#and look. i could not give less shits about what someone chooses to smoke in their freetime | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

guess-my-next-obsession · 17 days

Text

Guilty as Sin? — Chapter Five

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, professor/student dynamic, oral (fem!rec), mutual masturbation, lots of ogling, romantic Javi will be the death of me, dirty talk, little bit of angst thrown in, reader's never experienced oral, think that's it for now

word count: 4k

series masterlist

You didn’t attend Dr. Peña’s office hours that day, too exhausted by your crumbling social life to deal with whatever it was he wanted to talk about with you in private. Instead, you spent the night grocery shopping, decorating your new place, and getting a jump start on Dr. Arman’s research paper due in a few weeks.

By the time you were in bed and began to mindlessly scroll on your phone, it was nearing midnight. As you scrolled through pinterest finding sad quote after sad quote to make your sadness feel a little less isolating, an email notification lit up your screen. You clicked on it, finding a message from Dr. Peña.

Please set up an appointment with me to discuss your grade.

Dr. Javier Peña

jpeñ[email protected]

555-268-8521

You narrowed your brows at the message—what was he talking about? You quickly opened the online portal to check your grade, finding it in near-perfect standing. Flipping back to the email, you read it over again before locking eyes on his phone number, bolded in bright red. Chuckling at his use of coded messaging, you copied the number and added it to your contacts as Javier just in case someone decided to snoop around.

Biting your lip, you let your fingers hover over your keyboard, unsure of what to say, or if he even wanted you to message him. But he had to, right? No one highlighted shit in red if they didn’t mean to draw attention.

You settled on something simple, something that couldn’t possibly be misconstrued if an outside party were to see it.

You: Hey, it’s…

You: You emailed about setting up an appointment?

You waited what felt like a lifetime, choosing to spend those torturous minutes anxiously scrolling through your feed until your phone buzzed with an alert.

Javier: So formal.

You rolled your eyes.

Javier: Why didn’t you show up today?

You: Too tired.

Javier: You still tired?

You bit your lip as his words sent a thrilling ache between your thighs.

You: Depends.

Javier responded only with an address, one that looked to be attached to an apartment complex in the nice part of town. With your heart racing with excitement and head screaming with caution, you decided that you’d earned a bit of recklessness. You’d done everything you needed to do today, so why not do something you wanted to do?

You thanked the skies for convincing you to pamper yourself earlier with an everything shower as you slipped into a much less comfy pair of underwear, choosing to keep your hoodie and leggings on rather than dressing to impress. After all, there was a good chance your hopes would come crashing down if he truly only meant to talk.

The drive to his place was spent singing along to your favorite album, hoping to drown out the alarm sounds in your head that seemed to scream, idiot!

You pulled into the gated complex, punching in the code he’d sent to you before making your way through the gates. You parked your beat up car in a visitor spot, headlights illuminating a man smoking a cigarette in that black leather jacket you could still feel wrapped around your shoulders. Javier.

He watched you as you climbed out of the car, hands trembling with nerves.

“Hey,” you breathed, giving him a nervous smile. Javier’s smile was a lot more confident, causing a dimple to form in his left cheek.

“Hey,” he replied, ashing out the cigarette on the trash can beside him before approaching you. “You look cozy. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Should I take that as an insult?” you joked.

“No,” he assured, his smile softening to something so affectionate it made your heart race. “I like you like this.”

You flushed, dropping your eyes to the pavement beneath your feet. Javier surprised you by lifting his hand to your chin, gently guiding your eyes back to his. “This isn’t a good idea,” he husked, eyes bouncing back and forth between yours. “But fuck me, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your lips parted as he stepped closer, his hand shifting to cradle your cheek, his thumb stroking across your skin.

“But first, I wanted to introduce you to someone,” he said, letting his hand fall to his side. Tipping his head in the direction of the lobby, he urged you to follow him.

Who the fuck did he possibly want to introduce you to? His secret family?

Javier opened the door with a smug look, furthering your confusion until the old woman—who looked around the age of seventy—behind the front desk popped up with a smile.

“I didn’t see you sneak out, Javi,” she smiled, batting her eyes at him. “You got a secret exit I don’t know about, honey?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, Jeannie, now would it be?” he crooned, turning to you. “This was the friend of mine I wanted to introduce you to. She’s run the complex for how long now, Jeannie?”

“Thirty years,” she replied, both pride and exhaustion in her tone. “Thirty years and no goddamn retirement in sight.”

You gaped at Javier, his brow raising and smirk spreading into a full on dimpled-grin. Quickly turning to Jeannie, you chuckled and shook your head at yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jeannie,” you smiled, giving her your name.

“You too, sweetie,” she said. “Y’all have a good night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not saying much, Jeannie,” Javier teased, resting his hand on your back as he guided you to the elevator.

You kept quiet until you were inside the privacy of those four walls. “So you finally figured it out.”

“Well, I figured it out when you slammed my car door on me,” he chuckled, standing close enough for you to smell his cologne. You stepped closer to that scent of warmth and comfort, brushing your arm against his. “Thought I’d clear the air this way since you stood me up earlier.”

“I didn’t stand you up,” you laughed. “I just…I don’t know. Needed some time away from everything.”

He hummed his response, waiting for the bell to chime, signaling your arrival to the third floor, before leading you out and down the hall to his apartment. As he put his key in the lock, he turned to you with a half-smile. “You sure you want this?”

“Depends on what this is,” you replied. Javier smiled, shaking his head before opening the door to his place. He let you walk in ahead of him, the door shutting and locking behind him.

“This is…I don’t know,” he sighed, though it sounded less like frustration but more along the lines of hesitant acceptance. “Me throwing caution to the wind, I guess.”

“Just you?” you asked, turning away from the black and brown abstract painting on the wall of his living room to look at him over your shoulder. He looked at you with such unabashed desire as he carefully stepped into your space until his chest was nearly pressed against your back.

“Us, then,” he whispered, slowly dragging his fingertips up the length of your arm, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. Your breath hitched as he leaned in to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. “Do you know how much space in my mind you’ve taken up? Without doing anything more than existing.”

You turned to face him, your hands settling on his chest before sliding up to the nape of his neck. Javier’s brow furrowed as he watched you study his features, committing each one to memory in case tonight was all you’d ever have with him. “Only seems fair that I’m on your mind as much as you’re on mine.”

Javier groaned softly, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards, sandwiching you between his body and the back of his sectional.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, licking his lips as his eyes fell to yours. “These fucking lips that’ve been calling my name since the first time I saw you.”

You let out a soft breath, nodding your head quickly, as if he’d change his mind if you didn’t reply quick enough. Javier smiled, something fleeting and rooted in affection before crashing his lips against yours. You moaned at the taste of cinnamon blended with a hint of the cigarette he’d been smoking when you pulled into the parking lot.

What started out as cautious quickly turned into something needy, his hands gripping your hips to pull you closer to his frame. You gasped into his mouth as he pressed his generous arousal against you, your center aching to feel him without the layers between you.

“Javi,” you panted out the nickname, relishing in the groan it elicited. Javier was quick to pull away, his dark eyes lust blown and wild as he lifted a hand to your face.

“What do you want, cariño?” he rasped, smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip as though to worship it. “Hm?”

It took you a few seconds to register what he’d said, your mind preoccupied with fantasy after fantasy that finally felt possible.

“You,” you replied, soft and breathy. “Your lips, your tongue, your fingers, your…”

“My what?” he coaxed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Lowering your hand down his chest and stomach, you let your palm rest against his arousal, giving him a gentle squeeze that made him curse. “This. This is what I want.”

“Fuck me,” he swore, taking a step away from you before entering a pace. He raked his hand across his face as he seemed to mull things over, meanwhile you were left standing there, panting like an idiot while replaying the interaction in your head.

Was it your touch that spooked him? Oh god, did he not want to be touched? Perhaps you were no better than Derrick, so blinded by desire and longing that you acted before asking.

“Javi, I—“

“If we do this,” he started, stilling his pacing to give you a stern look. “It’s a one time thing. You and I will go about our lives as normal. You can continue to TA for me if you want, or I can try to transfer you to another professor.”

