, and you swear you felt the faintest touch mirrored on your own. A faint shudder manifested through your body as your fingertips slipped off her chin. Your chin, you couldn’t help but think.

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to every move you made, every little curious touch, the way you frowned slightly when you discovered she even had the same mole on her right ear. You were more cautious, didn’t seem to trust things so easily. Unlike Eve. You weren’t like her at all.

“Who was she?” You finally asked after a long silence, turning back to look at Taehyung.

“She was a goddess, and a powerful one at that. I still remember the evening she came here for the first time, as if she could sense we were in danger. It was pouring rain, a night much like this one, and she was drenched to the bone and freezing.”

“But where did she come from? Surely you would have heard of her before?” You cut in, curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung tutted, looking slightly irritated at your interruption. “Inquisitive little human, aren’t you?” Your mouth twisted into a sour pout, not really appreciating the comment since all this time he’d kept you in the dark about what was really happening. His features softened a little. “But I can understand why you would be. She came to us the day after Seungri fell. At first, nothing was out of place. Things were…good and…happy. She made me happy.”  The last part was so quiet you barely heard, but when you did your heart twisted.

“It’s been a year since, well…you know well enough what happened,” he continued. “Small run ins between the magical beings that roam the human realm are by no means uncommon, neither was Seungri’s fall from grace unheard of. There was no cause for alarm, and that was the first mistake we made. She came to us for a reason, we should have been paying more attention. Creatures of all kinds started showing up dead, even angels. The strangest part was they had all been drained of their abilities. We’re not sure exactly how many, because their bodies began to disappear as well. See all the statues? These were all people I loved. He killed them, Seungri killed them.”

“What?” you gasped, stepping toward him. “Oh Taehyung…I’m so sorry.”

“What’s done is done. I couldn’t protect them.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this. Your actions were not what caused their deaths.��� He wouldn’t look at you, and your hand bunched into a fist from the urge to touch his shoulder or do something to comfort him, but you decided against it. “I can’t help but ask…why did he do it?”  

“Simple, he wanted power. He wanted to be the most powerful being in existence, forge his own throne and have everyone bow to him. Somehow he has the ability to siphon others’ abilities, which makes him very dangerous. Our second mistake was underestimating him, we should never have left Eve alone. I thought she could easily protect herself if he went after her. I was wrong, he was much more powerful that I thought. She put up a good fight, however, it didn’t kill him. He was severely wounded, and we haven’t seen any sign of him since. But he’s out there somewhere, recovering and waiting. I have no idea what his next move will be, he’s been silent for so long. I’ve been trying everything in my own power and those I know to hunt him down while he is weak. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a coward.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why I’m here, and why I look like her,” you pointed out, turning back to stand face to face with the statue.  

“I think I know,” his deep voice came from behind you, warm breath tickling the back of your neck and causing the hairs to stand on end. You turned around only to find Taehyung was incredibly close, he backed you into the statue, a tiny squeak leaving you when you hit stone. Your eyes were drawn to the intriguing shape of his lips, your own tingled in memory of the way his devoured them. “The universe needs balance, and when Eve was...gone, it gave us you. I had begun to lose hope that we would have a fighting chance against him when he does inevitably return. But now we have you – you can help us. You bring a new hope to this war.”

“Hope? Hope? Have you ever considered that maybe you’re wrong? I’m not some super powerful goddess or entity or whatever she was. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to be your fucking mascot? To fight a war that, quite frankly, terrifies me? I’m not just some replacement that you can snatch up because it was so convenient. Surely, I have more purpose than that...” you trailed off, voice that began as defensive fading to a defeated mumble.

“Do you really think that’s true, (Y/N)?” Taehyung asked, a knowing taunt to his question. As if he could see all the hours you spent staring at your ceiling while you weren’t working in hospitality, deciding what course you life was going to take. Not just from now on either, for you had asked yourself that many times in the past. Where are you going? Who are you? What are you doing? When will you change? 

At your silence, Taehyung moved forward even further causing you to press harder against the marble statue. Against what was essentially Eve’s tombstone, all the memories of how she was violently murdered came rushing back into your mind. Was that what fate awaited you?

 “I don’t want any part in this,” was all you managed to choke out before you shoved past him. 

So you ran.  

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you. The distance that you and Taehyung had walked passed by in a blur, the entrance hall coming closer and closer. Chairs scraped as the others scrambled to stand when you rushed past the dining room. Faintly, through the ringing in your ears you heard Jungkook almost whining your name.

The iron gate slammed shut behind you, sounding like another crack of thunder through the rain, the droplets battering against your skin. Your vision was obscured by it as you located the scooter and kicked it to life, not once looking over your shoulder as the mansion grew further and further away.

It was easier not to believe. Much, much simpler to just take a warm shower and succumb to sleep once you arrived back to your dark and silent apartment. Tomorrow you would go to work like usual. It was normal, and normal was good, you could understand it. Normal was safe.

***

“...me. Hello? Excuse me!” 

The cold of the drink seeping into your hand finally snapped you out of the daydream that had been occupying your thoughts, your fingertips tingling from becoming numb. 

“Right! Yes, sorry. Here you go, one large iced mocha to go,” you announced as if you hadn’t been almost drooling on yourself moments ago mid-daydream. The young customer took it from your hands and backed away slowly, almost as if you would try to harm him if he made any sudden movements. You wanted to throw your arms in the air and yell I’m not crazy! However, you knew that would certainly have the opposite effect. A fed-up huff came from your lips as you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of all these lingering thoughts. No, you didn’t want to know if Taehyung was thinking of you...right? No! He was dangerous and would only bring trouble and disruption into your perfectly peaceful life. Anyway, days had passed and you were safe now and fully intended on living a mundane and monster free lifestyle.

“Excuse me, dear,” a frail voice drew your attention back to the counter, where a short elderly woman waited patiently for assistance. You were in front of her in an instant, smiling kindly at the way her hands trembled as they gripped her cane weakly. “I was wondering if you could help me with the board up there. I’m terribly sorry, I’ve left my glasses somewhere and it’s a struggle for me to see very far without them.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. Don’t apologise, I’ll go through the options with you. Here,” you pulled out a much smaller menu from the display and began rattling off each item to her, but the brush of her finger on your hand stopped you abruptly.

“Say, a young lady I once knew had a mole just like the one on your wrist. She was very pretty, just like you,” the old lady commented, a kind smile etched into her wrinkled features.

The remark was very sweet and would normally have left you feeling warm and fuzzy inside, however, you couldn’t help the way you internally recoiled at the way she said just like you. A cold shiver ran down your spine due to the way she looked at you intensely, but you couldn’t blame her due to her old eyes. Regardless, you still rushed to finish up with her and seat her at one of the tables, the rather thick hairs around her top lip and the glassiness were starting to creep you out.

You spent the next two hours being run off your feet as usual, huffing in relief when it was time for you to go home finally. Despite getting the answers you so desired, your ability to sleep seems to have only gotten worse, as did the nightmares. So much for normal, it was easy to pretend while you were at work, as soon as you got home it was so quiet on your own. It was still more than a week until Isabella was due back from her holiday with her family, and you missed her terribly.

A loud thunk sound made you jump, only to relax when you saw a napkin pressed up against the glass from inside the coffee shop. Friday? it read in sharpie, held up by your coworker with a large grin spread across his face. You couldn’t help the way your own mouth copied his, breaking out into an ecstatic smile as well. He had asked you to accompany him to a party on Friday night, and you had agreed a little too eagerly, jumping at the opportunity to do something which you once thought you’d never enjoy. A small nod from you had him grinning wider, despite the minute feeling of guilt that bubbled up within you. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you might actually like him if you gave him a chance, you continued to catch yourself thinking about him. 