“I don’t want that,” you blurted, too lost in lust to think clearly. “One time. Get it out of our systems.”

Javier chuckled, as if he had foresight into how this all played out. He could’ve seen a happy ending, the two of you reminiscing on this very moment, laughing at the idiots you once were to ever think for a minute it would only be a one time thing. Or, more realistically, he imagined the two of you awkwardly dealing with the existence of the other with forced greetings and a hidden longing that felt more like a haunting.

Whatever scene he saw, it didn’t prevent him from sauntering back to you, from kissing you like a sailor greeting his wife after being away at sea for years, from guiding you into his bedroom, and you didn’t dare break the magic of the moment by asking.

Javier backed you against the wall, his thigh slotting between yours. His lips traveled the line of your neck, teeth grazing across your racing pulse only to soothe over the tender flesh with his tongue.

“If you knew the things I’ve imagined…” His words trailed off into a dark chuckle as his hands slid up your side to cup your breast through your shirt. He groaned at the lack of a bra, his hips pressing into yours as he swiped his thumb across your peaked nipple. “You proud that you’ve broken a good, honorable man? That the sight of you in those fucking skirts made me insane enough to consider fucking you right on my desk?”

“Sort of,” you admitted, earning a genuine laugh. You smiled at him as he pulled back, lifting his hand to hold your face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The way he looked at you almost made your heart stop. You’d never been looked at like that before, with respect, affection, and genuine interest. It had only been lust before this, or worse, pity. The girl who stayed loyal, who allowed a man to walk all over her for years on end.

“Just admiring,” he shrugged, giving you a casual purse of his lips. “Clever, brave, resilient, and so fucking beautiful it hurts.”

You couldn’t take hearing anything that sincere from him, not when it was all you ever wanted to hear, not when you knew it would all be over tomorrow. You tugged him back in for a kiss, hastily shedding his jacket in the process. Javier moaned into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other hoisting your thigh over his hip.

You moved on to the buttons of his shirt as he mouthed his way down your neck to your chest, his greedy hands palming every soft bit of flesh he could find.

“Take this off,” you demanded, your fingers too shaky to unfasten the buttons. Javier pulled away from you to do just that, his chin nudging at you as if to say, you too. You peeled off your hoodie, earning a groan from Javier as he unbuckled his belt, his eyes eating up the sight of your bare breasts. “Fuck me, you’d turn Christ himself into a sinner.”

You ignored the butterflies his praises stirred in your belly as you peeled off your leggings and underwear in one fluid motion, leaving you completely bare—and for once in your life, confident—in front of him. Javier abandoned undoing the button of his jeans in favor for coming back to you, both hands cradling your face as he backed you against the wall again.

“One night,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “We’ll fucking see.”

You slid your hand down his stomach to the button of his jeans, undoing it with only a little bit of trouble. Javier’s lips never left yours as you tugged the zipper down before slipping your hand inside. You both moaned at the feeling of your hand meeting his bare flesh, swallowing down the sounds of mutual pleasure.

God, he was big. Bigger than anyone you’d ever been with before.

“You’re going to ruin me for all men,” you purred into the air as he focused his lips, teeth, and tongue on your pulse again, your hand slowly pumping his shaft as best as you could given the way his body was pressing you into the wall.

“I’ve always been an overachiever,” he replied, his smirk growing against your skin as he placed one last soft kiss against your pulse before kneeling down in front of you. You kept your eyes locked on his as he guided your calf to rest over his shoulder, his lips pressing their way up the inside of your leg.

This was better than your favorite fantasy. It hadn’t managed to get the brown of his eyes, the rough warmth of his hands, the sinful scrape of his mustache across your soft skin right. In fact, now that you were witness to the real thing, the fantasy seemed like nothing more than a cheap knock-off.

“Javi,” you cautioned, remembering one critical detail about the fantasy. The fact that you’d never actually had this done to you before. All the sex and sin you’d gotten up to in your life, but never this. Selfish fucking men.

“What,” he hummed lazily against your skin, now kissing your inner thigh.

“You don’t have to,” you replied, nothing more than a whisper. Javier shook his head at you, gently nipping at your sensitive flesh.

“Don’t have to, but fuck me, I want to,” he rasped, lathing his tongue over where he’d just given you a lovebite. You gently raked your hand through his hair, bringing his eyes away from your aching center and back to yours.

“I’ve had this exact fantasy since the first day of class,” you admitted, biting your lip. “It’s been my favorite thing to think about when I touch myself.”

Javier groaned, desperate and wrecked.

“Can you make it as good as my fantasy?” you asked, your voice a seductive purr.

There was something about this—Javier on his knees, practically begging to taste you—that felt so much more empowering than you’d ever felt before with a sexual partner. How you’d ever go back to more age appropriate men, you weren’t sure.

“You’re…” He cut himself off, shaking his head before leaning closer to where you practically dripped with need. “I’ll give you something real to fantasize about when you touch yourself, cariño.”

You smiled at the promise, only for it to fall as your jaw went slack at the feeling of Javier’s tongue licking a broad stripe up your seam. You furrowed your brows as you looked down to watch him, his eyes closed as he tugged you closer to his mouth. His tongue swirled around your bud, over and over, making you pulse with each passing swirl. You gripped onto his hair to keep him there, guiding him as his tongue dipped lower to your entrance to drink up your arousal with a sinful groan.

“So fucking sweet,” he praised, pulling back to marvel at your swollen pussy with a look of awe. “I need you on the bed.”

You nodded, springing into action and practically leaping into his king-sized mattress. You crawled back on your elbows until you reached the pillows, watching as Javier finally kicked off his jeans, finally taking in the full sight of his cock. You actually began to salivate at the sight of him, long and thick and angry with need.

He stood at the edge of the bed, eyes locked on you as he stroked himself with his fist. You slipped your hand down to your clit, rubbing it in time with his lazy strokes, and quickly realized you could get off from this alone.

“That’s it,” he husked. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.”

You moaned, slipping your fingers lower to curl inside yourself. There was something so holy about this sinful act. The way he watched you, the worship and reverence in his stare as you got off to the sight of him getting off to the sight of you. All of it was holy, and all of it was forbidden.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, the words causing you to pulse around your fingers.

Javier seemed to have gotten his fill of watching as he climbed onto the bed, making himself at home between your thighs. You slipped your fingers out and moved to law them to the side, but he stopped you, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean while you watched him with a slack jaw.

“Fuck,” you moaned, brows pinching together. Javier kissed the inside of your palm before setting it down against his cool sheets.

“Is this how you imagined it?” he asked, kissing your inner thigh.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, combing back the waves that had fallen across his forehead. Javier keened under your touch as he inched his way back to your center. Locking his eyes with yours, you watched him turn your fantasies into reality—those brown eyes finally meeting yours just as you’d imagined.

“You taste so good,” he praised, bringing two fingers up to stroke up and down your seam before dipping into your entrance. He met your eyes in a silent confirmation of consent. You nodded eagerly, biting your lip as you tried to steady your breathing.

Javier let out a soft sigh as he slipped his fingers inside of you, curling them up to press against the spot no man had ever been able to locate before. You moaned, your head falling back against his pillows as he paired his tongue with the perfectly timed thrust of his fingers.

“Fuck,” you whined, holding him close as he started to suck on your swollen bud, his fingers curling in and out with almost embarrassing ease as you neared your end—the first one you’d ever shared with a sexual partner. “Javi, fuck. You’re gonna make me come.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating against you as he doubled down in his efforts. Your thighs shook, your face crumpled in ecstasy as the thread of tension inside you finally snapped. Javier kept your thighs spread as they threatened to close around his head, his tongue turning gentle as he coaxed you back to earth.

“That’s the first time someone’s ever made me come,” you panted, guiding him up for a dizzying kiss that tasted of your arousal. Javier’s hands gripped at your hip, guiding your leg to wrap around his waist.

“Fucking idiots,” he sighed, pressing a kiss over your racing heartbeat. “Their loss.”

You nodded in agreement, your hand cradling the sharp line of his jaw as he focused his mouth on your breast. “I’d…be down for another.”

He laughed, resting his head on your chest.

“As much as I want to, I think maybe it would be best if we just…didn’t,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes. You tried not to pout, to demand that he take as much as he just gave, but all you could do was give him a soft nod. “I want to, believe me. But it would just—“

“Make things more complicated,” you guessed, unable to look him in the eye. “I know.”

He tutted at you, turning your chin so that you were forced to face him. “I loved tonight, loved doing this with you. Under any other circumstance, I’d be happy to keep you in this bed for days, but—“

“It’s okay,” you managed, giving him a sad smile. “I’m glad we had this, at least.”

He nodded, resting his head against your chest again.

“I should go,” you said, the lump in your throat roughening the sound of your voice.

“You don’t have to,” he replied, placing a tender kiss to your chest.

“I know, but…it’s torture staying,” you confessed, trying your best not to cry. “Like flaunting food in front of someone starving.”

Javier sat back on his knees, smoothing his palms up and down your still-spread thighs. “I’m not…trying to torture you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Still, it’s…”

“Yeah,” he agreed on the unspoken. “It is.”

You let out a huff of a chuckle, hoping it would mask the ache in your chest threatening to consume you. “Guess I’ll see you in class, then?”

“Front and center, I hope,” he smiled, backing off the bed to give you space to get up and get dressed. “And no skirts, for Christ’s sake.”

“Mm, suddenly skirts are all I own,” you joked, shooting him a more genuine smile from over your shoulder as you slipped into your leggings.

“Cruel woman,” he chided playfully, watching you from his seat at the foot of the bed. “Cruel, beautiful woman.”

After Javier led you out of the building through the back exit to avoid Jeannie, you bid him an awkward farewell, holding in your tears until you were in your car. You spent the commute from his place to yours sobbing over a man you could never have, one that was everything you ever wanted. You made a pit stop at a gas station to buy some comfort snacks and an ice-ee in hopes of soothing the ache in your chest, but the truth was there was no escaping the impact of Javier Peña on your soft, longing heart.

You only hoped the recovery would be quick, the wound of losing him before you ever had him fading into an almost unnoticeable scar on your heart.

#guilty as sin?#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi peña #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier peña fic #javier peña fluff #javier pena fluff

267 notes · View notes

albertasunrise · 1 year

Text

Stuck in the Middle of it - Part 7

Masterlist

Summary: Years after breaking up, you bump into Benny Miller again one evening at a bar. He was one man you could confidently say you had loved once but you’d both agreed you were better off as friends. When he introduces you to Frankie Morales, you instantly feel connected to the man but unbeknownst to you… You’ll get thrown into a love triangle. The two men crazy about you. Only thing is… you have no idea who to choose.

Relationships: Reader x Ben Miller, Reader x Frankie Morales

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any warnings. This will be an 18+ fic

Series Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

War is hell.

You hear it in movies. Read it in books. Nothing can prepare you for the reality of that statement. In the movies though, they make it look so much less hellish than it actually is. War is grown men crying out for their mothers as they lat there desperately trying to hold their guts in. It’s them pissing themselves in fear. Shitting their pants when their life force leaves them.

Their reality right then was what Frank imagined hell to be like.

Bullets seemed to rain down on them left, right and centre. Smoke, ash and fire littered the sky as Frankie tried to steer them out of the line of fire. If anyone had told him that war could be this chaotic before he’d enlisted, he would have never done it. Fear coursed throughout him as he glanced at his co-pilot who had all but lost his nerve. The man was sobbing as he fumbled with the controls but in truth, Frankie was the only one in control. It was his job to get his broths home. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He barely heard the bullet pierce the glass. His partner's limp body was what alerted him to the fact that had been hit.

“SHIT.” He yelled as he glanced at his dead comrade.

“What's going on?” Demanded Tom but it took Fish a moment to answer “CATFISH??”

“Mullins is down.” He answered, his voice shaking as he spoke.

“What?” Blurted out Santi “How the-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Next thing they all know, the was a boom and suddenly they were spiralling towards the ground but Fish being the pilot he was, managed to slow their descent.

“Prepare for a crash landing.” He yelled over the comes, straining to keep the bird as steady as he could.

Everyone strapped themselves in and braced themselves for what was to come. The craft was almost at ninety degrees as it plummeted toward the ashen battleground but as they edged closer, Frankie made a manoeuvre that he knew would likely spare his brother’s. But not him.

He said a silent prayer as he watched the ground come up to greet him and then as the bird connected with the earth, they were met with the deafening sound of metal buckling and glass shattering.

Then everything went black.

…

Ben blinked a few times as his head cleared. He could hear someone shouting but the ringing in his ears made it sound muffled and far away. Lifting his head, he noted his brother was calling to him from his seat in the chopper and as things cleared more, he realised it was his brother who was shouting. He then started to look around the rest of the craft and noted that Tom and Santi were also coming around, both looking a little knocked around but otherwise okay.

The smoke hit him next and that's what pulled him back to earth with a bang. Unbuckling his restraints he, along with his brother started to urge the others out but when Ben looked into the cockpit his stomach sank. Mullins lay there, eyes open with a bullet hole to the head and Ben let out a choked sob. He had been the newest member of the team, joining a little over a month ago and he had fit in with ease. Ben then turned his head to see Catfish slumped in his seat. Blook coated one side of his face and his uniform was quickly turning black as blood seeped from the gaping wound to his belly.

"FISH." He yelled as he clambered his way to him "Fuck." Ben choked as he took in the state his comrade was in.

"Ben." Frankie moaned, his eyes cracking open a little.

"I'm here Fish." Ben said gently "I'm gonna get you out brother. I promise you."

"BEN?" Called Tom as he made his way to wear the younger Miller was gently unfastening Frank's restraints "Evac is 5 minutes out." He stated as he took in Fish's condition.

"Tell them they need to get a medical chopper ready. Contusion to the lower left quadrant and a severe head injury." Ben stated, his voice never wavering.

"Copy that." Tom nodded before he head out to make the call.

"Right Fish, this is gonna hurt buddy so I'm sorry." The younger man stated as placed his hands underneath the man's armpits "Okay on three... One... Two... Three."

He pulled Frankie so his top half was towards the entrance to the cockpit, the pilot letting out a guttural scream that made Ben's blood turn to ice in his vanes. In any other situation, there would be a team of people that would be able to cut him out and get him to safety. Now though, they were in hell on earth so no such luxuries could be found.

When Frankie was in position, Ben supported his top half with one arm as he slid his other under the pilot's legs and lifted him, ignoring the pained cries this elicited. Frank's usual golden tone skin had turned a sickly shade of white and a thin layer of sweat glittered on his brow.

He was going into shock.

Ben wasn't an expert on field medicine. That had been Will's area of expertise but he knew enough to know that Fish was in some deep trouble. He needed to get the pilot out and get him stabilised if the man had any chance of making it out of this.

The blonde breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to get them out of the ruined craft and out into the hot, humid air beyond. Tom and Santi had already assembled the stretcher that had been stored in the rear of the craft and Will was prepping what he'd need to get Fish ready to move.

Ben gently placed his brother in arms down on the stretcher before taking his hand and whispering words of comfort as Will started to assess his condition. The younger Miller looked up at his brother and noted the grim expression on his face. He was stupid. He knew that Frank's chances weren't good but he'd be damned if he didn't do everything he could to save him.

After all, he'd done exactly that for all of them.

Ben held Frankie's hand and stroked his hair with the other as the group of them waited for the evac to arrive. They had crashed a fair distance from the active battle and for that they were grateful. They all knew that everything about how and where they crashed was deliberate. Catfish's last attempt to try and get them back safely, even if that didn't include him.

He was selfless to a fault.

When the transport arrived, Ben remained at his friend's side. He talked to him, held his hand and even wiped his tears as the vehicle drove them back to base as quickly as it could.

What felt like hours passed before they were finally within the manned fences of their base. Safe at last but none of them had much time to breathe before they were all whisked off for medical attention.