You took your frustration out on a small rock that came across your path, continually kicking it along the footpath in front of you every couple of steps. Each time it travelled a little farther as you got more annoyed with yourself. You would never see the man again, it’s so much easier to just forget about him. Yet you had to admit your heart ached in a way it never had before, like an undeniable connection was under the threat of being broken. Like the two of you were destined to be togeth-

“Argh!” You cried out, giving the stone an especially harsh kick. There you go again, letting your thoughts run rampant. The rock skidded to a stop at the intersection, right at the feet of an elderly person about to step into oncoming  traffic. Acting blindly, you lurched forward into a sprint. “Wait! It’s not safe to cross yet!” She froze midstep, unable to move until you grabbed her shoulder before she could step any farther, gasping when you recognised the little old lady from before.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, grasping your arm to steady herself when she stumbled, suddenly released from her daze. She blinked a couple of times, squinting up at you before her eyes narrowed further. “It’s you…” Her voice dropped with the last two words, and you swore she hissed. You were about to ask her if she was hurt while straightening, but her grip on your arm tightened. 

“Hey,” you cooed in a soothing tone, she might be in shock or frightened. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“You’re not.” 

“What?”

“He’s coming for you. It’s only a matter of time.” 

In the blink of an eye you were pulled toward her with an unnatural amount of strength for her deceitful appearance, and white hot pain erupted from your arm as her sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh. You tried to scream in pain and fear, but her hand clamped over your mouth, clawed fingernails digging into your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You mustered enough strength to push her off, her teeth momentarily latching on harder causing more of your flesh to tear as you struggled to get away. She screamed out in a manic laugh, but you had already turned and began to flee, wild panic driving you to sprint faster. Before long your lungs were burning and you had tears streaming down your face but you didn’t dare stop. A look over your shoulder only caused you more terror at the sight of some kind of demon in pursuit on all fours, nose following your trail of blood.

You made a sharp right turn, stomach dropping in dread when you saw a few innocent bystanders. You screamed at them to run, waving your uninjured arm maniacally. However, they didn’t budge as you caught up to them, didn’t hear you coming up behind even as you made quite the ruckus. You stopped abruptly in front of them, panic obvious in your expression and the way your chest heaved. Just as you were about to cry out in a panic yet again they walked right past you, completely oblivious.

They couldn’t see or hear you.

You stumbled after them as they passed, deep in conversation with one another but it was useless. They continued to walk down the street, unaware of your presence. They soon disappeared from sight while you continued to stumble along the path, feet dragging and vision blurring around the edges. Something was definitely wrong, you thought as you collapsed on the ground. A glance at your arm confirmed it was healed, no longer dripping with blood but the two puncture marks were still prominent. They looked infected and pulsated with something dark green. 

After a few seconds your vision became far too blurry, and you found yourself unable to keep your eyes open any longer. Everything started to go black and you slumped to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness. 

***

When you opened your eyes again, all you could see was darkness still. It must have been the middle of the night, you noticed as you sat up in bed, your bed you noticed. The familiar dark space of your bedroom came into focus as you blinked several times, willing away the bittersweet embrace of sleep. Quickly you pulled your arm out from under the covers, noticing it no longer hurt, and as you looked closer you could see no evidence of the encounter ever happening. Was it another nightmare? It must have been, how did you get back home safely? What happened to the demon that was following you?

As if sensing your thoughts, you noticed an unfamiliar shape in the corner of the room where the shadows were at their darkest. You gasped quietly, panic setting in as an arm reached out, fingers brushing the stem of the lamp. You froze as a soft glow illuminated your room.

In the armchair, one ankle hooked casually over his knee sat Taehyung. His rings shone softly in the light as they drummed against his cheek.

“Quite the troublemaker, aren’t we?”

“I-I um,” you shuffled through your thoughts trying to look for an explanation, seeming as though he likely found you unconscious on the sidewalk, arm mauled and venom pumping through your veins.  “Well, it’s not l-l-like I...um,” you swallowed nervously as he stood from his seat, slowly stepping toward the bed. He cocked an eyebrow at your unfinished answer. “I didn’t go looking for it, it just happened.”

“A lot of things seem to have just happened to you recently, haven’t they?” He questioned rhetorically, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. He was much closer now, and you sank back down into the sheets gripping the covers almost to your chin. It was cooler in his presence and you were well aware of how much your nipples poked out against the thin fabric of your shirt. “You’re not safe by yourself. Come back to the mansion, please Y/N. Come back to me.” He whispered, each word he spoke he had inched closer until his breath fanned over your cheek. You didn’t stop him even as his lips brushed your skin, capturing the corner of your mouth. You didn’t stop him as his fingertips dragged up your body over the covers, drawing a line straight through the valley of your breasts and his fingers gripped the top of the doona. He pulled it down slowly, and you gasped softly at the way it dragged over your painfully stiff peaks. Taehyung easily swallowed the sound, laving his tongue over yours in a brief show of dominance. 

“What are you-” you began to ask but you were quickly silenced by his index finger being pressed to your lips.

“Hush sweetheart.” He bent down, warm breath tickling your lips before seeking to nibble on the corner of your mouth again. Instead of moving to deepen the kiss, he continued a blazing path down your cheek toward your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingertips brushing the top of your blanket that was still covering your legs before eyeing you, waiting. You nodded once, giving him silent permission and Taehyung pulled the covers down, a rush of cool air made your skin break out in goose bumps yet you felt hotter than ever. He slotted a knee between your thighs as his mouth returned to your neck, his delightful lips pressed a soft kiss right behind your ear after he leaned down to whisper words of praise to you for allowing him access.

 His hot, wet tongue made you squirm when it laved over the crook in your neck, seeking out the spot where you were most sensitive. You whined loudly when he found it, a satisfactory smirk stretching across his lips before he began suckling a bruise there. Your nipples scraped over his chest with every heave of your lungs, god they were extra sensitive right now. He relented with a chuckle, shifting further down to nip your collarbone before honing in on the stiff peak poking through your shirt.

He drew your left nipple into his mouth, and your hips bucked unconsciously as you gasped, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading firmly. The cavern of his mouth was so hot and created a wet patch where he suckled your peak through your shirt. A nip of his teeth drew another whine from you, before he relented the abused nipple only to latch on to the other. 

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart, that’s it,” he whispered, not really giving you an option with the way his fingers gripped your knees and pried them open, but it was embarrassing how quickly you complied. How quickly you wanted to comply. “Good girl, so eager and ready for me, aren’t you?” Quickly he settled his own hips at the apex of your thighs, and you mewled at the feeling of his bulge brushing against the wet patch on your sleep shorts. 

 “Please Taehyung,” you whimpered, whole body twitching with need. You jumped again when the cool metal of his rings brushed across your heated skin, trailing down your hips until his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He glanced up and locked eyes with you for a moment, something feral was alight in his gaze that made your pelvic floor clench around nothing. You shivered as he dragged your shorts, panties included, ever so slowly, never breaking eye contact.

Taehyung’s mouth quickly followed, laving over your stomach in slow, torturous kisses. Occasionally he would nip your skin and soothe the bite with a lick. When he finally sat back, his grip on your knees tightened and he pushed them wide apart, gaze falling to your exposed core. You whimpered in embarrassment and tried to snap them closed but it only elicited a growl from him, clearly displeased at your disobedience. When you stilled he smirked, and shifted down to lay on his stomach with his face centimetres from your cunt. Warm air fanned against your glistening folds as he chuckled in amusement at how worked up you had gotten.