That was the last mission they ever did.

Standing in front of the mirror, Frankie's fingers traced the silver scar on his stomach. He had been in a coma for two weeks after the crash. The glass shard had pierced his bowel and after hours of surgery, he went on to develop an infection that almost killed him. His doctors told him he'd flatlined twice whilst in his coma. Once in front of Ben when he'd come to visit.

He'd always been grateful that the younger Miller had saved him that day. He'd been ready to die that day but Benny Miller was stubborn and there had been no way he was going to the man clock out. Through tragedy had come a friendship that he'd always thought would be unbreakable and yet everything that had transpired in the last year proved that to be wrong.

"Frankie, you okay?" Came your voice from the other side of the door, a soft knock echoing through the room.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a moment." He replied as he grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

You were pouring coffee into two mugs when he emerged into the kitchen. Autumn was strapped to your chest as you floated around the kitchen with ease. You had taken to motherhood like a fish to water. It suited you and you revelled in it.

Autumn had proved to be the ideal first child. She hardly cried except to let you know she was hungry and already at two weeks she was sleeping most of the night. He smiled as he watched you pour creamer into both mugs as you hummed along to the radio, bouncing a little as you went.

His heart swelled as he watched you place a soft kiss on the crown of Autumn's head and he ached to hold you.

"Morning." The new voice made Frankie jump back as if caught doing something he shouldn't "There are my two favourite ladies."

Ben gave you a sweet kiss before leaning down to peck Autumn's cheek and Frank felt a surge of jealousy run through him. It should be him in that picture.

“How you feelin’ this morning Fishsticks?” Asked Ben, pulling the older man out of his thoughts.

“Little stronger.” Frankie replied, giving the man a weak smile before his gaze drifted to you.

He frowned at the expression he saw but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared and then you were unstrapping the baby.

“You want to take her for a while?” You asked and he nodded, taking her eagerly from your arms.

“Morning princessa.” He cooed as she looked up at him with her big eyes.

“Papiiiii.” Screeched Isla as she waddled into the room “Look what I drew.” She exclaimed as she waved some paper above her head with one hand and clung a crayon in the other.

Frank crouched so he could look, gasping as he studied it a moment “Wow, mi corazónc. Esto es increíble.” (Wow, my heart. This is amazing.)

“Gracias, Papi.” She replied bashfully and Frankie smiled.

“I was thinking we could take the girls to the aquarium today.” You stated, grabbing Frank’s attention “Ben’s got to work today so I thought it would be nice for us to do something as a family… You know, if you want to and you’re feeling up to it or whatever.”

“Sounds great.” Frankie replied, smiling sweetly at your nervousness.

“Great, well… I will see you later.” Said Ben as he pulled you in for a kiss “Have fun.” He finished before pulling away. Giving Frankie’s arm a friendly pat and affectionately pinching the apple of Autumn’s cheek.

An awkward silence settled over the kitchen then as Ben left. Frank had been staying with you and Ben since leaving the hospital a week ago. He wasn’t sure how things had ended up this way. The day he’d woken up, you’d kissed him. Gave him hope that perhaps you wanted to try again.

You were sitting at Frankie's bedside, nursing Autumn when the man stirred again. For the past few days, this was how you'd spent your time. Frank was in and out of it but the doctors had told you that he would be for a while, It was hard work waking up. Each time he was conscious though, he seemed to be a little more with it. His eyes shone for Autumn every chance he got a chance to hold her.

Isla had been brought every day also. Sitting with her dad on the bed and telling him about her day with Uncle Will or at playschool. He'd then talk to you for hours about anything and everything but the one thing that wasn't broached... The kiss.

You'd not really seen or spoken to Ben the last few days. Whether he was avoiding you or you just kept missing each other you didn't know. What you did know was that your guilt was eating you alive. His expression when he told you he'd seen you kiss Frankie had haunted your dreams. Played on repeat every moment you weren't distracted by your baby.

Frankie was looking at you differently too. His expression was warm and welcoming every time he saw you. He talked about all the things he wanted to do as a family. Day trips, vacations, all of them including you and excluding Ben.

You wanted the decision to be made for you. You hated how hard it was to choose between the two of them. Because, despite what he did, you loved Ben and he had proved a hundred times over that he loved you too.

But you loved Frankie also.

When you'd learned that it had been because of Ben that he'd broken your heart, all the anger you held towards him died away. You felt nothing but love and admiration for him and the fact you two shared a child together just made those feelings all the more intense.

But you had just spent the better part of a year with Ben. Building a life with him, a home. Were you willing to lose that to try and be a family with Frankie? What if it didn't work out? You'd end up alone. Just you and Autumn. The idea hurt.

This decision was going to mean you lost one of them anyway. You just couldn't bear the idea of being without either of them.

You smiled as you watched Autumn gaze up at the fish in Amazement. Her eyes were the size of planets as she watched the sharks swim overhead as you walked through the tunnel and when she watched the jellyfish as they glowed and danced in their tanks.

Isla had your hand and dragged you to each of the exhibits she wanted to see, demanding you pick her up when she couldn't see.

"Mummy look." Said Isla as she pointed at a sea turtle that swam overhead, seemingly unaware of what she'd just called you.

You and Frankie however were frozen to the spot. A small smile crossed his lips as he watched his daughter tug on your sleeve, pointing at another of the magnificent creatures as it swam over them. His eyes then drifted to you and his stomach dropped. He was at your side in a heartbeat, cupping your cheek in an attempt to get you to look at him.

"Hermosa I'm sorry." He said in a panicky tone, his heart in his throat "She's just a toddler, she doesn't know what she's saying."

"Mummy?" Isla pipped up, her little face scrunching in concern "Why are you crying?"

You choked on a sob before you picked the toddler up and pulled her close, smiling when she placed a kiss on your cheek.

"I'm not sad sweety." You assured her "Why are you calling me mummy sweetheart?" You ask and she gives you a look as if it was obvious.

"You and daddy made Autumn together." She stated matter of factly "She's my sister which makes you my mummy."

'Sweetheart it-"

"If you want me to be your mummy then I would be honoured." You piped up, cutting Frankie off in his tracks.

"I do." She said, nodding with surety and you smiled sweetly at her.

"Okay." You whispered.

The four of you then resumed your trip. Frankie watched you closely as you walked hand in hand with his oldest. Truth be told, he'd hoped that Isla would look at you as a mother one day but that had been when you were together and he could picture your future together.

Now he wasn't so sure how that future would look. Would you let him have Autumn for more than just the weekends? Would the two of you be parents that got on or would you grow to despise him?

"Penny for your thoughts?" You piped up, pulling Frankie from his own head "You were miles away there." You chuckled and he gave you a small smile as he shook his head.

"Sorry I was just... Stuck in my thoughts I guess."

"About?"

"Us." He confessed honestly "How all this is going to work."

"I know what you mean." You replied, your head dropping and suddenly your shoes were the most interesting thing in the room.

"We'll make it work." He piped up, leading the way to the gift shop where Isla was already busy picking out what stuffed fish she wanted.

After paying silly money for a stuffed turtle of Isla and a plush octopus for Autumn, you all decided to stop for a coffee before you headed back. Frank say with Autumn on his lap as he sipped at his coffee and you beside Isla as she babbled away in her highchair.

"Why did you kiss me?" Frankie said suddenly and you startled at it.

"What?"

"In the hospital, the day I woke up, you kissed me." He stated, his eyes drifting to you and you shrunk in your seat under his gaze "You gave me hope that maybe we'd get to be a proper family and then you stay with Ben.

"Frankie I-"

"I know he told you to choose." He interrupted, eyes now fixed on Autumn "I love you. We have a baby together. Don't you think it's worth trying to see if we'd work?"

"Frank, this isn't really the best time to talk about-"

"So when is?" He pushed "When Ben's there to hog your attention and cloud your judgement?"

You were shocked at his bold statement but you knew there was an air of truth to it. You had gone four days before Ben had reappeared all sweetness and kissed and you'd allowed yourself to fall back into that familiar feeling.

"I can't keep sitting there, watching him play house with my family." He stated plainly and you nodded "So I want you to make a decision."

"Frankie." You pleaded but he shook his head.

"I love you. When we were together, I started to picture our future together. We'd get married, have a few kids, and have a dog. Take trips together. I still want all of that with you but I'm not going to wait for you forever."

"What if we don't work?" You asked, your voice shaking "We might crash and burn and then what?"

"We might not." Frankie stated plainly "And I'm inclined to believe that we won't... Because I can and want to give you everything you've ever dreamt of but I'm not sure Ben truly does."

"But he said he's all in."

"But what does that mean?" He asked and you were left without a retort.

Because he was right... What did that mean?

Taglist form

Tags: @hayley-the-comet @ajeff855 @mavericksicybabe @supernaturalgirl20 @dihra-vesa @nicolethered @practicalghost @theanothersherlockian @gallowsjoker @little-mrs-morales @sunnshineeexoxo @aliwritesfic @maryfanson @sherala007 @ayrusss @greeneyedblondie44 @elegantduckturtle @jediknight122 @goodgriefitsawildworld @voteforpedro09 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @mishasminion360 @snacswell @giggly-otter @athalien @mssbridgerton @huitzilinthebudgie3 @samanthacookieone @salome-c @radcollectivesoul @pedrohoe04 @paintlavillered @ktmadden86 @hotchlover @kirsteng42 @djjarins @balekanemohafe @misscampacyn @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @pedromandoverse @destiny-tsukino @mysun-n-stars @tombraider42017 @littlemisspascal @thatpinkshirt @evyiione @girlofchaos @vanemando15

88 notes · View notes

blackberry-gingham · 2 years

Text

Murdoc Niccals x Fem!Reader

Chpt 1 | Next >

Summary:

It's hard being an angry young man when you're over the age of 50. The drugs, the alcohol, the smokes, the women... It was glorious back in the day. Now? He just can't muster the appetite for it anymore. Keeping up the reckless, rockstar persona is quite easy. Cleaning himself up in the background, not so much.

Battling a constant fight of the mind against his self doubt and old way, Mudz could use someone, anyone to help encourage his new habits. He's seen you many times at the gym, and may have caught himself a crush... But knowing his own history, could it ever work out?

tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Mentions of Past Drug Use/Alcoholism, Angst, so much fucking angst, and SLOW BURN, HOLY SHEESH IS IT A SLOW BURN, do I even need to tag this as having a light dusting of muscle-dad bod at this point?, you already know

tag list, open to addition or reductions, or older version available to follow on ao3: @greenheart99 (I'm sorry bestie 😔)

---

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every second of the clock echoes back a hollow, flat tune. It's well past midnight and the room is as dark as the world outside. Murdoc Niccals leans back in an armchair, watching the great nothingness of the outside world. On a table beside him sits a glass of skittles. He picks up one, working it between thumb and index for a short, thoughtful while. A morbid sort of boredom afflicts his expression, the same one that's plagued him for the past few years, really.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The red, candy coating has begun to stain his fingers. He stops turning it over, instead shifting it around to a new position, holding the piece still and flat by either side. By now, the hallmark S has worn away, leaving a bald spot of pink where the face of it use to be. He flips it around to see if perhaps he's only reading the wrong side.

Still nothing.

Like a chosen sacrifice, he holds it up again. Slowly, torturously, he pierces it's heart with the claw of his thumb. Long and plentiful cracks spread a web across the hard coating and soft, gritty inside. It drives just deep enough into the meat of it to conceal the tip of the nail. Like a violent explosion, only milliseconds old and frozen in space and time, the crushed tab of candy is held aloft in the darkness. Murdoc admires his work, no more or less entertained than just moments before, turning the smashed up cherry skittle this way and that. When he's seen enough...

With sharp, inhumanly pointed teeth, he scrapes it off his thumb and chews it the rest of the way down.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

At this point in his career, he doesn't much care what people think and conjecture about him. However, most seem under the impression that all his teeth are as sharp and jagged all around as they are up front. Not so. Or, at least... Not anymore. To the credit of the speculator, it's been several years now since they were like that. Now? He's had eight silver crowns put in where his molars should be.

There was a long stretch of time where tearing and scarfing down his food all in one go was simply his way of doing things. But as those years came and went, he found something else out quite quick- You wouldn't believe the fucking heartburn eating like that gives you. So now, he's put measures in place to ensure he chews his food too. Or at least... so that he can, if he chooses to.

Can't say he likes it. And fuck, if it wasn't a learning curve... But at least now he doesn't need to down a handful of antacids every few hours. A reminiscent smirk breaks the constant look of dour from before. Murdoc picks underneath his claws absentmindedly- there was a time there too where he was doing more antihistamines then fucking psychedelics. Or really any of his other shit, for that matter.

You know... If he had to pinpoint where the fall started, he thinks it would probably be close to then. That was all about... maybe five years ago, when his body stopped behaving the way he wanted it to.

And anyway, all's well that ends well between the crowns and the antacids and the like... He's been using little things like these, the Skittles and such, to help kick the pills and shit. Sometimes it's admittedly more therapeutic to swallow them whole, but lately he likes to chew them proper. After all, processing something so small and hard like that isn't very pleasant to do when all your teeth end in pinpoints.

The implants really were a smart move. For once. A helpful step in the right direction towards where he is today. That he believes.

Tick.

Tick..

Tick...

The best part is, no one knows about the crowns. And even better, no one know about the rehab. Hell, he's sure his own damn band mates don't know. And that's just the way he likes it. Not because he's worried about "disappointing" anyone or effecting this life long image he's built around himself... No, he does it simply because he refuses the help. It wouldn't really feel earned if he didn't do it all his own, you know?

He dug this hole. The drugs, the drinking, the fucking- Every little bit that came together and was finally starting to destroy him. He should be the one to get himself out. And yet...

There's that nagging question again. The one where, after every time he congratulates himself for being oh so stoic... so strong. So independent- He can't help but wonder.

Would he even get support from the others if he told them? Would they dissuade him? Would they mock him?

"Lost your edge?"

"Lost your balls?"

"Forgot how to have fun?"

It's hard to feel proud of what you're doing when you realize that the only one who may ever be routing for you is... You. Is it such an accomplishment, such a brilliant idea... if only he wants it?

Real or not, he can come up with a thousand insults that really any given person in here at all might throw at him. It's like this constant fear- of judgement. Of rejection. It's a disease. Paranoia. He holds this fucking trap inside himself, laying always in wait like the one live mine in a field of inactive ordinance. Just waiting for that one wrong move. That one little opening, so it can pick at the scabs of his doubt. Tear him open, and let the wound bleed.

He may go about life, sneaking around himself.

Tick

Always on eggshells. Trying to block out the noise and judgments of the world...

Tick

But no matter what he does. No matter how hard he hides, how far he sticks his fingers in his ears...

Tick

It always finds a way to detonate.

---

Dingdingdingdingdingdingdi-

In nigh an instant, Murdoc scuttles across the bed and slaps the alarm clock off. He drops back down with a groan. Every morning he wonders why he doesn't go back to using his fucking phone. Then, every time after he's had that first thought, he remembers he does it because it's more effective this way. No one likes waking up to a heart attack, but at least this gets him to actually move some in the morning, right?

He used to think shitty mornings were only a hangover thing. He's been clean for almost two whole years now, and he can tell you from fucking experience: no the hell they aren't.

The analog clock reads 5:30 am. He's been trying for a long while now to wake up early like this. Builds discipline and all that. Fuck knows he needs it. Waking up naturally would be nice, but the alarm doesn't hurt to give him a jumpstart while he's at it. Besides, this is the only time he takes his pills, so he damn well needs to be on time.

It's his master plan- here in the dark of morning, away from where all the others can see him... Feels quite good, actually. The mystery. The secret. It's exciting, almost. Murdoc Niccals, taking prescription pills, prescribed to him. Nothing more, nothing less. Sounds so insane, it only adds to the motivation he has to keep it up. The innate thrill of secretly doing something you shouldn't. Or at least, something that feels like you shouldn't.