“You’re practically gushing, sweetheart. Do you really need me that badly?” He questioned, but before you had an opportunity to answer he dragged his flattened tongue over your honeyed hole, devouring your juices in long slow swipes. The muscle ventured to the side, sucking hickies all around your pussy lips but making no move to return to your most sensitive parts.

The drag of his sinfully warm tongue continued on and was driving you near insane, drawing one long, wide circle just outside of where you needed him most. Every now and then he would tease you with the lightest lave of the muscle over your clenching orepheus, but he never quite delved in. Your pussy clenched pathetically from the lightest dip.

Suddenly driven impatient and worked up to a point where you didn’t care, your hands flew down to find purchase in his silky blonde locks. You attempted to push his head further into your heat to gain some stimulation as you rutted your hips up, not remember that he had an agenda of his own. With a feral growl, he pulled away, one large hand coming to enclose your wrists and tug them from his head.

“Now now sweetheart, you aren’t being very well behaved are you? I might just have to put you over my knee and teach you some manners, hm?” He drawled, the pads of his fingers dipping into your wetness teasingly, before sitting back as he brought them up to admire the strings of your arousal that connected them. 

“Please please,” you whined, continuing to squirm. The playful smirk he once adorned fell from his face only to be replaced by something displeased. His free hand moved so suddenly you barely registered the movement until you felt a sharp sting across your pussy. He repeated the action once more, leaving you mewling underneath him from the smack.

 “First warning,” he growled, hunkering back down.

Finally his tongue delved into your entrance, licking up the pool of juices you were sure had gathered there by now. The tip of his tongue stopped just short of your throbbing bud, and you squirmed from being so close to the stimulation you craved. His thumb came up just above your pearl, pulling back the hood to expose it. He blew air on it gently and when your hips began to buck he finally trapped it between his lips only to begin suckling without mercy. The action tore a near scream from your lips, if you were squirming before, you were positively thrashing now as his teeth nipped at your sensitive clit. The sudden you onslaught of pleasure had your pelvic muscles contracting so hard you swore you almost gushed all over the sheets.

He eased off a little, opting for more gentle suckles and licks against your bud, but they were strong enough to still have you clenching and whining as your climax drew closer. The push of something slim and solid against your entrance had your eyes going wide for a moment, before he sunk his middle finger into your cunt easily. Immediately your walls clamped down on it, welcoming the intrusion. Taehyung lifted his head off to admire the way your head was thrown back against the pillows, eyes rolling back into your head. You whimpered when he pushed another finger in, two making a delicious stretch that had your spread legs twitching. He chuckled endearingly at your response, and how smoothly you’d taken them into your sopping pussy.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “So eager for me, let me hear you.” 

The continuous drag of his fingers against your walls elicited a loud moan from your panting lips, particularly when he easily located the soft spongy bed of nerves nestled within. He crooked his fingers, pleased at the way you grew tighter, that coil in your stomach getting closer to snapping. “That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” he growled, lips seizing your clit once more and he lashed his tongue against it without mercy in tangent with the movement of his wrist. 

After being on the brink for some time, this easily tipped you over and you hurtled into your climax. You felt every muscle lock up as you hit the peak of pleasure, a loud sting of cries torn from within as you began to tremble and buck your hips when Taehyung refused to let up. The pleasure became a little overwhelming once your orgasm had finally subsided, and you pushed Taehyung away with a whine. He sat back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. The fingers that still glistened with your juices, rings and all, were popped into his mouth. He groaned as they dragged over his tongue, and the sound made you twitch, still sensitive.

His sinful lips were moving, but no sound was coming from them. You frowned, still in an elated haze wondering if perhaps it was just your ears ringing. He was talking more, the expression on his face looking alarmed now.

You tried to sit up, reassure him that you felt completely fine but strong hands gripped your shoulders and held you back down. When you looked up your vision was blurred, your eyes were unable to focus on the room around you and you could no longer see Taehyung clearly. 

You began to resist against the hands holding you down, shouting out in confusion. Your arm throbbed in pain, it felt white hot and swollen. Someone was shaking you by the shoulders, and you squeezed your eyes shut. This felt wrong, you felt incredibly groggy and your head was pounding.

“(Y/N)! Wake up!” A voice was calling out, sounding far away. It repeated your name a few times, each one getting louder until your eyes snapped open to look at the figure hovering over you, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Yoongi?”

“Would you like to explain why I found you half dead on the sidewalk?”

***

You were back at the mansion.

Shadows danced in the corners of the room as the fire cast a warm glow across the library, giving off comforting crackling sounds every few seconds. Taehyung was noticeably absent, and you opened your mouth to question his whereabouts. An uneasy feeling came over you, however, and you decided against it. He didn’t want to see you right now.

You had woken up in Yoongi’s workroom, your wounded arm wrapped in a bandage. A demon bite, and a nasty one too he informed you. The type that causes people to go insane before they died, hallucinating things they...desire. The fire warmed your already rosy cheeks, flaming in embarrassment at what had occurred in your dream. It felt incredibly real.

“I can’t believe you survived that, honestly. I’ve seen a lot of bites like that before and the end result is never anything pretty. People go downhill pretty quickly.” Yoongi mused, staring straight into the burning flames, light flickering in his eyes.

“Good people too,” Hoseok added as he came back into the room, offering you a steaming mug of tea which you accepted gracefully. “Here.” He also draped a blanket across your shoulders, causing you to melt a little under his doting. 

“Thank you, really.”

“Don’t mention it, you’ve been through quite a lot, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse. Demon numbers are on the rise. No doubt it’s related to...him.” Hoseok looked away as he talked about Seungri, and you eyed his wings remembering how Seungri had a pair just like them, only black. You had a sinking feeling the two were connected somehow. 

“That...thing. The demon, it said something to me. He’s coming for me.” You shuddered at the thought, at your dreams, what Taehyung said to you. Everyone in the room turned to look at you, and Yoongi opened his mouth to speak.

He was interrupted as a crack of thunder boomed through the sky, flashes of lightning illuminating the room. The doors to the library were thrown open with a tremendous bang causing everybody to jump. Two figures appeared in the doorway as more lightning struck.

“Well, well, well…what do we have here?” The first one said, tilting his head at you and giving a far from comforting smile. Yoongi was quick to be by your side.

“Namjoon, Seokjin….this is (Y/N).”

A/N: I’m sorry for the late update!!! I know it’s been a really long time but I’m such a slow writer, plus my mental state hasn’t been very good lately. If I missed you on the tag list I’m sorry, it’s hard to keep track!!

Tag list:  @lachiminlajimin​ @sugasheart @jessilliam-caronday@yikesskaina @wonzigyumin @diorluvs@xxqueenwxtchxx @irissilujm​ @sweetcrvture @mrcleanheichou @youtube-obsessed-duh @sarahkriswugirl@bangtanlove16 @mariacorbi @baby-hobii@catsandstrawberries @it-is-dana @januarythirteen @just-a-little-teapot13 @jooheonbee​ @crajishie​ @lyuxs​ @t-mel19​ @joonsroses​ @valiantcollectorofsandwiches​ @psiphidragon​ @ro2424​ @mingukmania​

[slashersrus]

Loki x Reader - Soulmate AU

Warning: Angst.

Life can be cruel, unnecessarily harsh and cold, Loki knew this. He truly believed that he deserved a break, a break from the torture and daily routine in his dismal cell. Staring at the ceiling lifelessly, he ignored Thor’s words, his mothers words, he ignored the world. After so much pain, after so much betrayal and anarchy, he was done. He remembers being a naïve child, so much hope that he could live up to his brother, that he could be special, that he could impress his father. None of that compared to his naïve thoughts about his soulmate. He used to think of it in his mothers garden, a wide smile on his face as he wrote small phrases on his arm, little notes and praying for them to be answered. His smile diminished over the decades, the centuries without reply, the black ink fading and turning his soul cold. He never got a reply, not like Thor did. After learning of his true heritage, his true curse, it suddenly made sense to him. A monster such as him couldn’t have a soulmate, he would never get a reply because there was nobody who could love a frost giant.

After a thousand years without a soulmate, the little naïve boy died and was replaced with a cold replica.

Y/N never had hope of finding her soulmate, a lifetime of being told she was nothing left no room for hope in her heart. She thought about it often, dreamt about it when the night was partially rough, using the idea of a soulmate to shield her mind from her reality, but she knew it was just a dream, a coping mechanism for the pain. The men still came daily, taking her to the nightmare room and doing their experiments. Her fantasy never saved her from the torture.

Moving into the Avengers tower, Thor had hoped it would help Loki, redeem him and bring back the kind boy he used to be, it didn’t. Loki despised living in the tower, having to watch the Avengers with their soulmates, happy. He couldn’t take it. Most days, he would stay in the corner and read, he’d block out the nasty comments from Tony and the encouragements from Thor. He’d snarl and retreat to his room when they asked if he had a soulmate, when they write on each other’s arms, when they would giggle and thank god for having met their match. He couldn’t take much more of it.

Y/N had just been thrown back into her room, her cage, her body aching and bleeding. Her captors, HYDRA, had celebrated her 18th birthday with more extensive testing, pushing her powers to the limits and breaking her further for their own curiosity. They had mocked her, wished her a happy birthday, waved a pen in her face before snatching it away and tossing her into the cell. She knew what they were doing, they were trying to tease her over the fact she could not reach out to her soulmate now that she was of age. It wouldn’t work, their teasing failed, she didn’t have the hope to begin with.

On her 23rd birthday she lay in the fetal position on the stone floor, her body rocked with violent shaking as she cried. She couldn’t take it anymore. The experiments were growing more intense, her power developing at a massive rate and it was scaring her. Was she losing her humanity?

She could control the elements, bend them to her will, turn nature into a disaster. Recently, the scientists had her crushing test subjects using the mud and earth, forcing her to use her once beautiful powers to kill.

As she was slowly giving up the will to live, her days and nights plagued with terror, she did the one thing she didn’t thing she would ever do. She wrote on her arm.

Conjuring a small glob of mud, her shaky fingers dabbed into it before dragging it across her arm painfully slowly. Tears fell from her eyes as she wrote the best she could with the poor ink substitute.

“Hello?”

This was her last chance, the only thing she could think of, to turn to fantasies and dreams to free her.

Loki was silently glaring at the Avengers as they spoke and laughed together when a strange tingling feeling in his wrist caused him to scratch it. When the feeling wouldn’t go away, he looked down at it with a frown only to freeze, his breathing stopping and his eye going wide as letters slowly appeared on his arm.

He must have made a sound of shock, or disbelief, as all the Avengers stopped talking, looking at him in confusion as Thor questioned what was wrong. He didn’t answer him, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. His ears were ringing and his eyes watering as he clutched his wrist delicately, a finger shakily tracing the letters as if they may disappear.

Within one second and the next, Loki had snapped out of his trance, leaping from the chair and darting around the room. He continued to ignore the questions thrown his way as he wildly searched for a pen.

“Brother, calm down, what is it?” Thor stopped him, hands on his shoulders to keep him steady as Loki frantically looked around trying to escape his brothers grasp.

“A pen.” Loki only managed to gasp, he didn’t think to use his magic in his panicked and rushed state.

“Brother?”

“I NEED A PEN!” Shoving Thor away, he ran out of the room to his own, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found a pen sitting idly on his desk.

“Hello.”

He was breathing heavily, his writing shaky and messy as he sat on his bed, his eyes not leaving the ink as he waited. He felt when Thor entered the room, he could tell the moment Thor realised what he was looking at due to the loud gasp of surprise and the congratulations that soon followed. He didn’t care about any of that, he just needed his soulmate to reply. He needed confirmation that this was real, that his soulmate was real, that he actually had one.

It was a long, tense few minutes until he got a reply and the words caused his breath to catch in his throat, “please help me.”

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s chapped lips, hope slowly blossoming in her weary eyes as she cried softly, stroking her arm lovingly. She had just told her soulmate that HYDRA had her captive, she was about to ask their name when the sound of the lock on her cell being opened caused her head to snap up. Frantically pulling her sleeve down, she hid the mud and the letters, she couldn’t let them know.

It had been hours since Loki had heard from his soulmate, he was terrified and pacing the room as the Avengers hacked into multiple HYDRA databases, looking for any sign. If he wasn’t so scared and distracted, he would have been shocked at the willingness they showed to help him.

He had tried writing back multiple times but received no reply each time. Thor was the one who made him stop his frantic writing, showing his intelligence by pointing out that if his soulmate was a captive then they may need to hide the lettering and he should wait to hear from them first. He almost sobbed at the realisation, but quickly stopped his writing, agreeing that Thor had a point. Another thing he would have laughed at had he been in the right frame of mind.

“There’s only one active base with alive captives, whoever they are must be there.” Steve had barely finished when Loki disappeared in a flash of green light.

By the time she was thrown back in her cell, Y/N didn’t have the energy to conjure any mud, instead slumping half conscious on the unforgiving ground as she whimpered and wished for her soulmate to find her.

She didn’t look up as the sound of gunfire and screaming filled the base, she didn’t care. She could barely keep her eyes open, her head lolling against the floor as she breathed roughly. She had no idea how long the screaming continued for until the silence took over followed by rapid footsteps.

At the sound of her cell unlocking, she tried and failed to scuttle backwards, instead a weak whimper leaving her as she closed her eyes and waited for the scientists to come back for her. Whoever was at the door must have heard her pitiful sound as the unlocking sounds stopped and immediately the steel door was yanked off its hinges, flying into the wall with a loud bang.

“Darling.” Her heart beat slightly faster at the pleasant voice, her eyes fluttering as she tried to force her eyelids open.

“Darling? It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” The rapid footsteps approached her at an alarming rate before gentle hands rested on her broken body.

Loki frowned, worry coating his features as he took in his bruised soulmate. He was scared she would fall apart under his gentle touch, his magic flowing through her as he desperately tried to help her in anyway he could.

The pain in her body was slowly replaced by a chilling, numbing sensation. She knew her injuries were still there, but she couldn’t feel them. Pulling her eyes open, she glanced up into the worried green eyes in front of her, the biggest smile she could muster pulling at her cheeks.

Coughing roughly, she managed to speak quietly, “you’re here.”

“I’m here, darling, and I’m not leaving.”

His soft, reassuring words, the magic flowing into her and the bliss of her soulmate made her relax, her body slowly fading into unconsciousness as he held her in his lap.

She was safe. He was here.

[thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth]

Home

Platonic!Billy Batson X Reader X Platonic!Freddy Freeman

Warning: Nothing I can think of? Negative thoughts, small talk of bad foster homes

Word Count: +6,500

A/N: Hey y'all, this is the first fanfic I've ever posted on Tumblr so, I hope you like it! I got the inspiration for this story from @stxn-the-mxn 's story "Runaway". I got permission to write this story, and I urge you to go read their work! Hopefully if it does well I will write a second part! And now, on with the story!

~~~

"So, Ms. L/N, you're last foster home not working out too well for you?" Your social worker asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Sure, you could say that."

She sighed as she looked down at her desk before leaning forward towards you. "And what exactly was wrong with this one?"

You stared down at her desk, folding your arms over your chest. Your last home wasn't the worst you have seen, but anyone could tell it wasn't going to work out. The kids all acted as though you were some kind of vermin infesting their home, going quiet whenever you walked into a room, and making sure to exclude you from almost everything. The parents hadn't noticed, always too busy at work or with their real children.

It had only been a few days before you had decided to take anything of yours, and theirs that you knew wouldn't be missed, and leave. You lasted about two days before the police caught you sleeping against a heater outside someone's house. This house was the final straw. You couldn't take going to another foster family.

"Ms. L/N, you have run from five families in the past three months. I'm sorry to say that we are almost out of options," she sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"That's okay. I'd rather no family than a fake one," you muttered.

"Y/N, I want you to know that I care about you getting into a good home. The last thing I would want would be for you to live out on the streets." Her voice sounded sincere.

You looked up at her, her eyes pleasing for you to listen. You turned your gaze back down to her desk. She's just saying that to try to get you to stay in a home, she doesn't really care.

"I can't go to another foster family," You told her, repeatingly kicking the foot of the desk lightly.

"That's fine," You glanced at her, surprised by her agreement. "I set up for you to go to a group home."

You sat up straight, "Wait, what!?"

You had just run away from a house filled with attention hogging kids and busy parents and now you're getting thrown right back into it? Great, now I know for sure this place isn't gonna work.

"They are just down the hall, waiting to meet you. They're a lovely couple, Rosa and Victor, and have had many kids similar to you in their care," your social worker smiled at you. 

You scoffed, collapsing back into my chair.

"Y/N," she called your name quietly, something in the back of your mind forced you to glance up at her, "Please give these people a shot, you don't know how it will go until you try it."

She stood up from her chair and walked around her desk, stopping in front of you. For the first time since you came into her office, you looked her in the eye.

"I know this is hard, but if you feel this home really isn't the best, or right, or you don't wish to stay for any reason, please call me. I will get you out at any time, if you want. Just, don't leave for the streets." She held out her card. You stared at it for a moment before grabbing it.

She smiled before walking towards the door.

"Let's go meet them!" She opened the door for you.

~

You sat silently, watching the lights of the city pass by through the window of their van. It smelt slightly of peppermint and bubblegum. Better than any other van you've been in, having usually smelled like booze or cigarettes.

"We're almost there, Y/N!" Rosa sent you a smile from the passenger's seat.

"Okay," you mumbled, not turning away from the window.

Sure enough, you soon pulled up to a two-story house alive with light. You stared up at it, worry filling your gut as you thought back on one of your previous foster homes. They had four kids who loved to use their foster siblings to benefit themselves. The eldest had threatened to break an expensive lamp in the living room and blame it on you if you didn't do all of their chores for them. You ran away the next morning.

Victor opened your door for you and held his hand out for you to take. You grabbed your backpack and dropped it into his open hand before snatching your duffel bag off the floor and hopping out of the van. You offered a small smile as a thank you before you took your backpack back, quickly pulling it on.

You caught the small glance Rosa sent Victor before he walked around the side of the van towards her. You slowly trailed behind him as you stared up at the house. Only about a ten foot drop from the second floor. You noticed most of the windows had their lights on which meant there were either a lot of people in the house or these guys really liked to leave their lights on.

"Y/N?" A voice called. You turned and saw Victor and Rosa already on the porch.

"Right. Sorry," You muttered, gripping the handles of your duffel tighter as you quickly made your way towards them.

"So, we know it's a little overwhelming at first, coming to a new home, but we promise everyone is nice and happy to welcome you!" Rosa promised, wrapping her arm comfortingly around your shoulders as Victor opened the door, leading you in.

Your attention quickly went to the large pile of winter clothes and shoes near the stairs. Yup, definitely a lot of people. You looked around the house but didn't spot anyone.

"Kids! We're home!" Victor called out into the seemingly empty house.

Before you knew it, the house jumped alive as people slipped down the stairs and through the rooms.

"Jesus!" You muttered when the group of people finally stopped growing. You counted about six or seven people, not including Victor and Rosa.

"Guys! This is Y/N! Y/N, this is the gang!" Victor introduced you.

You gave a small wave before the smallest one broke out of the group, bringing you into a hug.

"Hi, Y/N! I'm so glad you're here! I'm Darla!" She introduced herself.

You laughed awkwardly, your free arm patting her on the back, not comfortable enough to give her a real hug.

Once she finally pulled away, the tallest in the group stepped forward.

"I'm Mary! Nice to meet you," she held out her hand, which you carefully took.

She pointed out the smallest boy, who gave a small wave, "That's Eugene- '' after hearing her say his name he walked off to the next room, pressing unpause on his hand-held game.  Mary pointed out another boy, who looked a bit older than you, "-and that's Pedro!" After being introduced, he quickly made his way back upstairs, similar to what Eugene did.

Mary turned to Rosa and Victor and quickly engaged them into a separate conversation.

"I'm Freddy," a voice pulled your attention from the two women, and Victor, to the guy who stood in front of you. "That's Billy," He stated, pointing to the other guy who stood near the stair.

You held out your hand for him, "Nice to meet you." You offered a quick smile. 

You glanced down at his hand as you let it go, noticing his opposite arm in a crutch that helped him stand. You quickly looked away, not wanting him to think you were staring.

You turned to the other boy, Billy, and held out your hand just as you had done for Freddy. "Nice to meet you," You gave the same small, fake smile.

"Same here, welcome to the family. You're gonna love it here." He smiled.

You nodded, holding back the stupid remark that nearly came out. "So, any idea where I can put my bags?" You asked.

Freddy smiled, "Yeah, we'll show you! The only rooms left were with Darla or Mary, so we just assumed you'd rather have Mary as a roommate."

You nodded in understanding as you followed the two boys up the stairs.

"Watch out for the trip step!" Billy warned as we went up, you quickly stepped over it.

Freddy and Billy started down the hallway towards Mary's room. You were about to follow them but something in the room across from the stairs caught your attention. You glanced at the boys, who were busy talking, and quickly went in the room, dropping your duffel outside the door before going in.

The room had a computer at the desk, bunk beds, and way too many Superman mementos. On the wall hung at least three framed newspaper articles about Superman. You felt a smile creep onto your face at the sight. These guys were complete nerds! You thought.

As you turned to look at a different article, something flashed in your eye. You quickly turned and saw a batarang sitting on top of the dresser. 

"Holy shit!" You whispered, reaching out to touch it.

"There you are!" You heard someone say at the doorway.

You stepped away from his dresser. "Sorry! I didn't take anything, I swear." You promised, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

Freddy made his way towards you, Billy close behind. "It's all good. That's actually just a replica but it looks and feels real!" He told me, pointing at the batarang.

"It's really cool," you smiled at him.

"Personally, I think Batman is a little over rated. Now, Superman? He's a real hero!" Freddy told you, pointing out the newspapers on his wall.

You laugh, "Yeah, I can tell. Both are pretty good, but I think we all know the real superhero is Wonder Woman." I told him.

Billy quickly interjected, "Come on, Batman is obviously better than both of your over glorified heroes!”

"She is literally a goddess, that plus her perfect track record equals the best hero." You smiled at him. "Besides, didn't Batman kill Superman just for being from a different planet? Sounds pretty racist to me." You said the last part in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah! Plus, Batman has had a million sidekicks, who he forced to all share the same name, for some reason, while Wonder Woman and Superman don't need any sidekicks!" Freddy joined in on my bashing of Batman.

"You know what? Superman sucks!" Billy yelled.

Before Freddy could yell back, Mary interrupted from the doorway. 

"Boys! Have you shown her to her room yet or were you just bickering the entire time?" She asked. The two scrambled to answer only for it to come out as jumbled yelling.

Mary sighed before turning to you. "Come on, I'll show you to our room."

You nodded, side stepping the two boys who looked ready to start their yelling match all over again. Mary picked your duffel bag off of the floor on your way out and started down the hallway to the last door.