Used to be he'd wake up this early just for the pills. More recently, he's decided to make more out of the early start. Could you believe he's starting fucking working out? It's been a year since, and sometimes even he can't believe it. He certainly would've quit a few months in if it weren't for the fact he has fuck all else to do. Even so, after all this time of work...

He can actually see a little difference. A little. Shoulders are looking broader, upper arms a little more toned to match his forearms and such. Hasn't done much for his paunch, but even this little bit is better then the nothing he had before. It's all just more exciting, secretive shit. The others would surely die first before giving him a compliment... But he knows even they've noticed. It's all in the way they look at him, a little less flippancy and disgust. A little more intrigue and confusion.

Perfect.

Or rather, it would be. It's just... Well- It would be nice to get some notice from someone aside from the people that see him every damn day, you know?

Getting all straightened out and shit has been better then he expected. It's nice to feel good about yourself, for once. That is, as in really actually good, and not as some cover up for how fucked beyond words you feel inside. Nice to put in the effort. Nice to see some results. Hell, nice to have celebrated his one year of sobriety without even grabbing a drink.

Alone.

With no one to talk about his accomplishment to.

And... that's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? He supposes really he's been alone all his life. Not so much in a 'no one around' type way, but more of a... Well, a personal way. So many years upon years upon decades of drowning himself in every fucking self destructive method possible- All just for even a chance to forget how purely, utterly alone he is. Then, he whipped up the band. Found others in that same pit he was in. Dragged down as many poor bastards around him as possible. Fucked every bitch, did every drug, drank every bottle he could get his claws on... And none of it helped, did it?

He always felt he was simply born hollow. Like he's got this... blackhole of selfish, starving desire inside him. He wants everything he can't have. Everything he shouldn't have. Only to have come into this new life of fame and money, and now he gets whatever the hell he wants. And wouldn't you know? It doesn't fix shit about him. All it does is make the hole bigger. He moves onto the next thing and the next thing and the next person and the next drug and on and on, every experience only pushing him deeper into that pit of himself. The one that's never satisfied. The one that he's tried all his life to fill a million different ways.

The one that nearly swallowed him, too.

All he can do is try to rewind that clock. Back, back, back... Back to when the hollowness was just a suggestion within him. Back before it grew to uncontrollable depths. Kicking the drugs and the prostitutes and the alcohol was the right thing. Fuck him, it actually helped. But it's too little too late, he thinks. Nothing can save him from knowing it's still there.

He knows what he wants, deep down. He does. The only problem is, it's something he knows he truly can't have. It transcends the physical. It's elusive. Complex. Magical, in that way... More and more he finds, that few people, normal people even, ever truly get to have it. No amount of money or fame could win him what he's looking for... It's an achievement only accomplished through personal actions and drive and timing and luck... The more he thinks about it, the more impossible it sounds for a bastard like him to come into.

You know... they always say the emotions greed and envy are described by the color green. That they're a monster. A living, vicious creature that possesses it's victim. They consume everything in their path, laying waste to all they touch only to leave the vicious mess behind in their wake until, in the very end... it consumes them too.

Green, with envy. Green, like the money of the greedy. Green, like-

Drenched in sweat, after a long hour of work... Murdoc at last turns away from his reflection in the massive, locker room mirror to kill the lights. Perhaps he'll just go shower at home.

When all is complete, the clock hardly reads past 8 am. He'll have a little time to himself before anyone else is up, which means just enough time to get back to bed and pretend the past two hours never happened. It's the same thing he does every morning, really. All part of the charade. He'll lay there for a good hour at least. Maybe fall asleep again. Maybe write some shit down for new songs.

But whatever it is he decides to get up to, there is one thing he'll be doing for certain... The other same thing he always does.

Thinking of you.

Never in a thousand years would he have thought himself to be the type to develop a crush. But then again, he felt the same way about his chances of going clean, once upon a time. By now he's far too used to his old ways. He sees something he wants? He takes it. Simple as that. In hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't surprise him at all that he's weak enough for a stupid, fucking crush. After living so long with a life built around instant gratification... That sense of wanting, and wanting it now, never quite goes away, does it?

Now, there are only a precious few things in life that can stave him off from something he wants... But acting in such a way as that was far easier back when he was constantly either high, drunk or fucking both.

One of the great things about working out so early is that there's hardly anyone else around. No one to watch him bumble his way through a new exercise, sure. But no one to recognize and bother him neither. Of course, a star of his caliber is bound to get approached eventually, but the excitement of seeing him there has worn off for all the other regulars. Anyone who gave a fuck has already came up to him. Everyone else... Well they stick to doing what they always do, which more or less involves ignoring him.

You are one such person.

It's that same old feeling again. The mystery and excitement of the unknown. Perhaps even, the allure of something you shouldn't have. He counts every day that you look over at him. Not just a spare glance, but really look at him. Maybe out of curiosity. Maybe just for a distraction when you rest. Maybe for nothing at all but to stare. And yet... Every time, it excites him.

He wonders if you ever find him impressive- He's been making serious progress since he first walked through those doors and you rather seem to know what you're doing too, after all. Surely you can recognize how far he's come, right? You must, as you're quite good at throwing him a nod of encouragement here and there, especially when he pushes himself. And so, more and more he pushes himself, just for those little, golden scraps of praise. Of recognition.

It's just basic gym culture, he tells himself. Just being polite. But damn, how he wishes something more would come of it. Maybe he really has lost his balls. If not, then he's certain he'd muster up the drive to talk to you. And granted, he very well could. That is, there's not really anything stopping him. But...

Just as the feeling of excitement in mystery is familiar, so too is that ever present, insidious field of mines. Bombs, loaded with fear, just waiting to freeze him up and shut him down. Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. They always say "the worst she can say is no". That's a fucking lie, he'll tell you what. Anyone who says shit like that very obviously has no idea what it's like trying to put yourself out there all covered in green skin and claws.

He can only ride his star power so far in regards to bypassing his looks, and even then, that usually has only ever lasted him a one night stand, at most. The moment that even the idea of looking for something long term entered his mind... His world view fell to shit. He'd been taught since the day he was born that there was something wrong with him, and as time went on, with a little effort it was easy to overcome. Look at him now. Famous. Adored by fans. What could be wrong?

It's only now, now that he's forced to face the real world, in all his sobriety... Only now that those same thoughts since his childhood days start to surface. The ones that say everyone else was right- There is something wrong with him. And sure, back a few years just about everything was wrong with him, but back then... He at least had all his vices to help him keep up the lie. To pretend he was fine. To blur his vision and muddle his thoughts, and let him believe that all the criticisms were just bullshit. Trifles. All to be ignored and forgotten.

But now? Now, he's not so sure.

He's fixed as much of himself as he could, which sure as shit is no small achievement. But he can't fix what's wrong out here. And that's no small thing neither. A low, disappointed groan rumbles in his throat. He's a man of very, very few secrets... But perhaps his best kept one is the hatred he harbors for himself. Oh he puts on a good show of confidence, of reckless abandon and hedonistic delight... But there was a time, during the very height of his destructive exploits, that he didn't care.

A part of him wonders if he wanted to overdose. Life. Death. Both were just as meaningless, and one as bad as the other.

Hell, he doesn't even know why he bothered trying to save himself. He's got the success and his life is coming to a close anyway. It would be so simple to go back to how things were. The drugs, the alcohol, the whores... But-

If he gives up now, how will he ever know if things can get better? The highs were just... never as high after a while. And the lows? Shit, they got lower and lower and lower still as the decades dragged on.

There has to be something better out there. Something worth cleaning up for. Something to prove that he can be better than the path of fucked up misery and abuse his father set him on. Something that makes him want to live longer. That makes a long life worth it.

Maybe he's a fool for thinking any of that, but... in all his decades of living, he's never felt a shred of hope like the precious, flickering flame he's tending now. Not during the highs. Not during the blurred together days and nights of drinking. Not when he brought home a new prostitute. Not even when he finally achieved the band he always dreamed of.