Mary walked across the room to the empty bed with the desk at the foot of it. She placed your bag on the bed before turning to you with a smile.

"This one is your bed, feel free to unpack," Mary pointed out the dresser next to the desk, "The drawers on the right are all open for you. I'm going back downstairs, but if you need anything just ask."

You nodded and gave a quick thanks before she slipped out of the room. Frowning at your roommate's quick departure, you began looking around your new room. Two beds, one dresser, and a desk fit surprisingly snugly in the average sized space. Must be the paint color, you thought.

Before sitting on the bed, you pulled your duffel bag onto the floor and your backpack off of your back. You rested your backpack into your lap before zipping it open and digging out an old, beaten up notebook. You flipped to the next page before quickly snatching a pen out of a purple mug that sat on the desk at the end of the bed.

You sat down back down on your bed, placing your backpack next to your feet on the floor, before I started to scribble out the basics about your new home.

     House #16- Group Home #1

*Dad- Victor Vasquez

*Mom- Rosa Vasquez

*Child 1- Mary

*Child 2- Pedro

*Child 3- Freddy

*Child 4- Billy

*Child 5- Eugene

*Child 6- Darla

You made sure to leave plenty of lines between each name for when you found out more about then, and put the date at the top of the page with a dash for the date when you leave.

You clicked the pen closed and quickly shut the notebook, throwing them both into your backpack before kicking it under the bed.

"Dinner!" You heard Victor call from downstairs.

When you got to the dining room, everyone was already in their seats, waiting patiently as they talked amongst themselves. When you walked in, all conversation stopped, making you suddenly feel very self conscious as you walked to your seat.

"Sorry," You muttered as you quickly sat down in the only empty chair, which sat between Freddy and Eugene. It was a tight squeeze, obvious that they had forced the chair to fit uncomfortably with the rest at the table.

"It's all good," Victor smiled as you finally settled into the chair. "Now that we are all here, all hands on deck!"

Everyone placed their hand in the middle of the table, piled on top of each other. You glanced at everyone, unsure if you had to too, but quickly had your question answered when Victor started speaking.

"Thank you for this family, thank you for this day, thank you for this food and the new family member who we hope will stay." Victor said before everyone pulled their hand away and quickly started grabbing food.

You felt like sinking down into your chair. Did they all think I was going to try to leave on the first day? He wouldn't say it if he didn't think so, would he?  Now if I decide to leave, I might feel obliged to stay. If I do want to stay, will they just think of me as a flight risk?

Once everyone looked close to being done piling food onto their plates, you started taking small portions of everything, wanting everyone to get what they wanted before you got any.

"Y/N, would you like some more? You barely grabbed anything." Rosa offered, holding out the bowl of green beans.

You quickly pulled on a smile and shook your head. "No, thank you. I'm alright, just not that hungry!" You reassured her.

She hummed, not looking completely satisfied. You watched as she shot Victor a quick look as she took a drink from her glass.

You looked back to your plate, feeling your appetite slip away. You instead listened to the others' conversation about their days, school, and work.

Mary was talking to Victor about college, Billy and Freddy discussed some new game that had just come out, which quickly caught Eugene's attention, and Darla was talking Rosa's ear off. Pedro sat quietly as he ate, but he seemed like the type to keep to himself.

Once each conversation began to bore you, you turned back to the little bit of food left on your plate. You were busy pushing a lone green bean around your plate before you felt someone nudge you. You turned in Freddy's direction only for him to nod to Rosa.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" You asked.

"I was just wondering if you had any hobbies?"

"Oh uh-no, not particularly. Uh, I like going out for walks and reading." You told her.

"That's great! There is actually a park close by, if you'd ever want to go. And Mary has a whole collection of books I'm sure she'd be glad to let you go through." Rosa offered. You gave a fake smile.

"That sounds nice!" You nodded, suddenly feeling the urge to eat, just to escape the conversation and go back to listening instead. You began eating again, thankful for Darla recapturing Rosa's attention.

It wasn't long before everyone started cleaning up the table and putting everything in the kitchen before heading into what you assumed was the living room.

After clearing off your plate, you planned to head straight to your room but stopped at the entrance of the living room when you saw the way everyone sat together in front of the TV.

They looked like most of the families you'd been with, only, they looked happy to be together as they watched the mindless program. The boys all sat on a long couch that hung near the wall, Darla and Mary sharing a smaller couch on the other side, and Victor and Rosa in the smallest chair directly across the room from the tv.

You watched them for a moment as they all enjoyed each other's company. Now, how in the world would you ever fit into this little world? They all were so different and yet got along so well. Even if you tried, you'd have no idea how to fit into this life and you definitely didn't want to change this for them.

Just before you could turn to leave, the tv switched to a breaking news report of a runaway train in downtown. Everyone gasped at the sight of a high speed train, racing down its tracks. The kids all glanced at each other and gave a small nod.

They all stood up and started towards the exit, you quickly stood close to the wall, acting interested in the tv. Now, where in the-

"Where are you guys all going?" Victor asked them, practically reading your mind.

"Water!"

"Bathroom!"

"Pajamas!"

They all yelled out different excuses. You, Rosa, and Victor watched as they all rushed upstairs.

"Oh, Y/N!" Victor noticed you in the doorway, "Would you like to join us? We're just watching a Christmas movie."

"Thank you, but I think I'm gonna just go up to Mary's room and... unpack," You quickly thought of an excuse.

"Oh, okay. Feel free to join us when you're done," Rosa said with a small smile.

"Yeah, of course," You nodded before turning and rushing up the stairs after the group.

All of the lights were off except the small sliver that managed to slip under Billy and Freddy's door. You heard multiple voices, assuming everyone was in there together. A strong voice in your head screamed to knock on the door and ask to join them but a different, stronger voice told you they wouldn't want you to. 

They all were so kind earlier, I doubt they would mind if I joined them. Besides, what could they possibly be doing or talking about that they would mind you being there for? After you quickly battled your brain, you finally came to a decision. 

Knock, knock, knock!

The room became dead silent. You waited patiently for any form of response, knots beginning to tie in your stomach.

After what felt like hours, a reply finally came. "Who is it?"

"Hey guys, it's me," you answered, grimacing at the sound of your own nervous voice, "I was just wondering if I could hang out with you guys! I didn't really feel like unpacking so I-"

Eugene's voice quickly interrupted me."Sorry, no! We're busy!"

You nearly took a step backwards at the quick rejection. The knots in your stomach suddenly morphed into humiliation, confusion, and disappointment.

"Oh-uh... yeah, okay. No problem!" You quickly faked a cheerful voice. "Sorry for bothering you!"

Your face suddenly started to feel hot as you hurried down the hall to Mary's room. After shutting the door behind you, you slapped your hand against your forehead.

Jeez, that could not have gone worse! What happened? I thought I was getting along with everyone well... or was it just me? Maybe everyone was pretending to get along with me because I'm new to the house. Maybe they don't really like me.

Your mind ran wild as you tried to come up with reasons why they were suddenly too busy to even come to the door and give a proper explanation of why you couldn't join them.

Overthinking is definitely not what you wanted to be doing right now. Maybe they really just were busy. Christmas is in like two weeks, maybe they were just working on a present for Rosa and Victor. Yeah, that's it. It probably has nothing to do with you at all!

You decided to just calm down, go downstairs for a drink of water, and watch the movie with the rest of the house. With one last deep breath, you left the room, climbed down the stairs, and headed straight to the kitchen.

Now, just get your water and watch the movie with everyone! the voice in your head encouraged. A smile unknowingly rested on your lips as you grabbed a cup from the cupboard and quickly filled it in the sink.

"You guys came back at just the right time, commercials just ended." You heard Victor say from the living room.

Your legs carried you to the doorway of the living room, only to stop you at the doorway. Most of the space on the couches were taken up by the kids who you, until now, believed to still be in Billy and Freddy's room.

"Where is Billy? He's going to miss it," Rosa asked, looking at the now empty spot on the couch.

Mary and Pedro exchanged worried glances and Darla quickly avoided all eye contact and stared at the tv.

"Oh, uh..." Freddy started but nothing came out.

"Darla?" Victor asked, knowing she would give the truth.

"Um, I-!" she started, but I quickly cut her off.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure he went to take a shower. I heard the water running on my way back downstairs," I quickly explained, giving her a smile.

Rosa smiled when she noticed me standing in the hall, "Oh, okay. Thank you, Y/N. Were you gonna join us?"

You looked around the living room. Everyone diverted their eyes from you, sending looks between each other. Maybe they really do don't like me.

"I still have some unpacking to do, I just came down to get some water," You held your cup up to show her, giving a weak smile.

"Alright, mi amor, feel free to join us when you finish!" She called after me as you quickly left and headed back to Mary's room.

~~~

"What are you doing?"

You turned to find Mary at the door. She rushed over to you and quickly closed the window.

"What?" You asked, confused by her sudden rush to close the window.

"Look, I can't stop you from leaving but, just so you know, that's a much bigger drop than you think it is," Mary warned you.

You lifted an eyebrow. "Really? You think I'm that big of a flight risk? Look, if I wanted to leave, I would walk out the front door, not risk breaking a leg by jumping out a damn window." You told her, plopping down onto your bed.

"Then, what were you doing?" She asked.

"Looking at the view, enjoying the night air, seeing if you have any flower bushes in the ground that I can enjoy during the spring," You list off.

Mary watched you carefully, looking for a lie. She nodded and turned away once she felt satisfied.

You laid down on the bed fully, not minding your shoes resting on the comforter. At least now you have some time to decide if you want to stay for a little while of leave and give your social worker a call.

If you did want to leave, you would have to leave then find a phone booth to call her from, just to ensure not having to see Rosa and Victor's disappointed faces when they are told I didn't want to live with them. You didn't really care about making everyone else disappointed, well, besides Darla.

Though, this has been the kindest place to live in a long time. Maybe a pros and cons list would help?

Pros: good food, nice guardians, okay children, warm place to sleep, people who possibly care for you, best home you have been to in years, would have a nice place to spend Christmas for once

Cons: crowded, kids possibly don't like you, little privacy, and there were no flower bushes outside

This place was much better than a lot of places you've been forced to live in, but that doesn't mean it is the right fit. If you did leave, maybe your social worker could get you into another group home, just with less kids.

If you did leave, you doubted they would be disappointed for long. Besides, it's a group home, kids must come and go all the time. And you'd think the other kids would be glad to have one less person in the house. If you did stay, they could come to like you… or not.

I guess my decision has been made then.

~~~

You looked over Mary's bookshelf, grabbing one or two books that peaked your interest. It's always good to keep a memento from each house you stay in. You quickly stuff them into your backpack before zipping it closed and pulling it on. You grabbed your duffel before sliding the window all the way open and dropping it down to the ground. You pulled the window closed, not wanting Mary's room to get too cold.

Now, you just needed to sneak out the back door, grab the duffel, find a pay phone and get a hold of your social worker. Simple. There must be one outside a gas station somewhere, if not, you could just ask the gas station attendant if you could "call your parents". Easy.

You tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to miss the creaky step. As you snuck past the living room, you saw everyone was happily watching the tv which looked to be playing It's a Wonderful Life. You rolled your eyes before continuing towards the kitchen.

"Billy?" Someone called out from the living room.

You froze in front of the back door, waiting to hear the sound of them turning back to the tv.

"Must be hearing things," Victor said.

You sighed in relief before slowly twisting the lock, stopping whenever you made any sort of noise and listening for the living room. Once the door was unlocked, you opened the door as quietly as you could, knowing they most likely would be too wrapped up in their movie.

Once outside, you closed the door quickly and ran along the side of the house towards your duffel bag. You smiled at the sight of your Wonder Woman duffel lying peacefully in the snow. The lock on the gate put a small damper on your night, climbing the gate definitely wasn't on the agenda.

You grumbled to yourself as you dropped your bag on the other side of the gate before stepping on the post and carefully jumped over. Thank god it was winter and the snow broke your fall, or your butt would be in a lot more pain that it was in right now.

You quickly grabbed your duffel and took one last look up at the house. Maybe in another life, you thought, before starting down the street with a rough idea where the last gas station you saw was.

~~~

Billy landed just outside his window before yelling "Shazam!" and transforming back into his usual self.

He sighed as he opened the window and carefully climbed through. Billy pulled off his jacket and beanie before starting to change into his sweats and sleep shirt. Before he could pull on his shirt, Freddy burst into the room.

"Billy!" He yelled.

Billy screeched, covering his chest with his shirt. "Dude!"

"Sorry, it's just-" Freddy was interrupted.

Darla ran into the room. "Y/N is gone!" She cried out, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Yeah, she said she was going to her room to unpack but when Mary went to go check on her, she was gone." Freddy told him.

"Jeez, do Victor and Rosa know?" Billy asked, running his hands through his hair.

 "No, we were hoping to be able to convince her to come back before they find out." He tilted his head slightly.

"Uh, okay. Freddy, you and me will go find her while everyone else makes sure they don't know we're gone," Billy ordered. "Got that Darla?"

"Okay!" She sniffled before giving him a smile and running to tell her siblings of Billy's plan.