All his life, hope has always been that strange, elusive creature for him. The exciting little something he shouldn't have. But now?

It's all he has.

#here we gooooooo #YEET #murdoc niccals x reader #😔😔😔😪😪#there it is #I honestly don't know if I want to tag this so that more people can find it or not lmao

45 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 2 years

Note

block him and don't think too hard about it. it's okay if you feel bad, but keep him blocked. just do it and push it to the back of your mind! definetly a walking red flag cut him off and you'll be good!!

Well like. I keep telling myself "oh, give this dude a chance, maybe he's just extremely socially awkward, maybe he's from another culture and he doesn't realize this is weird" but like. Here

Like uh. Am I talking to an axe murderer or something or does he genuinely not see this as bizarre. This dude dodges questions like Matrix bullets. I'm almost wondering if he's testing how gullible and weak willed i am or something. And guess what 💀 my dumb ass never blocked him bc I brought up he was coming off as really creepy and he apologized and shit but like. This kind of. Reeks of. I dunno. It's very bizarre. Said he liked my name and wanted to see if I wanted to be friends but he said that only after I had to question him so. Now I just feel like if I block him now then I'M the asshole. Which is fucked up right?

Also like even if he wasn't acting sketch as fuck he says he lives in Florida and he's 24 so 1. He's younger than me 2. Florida sucks and 3. We could never meet in person or whatever so idk what his game plan is. I lowkey feel like he's looking for girls to try and get them to send nudes or something. His English is also kind of off to me which doesn't inherently mean anything but idk it just makes me think of phishers and scammers

I would just. Also like to point out. How it just. Is really jumping out to me that my trauma manifests as risking my own safety to placate others. Because I can list so many things wrong with this entire interaction and im sitting here talking about video games with him because I feel guilty to end the conversation 💀 fucking. Stupid ass voice in the back of my head "but what if you block him and hurt his feelings 😥 you don't want to make someone SAD do you"

Like dude if you're seeing this right now this entire thing has given me so much fucking anxiety about randomly talking to people. Straight up the only reason I replied is because of THIS blog and I assumed maybe he knew me from here or ao3 but. Nope! Just homegrown lonely dude randomly hitting me up?

God. God. Fuck. This is actually really starting to piss me of, less now about him even and more about how I can't even. Choose for myself. Protect myself. I dont know. Jesus. Every time I'm about to go through with it I either get a new nice message that makes me feel bad for considering it or. I dunno. I dunno how to even verbalize this. I guess I have a psychological idk THING about being terrified of upsetting people (i guess because my brain instantly correlates someone being angry or upset with the immediate threat of physical violence onto myself, thanks dad)

this is not even like. The only weird message I've ever gotten. I feel bad even talking about it because Im the one having the conversation and letting it continue. I should just try and smoke and sleep soon. I've been working overnight shifts now and when I get off work I just feel too drained to deal with this kind of thing. Idk. Hopefully I make some sort of decision soon so I can at least stop beating myself up over the indecision

10 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

A Gift from Mr. Blanc

Marinette's worst nightmares were of Chat Blanc. But that's all they were: nightmares. Until one day where in the stone cold light of day, Chat Blanc walked into the classroom, with a gift in hand. "This will make you love me again, My Lady."

Ao3 | FF.net

Everyone is on this Chat Blanc train, so I bought a ticket and got a window seat.

“Yes, Timestreamer, find me the best Akuma ever created!” Shadowmoth raised a manic fist as the images appeared before him.

The woman who was once Nathalie Sancoeur stood next to him, now transformed into an Akuma with thick glasses, which almost looked like VR goggles.

In a fit of artist’s block, Gabriel Agreste had vented that he had run out of ideas for Akuma. He had to keep going, and the villains couldn’t slack less Ladybug and Chat Noir get the upper hand.

To which Nathalie had said, “well, you don’t need to reinvent the wheel.”

She had meant it to be cheeky, but he took inspiration from it in a whole new way. Why invent a new villain when one from a different time is sure to work? Timetagger, an Akuma from the future, had seemed to almost win. Perhaps there were more like him out there.

He only needed someone to see the timelines so he could pick his champion.

So here they were, scanning through endless time streams, looking at massive successes, and massive failures. There really was no telling which one would do the job, but unless Timestreamer’s Akuma was taken or, heaven forbid, the Butterfly was taken, they could send villain after villain after villain.

Yes, this was a good plan!

“That one!” Shadowmoth pointed, the stark white catching his gaze.

“That one?” Timestreamer asked, feeling unease looking into his soulless blue eyes.

“That has to be Chat Noir’s akumatized form. He’s perfect.”

Following orders, Timestreamer summoned the Akuma forward.

From the static images appeared a grainy figure, slowly solidifying into a solid white boy. His expression was one of confusion and disorientation.

“Chat Blanc, I am Shadowmoth,” he began.

Immediately, Chat Blanc snarled. “You! You monster!” And he leapt.

Suffice to say, neither Timestreamer or Shadowmoth were prepared for a full on fight this early in the conversation.

Shadowmoth did have training in fighting, and successfully blocked the incoming swipe at his throat with his arm. However, the claws cut right through his suit and into his flesh, making him cry out in pain.

The next swipe hit true, and knocked the butterfly Miraculous from its place on his collar.

Chat Blanc then plucked the Peacock from his lapel while Gabriel Agreste tried to put pressure on his grievous wounds.

“Why?” Asked Gabriel, “don’t you know I made you? Don’t you know I can give you everything you want?”

Chat Blanc didn’t respond, only snapped the goggles off of a shell shocked Timestreamer. He then touched the black butterfly with his claw, and it crumbled into dust.

Nathalie ran to Gabriel and looked at his wounds. “You need to go to a hospital.”

“No!” He protested, pushing her away. “Answer me, boy! You’re easily the most powerful Akuma ever made. Once you get the Miraculous of Ladybug and this timeline’s Chat Noir, we can make the ultimate wish! Whatever your heart’s desire, it’s yours!” He reached a hand out to the boy.

Chat Blanc, who Gabriel knew as the exuberant and emotional Chat Noir, just looked at him with a sharp, emotionless stare.

“You already took everything from me, Father. This is my one chance to get things back to where they are supposed to be.”

“Adrien?”

The gaze didn’t change, but he did raise an eyebrow. “In my timeline you knew. You knew, and you still hurt me. You hurt her. You turned me, and you forced me to kill. You left me alone in that world for months. Left me to mourn. Cursed me to this form—“ he snarled. “That can’t starve, that can’t sleep, that can’t thirst or drown—“ a tear fell down his cheek. “You left me in a prison where I couldn’t die, and would continue to suffer because of your mistakes.” He gave a hint of a bitter smile. “Does that answer your question, old man?”

Maybe it was just the blood loss, but Gabriel felt some remorse. “I’m sorry, son. Give me back the Butterfly, and I’ll set you free.”

“Not a chance. Ladybug will fix me. And when I give her these, she’ll love me again. And I’ll have all the family I ever need.” With that, he summoned his baton to break through the window, and launched out into Paris.

Gabriel laid still on the ground, holding his chest with one hand while Nathalie gripped his wrist with the other.

“I…what am I going to do?”

“Well, you know Adrien has the ring—“

“No doubt Chat Blanc will tell him everything before we can get to him. I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”

“Then…what would you like to do?”

He spent a long time just breathing and thinking.

Choosing.

“I guess, apologize. And then hope that I haven’t done enough damage to lose the only family I have left.”

“Maybe, if he is Chat Noir, and you explain the truth to him…he’ll tell Ladybug. Maybe she’d help.”

“I doubt she’d do anything to help me, after all I’ve done.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I could just bleed out here. Save him the pain.”

“I won’t let you do that, Sir. As upset Adrien will be, he still loves you.”

“But for how long?”

“I think you should live and find out.”

—

Chat Blanc had never been so happy. He should be upset, angry, sobbing even, but he wasn’t.

He was getting his second chance. Paris was full, alive, teeming with traffic and swearing and smoking and everything foul that wasn’t there in his wastelands.