"Alright, let's go find her,"  Freddy nodded.

~~~

"Shit!" You yelled, hitting the phone booth with the base of your palm.

About ten blocks from the house, you found a gas station with a pay phone just outside. But, of course, with your luck, it was out of order and the gas station was closed.

You looked around the gas station for some kind of map, finding the last one in its slot. After unfolding it and getting your bearings, you spotted the park Rosa told you about. Only two blocks away. Perfect.

You refolded the map and replaced it in the slot, hoping someone else can find good use from it. Gripping tightly onto your duffel's shoulder strap, you start the trek to the park. 

It only took about ten minutes to get to the park, but you swore it felt longer. As you crossed the street, a car came speeding toward you. You ran to the sidewalk, narrowly dodging the car as it came to a screeching stop.

"Hey, watch it!" You yelled, kicking their tires before turning back and entering the park.

You glanced around at the empty park, glad to see no one else. You hurried to the closest bench and dusted off any snow or water before sitting down and opening your duffel. You pushed aside your hair brush and quickly pulled out your extra sweater and pulled it over your head. 

With one more look around the park, you put the duffel on the end of the bench and laid your head on it like a pillow. Allowing yourself to relax a little. Before you knew it, you were in a light sleep. Maybe you let yourself relax a little too much.

"I found her," a man in your dream stated.

Another man turned to you. "Cool, she has a Wonder Woman duffel bag!" He said.

"Dude, really?" The first one sighed.

You slowly opened your eyes, fully expecting to see police officers, or even hobos, but the last thing you experienced were two grown men in spandex next to you.

You screamed in shock, sitting up.

"Nice one, you woke her up!" The one in Blue punched the one in Red.

"Holy shit," you muttered, slowly grabbing your duffel bag.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We're here to help!" The red one held his hands up in defense.

Wait, aren't these the heroes who used to have people pay to take pictures with them? What was his name again? Captain Marvel or something? You quickly went for your backpack, grabbing whatever cash you had and held it out for them.

"Here, it's all I got," you tried to hand it to the one in Red.

"What? No, that's not why-" he tried to turn it down.

"Don't you have people pay you or whatever? Just take it and leave me alone," you tried to hand it to him again but he pushed your hand away.

"We don't want your money. We're here to take you home," Captain Marvel told you.

You stared at him as you put your money in your pocket. "Okay, yeah, I'm gonna go," you told them, grabbing your duffel, standing up, and quickly started walking away from the bench you had previously been sleeping on.

"Wait!" Freddy yelled, grabbing your arm. You pulled your arm away from him and backed away quickly.

"Stay away from me!" You yelled.

"Hold on, Y/N, just wait!" Billy tried, holding his hands up again.

You stopped, staring at the two heroes before you. "Do I... know you guys or something?" They felt oddly familiar.

Billy glanced back at his brother. "No, you don't. We were, uh, sent…by your family to come find you."

"Okay, now I know you guys are lying cause I don't have a family. See yah!" You waved, turning to leave yet again.

The two heroes quickly joined you, one on each of your sides.

"Listen, Y/N, the group home you are staying at has people in it who care what happens to you." Freddy tried to meet your eye.

"Yeah, that's why I left the way I did," you muttered, the gears turning in your head as you tried to figure out why these heroes are doing house calls. "Wait, did they call you or something to come find me? How in the hell do they have your number?" 

Billy stood unsure of what to say, looking to Freddy for support, only to find him to have the same reaction.

"Whatever, doesn't matter," you muttered, continuing down the street.

Freddy quickly snapped out of his trance and joined you again. "What did you mean by that's why you're leaving?"

You sighed, "Look, they're a great family, don't get me wrong. It's just that there are eight people in one house, always in each others spaces- I mean, I barely could fit at the table with the rest of them. And I just think if I were to stay I would just be invading their home and what little space they have left."

Billy let out a small laugh, "You know things can be changed around to accommodate everyone."

"I don't want them to change for me. They are one perfect unit and I don't want them to have to change that." You looked around the street for another pay phone or gas station. "Not to mention they gave up their 'welcome' act pretty quickly."

"The 'welcome' act?" Billy proded, feeling like Freddy and him were getting closer to a point where they can soon convince you to come home.

"Yeah, you know, the 'we-don't-really-feel-comfortable-with-you-here-but-we-have-to-be-nice-and-welcoming' act. You should have seen them when I came downstairs for a drink of water and Rosa asked if I wanted to join them. They all got super uncomfortable, glancing at each other, and looking everywhere but me. Trust me, I can tell when I'm not wanted," You glared down at the sidewalk, getting kind of tired of explaining yourself to two weirdos in tights.

"So what's your plan?" Freddy asked. "Live on the street instead of a nice home with a good family? I seriously doubt that they don't want you there."

"Look man, if I called every place I lived at my family or home, the meaning would be lost pretty fast," You tried to walk faster away from the two, who you were now questioning to even be real heros at all, "And no, I wasn't planning to live on the street. I was going to call my social worker. I didn't call her at the house because I didn't want to see Rosa and Victor's disappointed faces and make me feel guilty."

"Ugh, I hated my social worker," Freddy muttered without thinking.

Billy shot him a look, "Dude, shut up!"

You stopped, turning on your heels to look at the two grown men. They sound so familiar but you just couldn't put a finger on it. They both had basic, dark brown hair, although the one in blue's hair was a but more curly. They had no memorable features, only their personalities. They argued just like-

"Do I know you guys?" You asked carefully. "You feel so familiar."

"N-no! Of course not, we're just two adult men here to take you home!" The red one said hesitantly. "B-but not in a creepy way!"

"Alright, one question. Who's your favorite superhero?"

"Superman." Freddy answered on reflex.

Both heroes' eyes grew.

"Dude!" Billy yelled.

Freddy flinched. "Sorry! It's a reflex!" 

You took a small step backwards. Your small test had worked but now you have no clue what to do.

"Freddy? Is-is that you?" You asked quietly.

Billy shook his head, "N-no, you're mistaken! He-"

You gasped, "Billy?!"

The two boys groaned, unsure what to do now that the secret was out.

"Oh my god! How the hell-? What-? Do the others know?!" You stammered out.

"They're kind of superheroes too," Freddy told you, rubbing the back of his neck.

You felt as if the air was knocked out of you. Everyone in the house is a superhero, besides Rosa and Victor. You were living with heros for the past 5 hours. Wait... they all rushed upstairs after they saw the runaway train on tv. They were doing hero stuff, not excluding you on purpose.

You felt yourself begin to laugh. So many emotions were running around in your head, you had a difficult time sorting through it. You laughed harder as you tried to think about the situation you were in.

"Y/N?" One of the boys called to you.

Cold tears started to run down your cheeks. You laughed a bit more as you took a seat on the snow covered sidewalk, trying to calm down.

"Are you alright?" Billy asked, kneeling down next to you.

"Y-yeah," you giggled before you finally stopped laughing, "I just found out that the two men who have been following me around, asking all these questions are two of the guys in my group home! Trust me, I feel a lot better knowing it is you guys and not just two creeps!"

You looked the two up and down, now seeing Billy and Freddy through the two grown men in spandex.

"Can you change back or are you stuck like that?" You asked, crossing your legs and resting your head in your hand.

"Oh, yeah, uh- one second!" Freddy smiled at you.

"Shazam!" They yelled, lightning flashing through the sky and hitting them.

You let out a scream, covering your head. After a few seconds, you slowly lifted your head and saw Billy and Freddy as their normal selves, Freddy using Billy as his crutch.

"Holy shit!" You muttered.

"So, are you gonna come home or not?" Freddy finally asked after a moment of silence.

Did you really want to go back? Most of the problems you had were just explained and the only problems left were not worth leaving over. Victor and Rosa have been welcoming all day, everyone else was just trying to keep their Super secret, Freddy and Billy had come looking for you, which no one has ever done before, and even told you their secret, and... you really didn't want to leave. Not now, not then, and definitely not in any future.

"Yeah..." you said, barely above a whisper. You pushed yourself off the ground, smiling as you stood next to the two boys. "Let's go home."

~~~

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