Hawkmoth was gone, and he was on his way to Marinette. With these, she had to love him, she just had to.

Francois DuPont never looked so pretty. The windows showed bored expressions of dozens of students.

Students that were alive and not submerged under water.

He dropped down in the courtyard, letting muscle memory take him up the stairs to his old classroom. The door was closed, but not locked.

Did he knock? Or did he just walk in? It had been so long…did he introduce himself? Did he apologize for interrupting?

He decided to forgo knocking, and pushed the door open on his own.

All eyes turned to look at him, but his attention was only on her.

Though he did get a glimpse of his own horrified face.

“Chat Noir?” The teacher asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” He never stopped looking right at Marinette.

“I must be dreaming,” the girl in question said aloud. “I must have fallen asleep, and now I’m having a nightmare.” Tears were filling her eyes as her voice crumbled. “Please tell me you’re a nightmare, Chat.”

“No, My Lady. I’m real.” Did she know him from somewhere? Or was she just assuming he was an akumatized Chat Noir? “But this shouldn’t be a nightmare, Marinette.” His steps were slow and soft, trying not to spook her. “I’m your dream come true. Because it’s over now, and we can be together.”

She stood abruptly, smacking her knees on the desk and almost tumbling. “What are you talking about?”

He placed the Miraculous on the desk. “It’s over now. I won. Hawkmoth is no more, and there’s nothing that can hurt us. This will make you love me again!”

“Holy shit…” Said Alya.

Marinette just stared at them, and then at Chat. “How—?”

“He brought me here. Somehow, an Akuma I guess. He plucked me out of my time, and brought me here. This is my chance to start again, you know.” He grabbed her wrist. “Now our love won’t ruin the world! We can be happy again, My Lady! We can be happy and nothing will tear us apart!”

Adrien, who had up until very recently, by reveal of a certain nickname, thought that Marinette was only just Marinette, grabbed Chat Blanc and yanked him back, forcing him to let go of Marinette.

“Don’t touch her!” He snapped.

“And you—“ Chat Blanc grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. “A little liar with too much self preservation! Why didn’t you act sooner?! Why couldn’t you save her?!”

Adrien clawed at the hand on his throat. “I don’t—know what the hell—you’re talking about!”

“Don’t play stupid, Adrien! It’s not going to work on me, and you know that!”

His voice was just a whisper now, as he attempted to meet Chat Blanc’s gaze. “Whatever, man. But you think outing her is smart? You think that’ll make her like you?”

Chat Blanc crushed harder, suffocating him. “It doesn’t matter with Hawkmoth out of the way! And once I kill you, there will be no competition! She’ll love me for sure!”

Marinette had stashed the Miraculous in her purse once Chat Blanc had turned his back. She was going to attempt to talk him down, but at his threat on Adrien’s life, she realized he was beyond talking.

“Tikki, Spots on!”

Chat Blanc whirled back around, only to get a fist to the face.

Adrien fell on the floor, gasping.

“Are you alright?” She asked, helping him up.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly as he nodded. He knew she was Marinette, but the mask still turned his legs to jelly.

“Why do you protect him, Ladybug? Don’t you know you can just be happy with me?”

Marinette pushed Adrien behind her. “I might be able to be happy with my Chat Noir, but never with you. I love Adrien, and I’ll fight to protect him, even if he doesn’t love me back.” Though it was a brave declaration, she still blushed.

“Ugh, don’t you get it? I am him!”

“What?”

“I’m Adrien! Adrien is Chat Noir! We’re supposed to be together! And we were! We were happy, Marinette! And then—and then you told me you didn’t love me anymore. You almost got akumatized over that…but I saved you.” He snarled. “But he kept us apart. My father knew who I was, and he turned me into this…”

“Wait,” Adrien rasped. “Father turned you into…an akuma?”

“Because he’s Hawkmoth, Adrien. He always has been. Mother is alive, in a coma, in the basement. And he never let you see her, because he doesn’t trust you.”

“Shut up!” Ladybug shouted.

“Even after he knew who I was, he still hit me. He beat me, Adrien, because he doesn’t love us!”

Adrien held a hand over his face, willing his sobs to stay silent.

“We’re just a pawn for him. But…I can make it better. Let me destroy you, and everything will stop hurting. I’ll take care of Marinette, I promise!”

“That’s enough!” Ladybug lashed out and snagged his bell, ripped it from his throat, and smashed it on the floor.

Then she caught the butterfly as it emerged, purified it, and let it go. But she didn’t call for a cure, not yet.

Chat Noir, sans bell, glanced around the room in confusion. “Ladybug? What’s going on? Why are we here? Where’s Hawkmoth?”

She met him with tear streaked cheeks. “You’re in the wrong timeline, Chat Noir.”

His eyes flicked to Adrien, who was clearly shell shocked. “That would make…some sense.”

“You were akumatized, and our Hawkmoth brought you here…probably to recruit you.”

“Did I hurt anyone?”

“You beat him. You beat Hawkmoth.”

“And you tried to take my place,” Adrien hissed, showing his bruised throat.

Chat Noir gripped his hair fiercely. “Oh crap! Oh crap crap crap! I’m so sorry! He’ll be all better once you do the cure, right Bug?”

“Yeah. Physically, at least…but you did say some things that will hurt for a long time.”

“I didn’t mean any of it! I was an Akuma, they lie and say all sorts of things—“

“You told me about Father. And mother.”

“Oh…” he sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s too fresh in my mind to be a lie. I saw mom. He wanted to use the Miraculous to bring her back, but he was so unwilling to listen to me, to even think about working with us—that’s how it happened. He got me.”

“I’m so sorry, Kitty.” Ladybug lamented. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He shook his head. “It’s over now. If I defeated him, then you don’t have to be subjected to it,” he told Adrien. “I don’t mind taking one for the team.”

“Did you kill him?” Adrien asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Even if he did, casting cure would fix it.” Said Ladybug. “There might be hope for a happy ending.”

Chat Noir took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “My Lady, will you send me back? I have to see her again. My Marinette. I have to see her and make up with her.”

Ladybug patted his cheek fondly. “Knowing me, she probably still loves you. But something happened to make her put distance between you.”

“You’ll be happy together, right?” He asked, pouting.

Adrien slipped an arm around her waist and held her. “I think we’ll manage.”

Ladybug hugged Chat briefly. “Thank you. For all your trauma and suffering, you helped us.”

“You also revealed both of our identities to the class, but that’s the kind of mistake I would make as an Akuma…” Adrien winced.

Chat Noir looked at all the shocked and concerned faces around him. “Wow, look at all these comforting, understanding, and loyal friends you have. Where’s Lila?”

“Out sick today,” provided Sabrina.

“Perfect! Don’t ever ever tell her what happened here. She’s a liar and would tell our identities in a heartbeat for a chance for fame.”

“Not a problem, Kitty Cat,” said Alya, with a wink. “Some of us are pretty good secret keepers.”

“You knew!?” Adrien cried, with betrayal in his voice.

Alya winced. “Ah, yeah…”

“Adrien.” Ladybug took his face and held it with trembling hands. “My kitty, my partner, my best friend, what I’m about to tell you is going to suck and you’re going to hate it, and that’s why I haven’t told you.”

“I’ve already had a lot of bad news dropped on me today, lay it on me.”

She glanced at the rest of the class and then Chat Noir. “Let me send him home, and then we’ll talk in privacy.”

He nodded, not really fond of how much the class had already learned about him today.

Ladybug threw her yo-yo up in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!”

In a wave of fluttering red, Chat Noir was gone, and so were the bruises on Adrien’s neck.

“Spots off.”

Now, the class started whispering. Up until that moment, shock held them in silence. After all, it's not everyday you find out your classmates are superheroes.

“Miss Bustier, are you okay if we leave for a while?”

The teacher stammered a second, unfreezing from her complete and total shock. “I think it would be a crime to make you stay here today.”

Marinette smiled gratefully, before taking Adrien’s hand and leading him out into the hall. He was silent, rightfully so, and Marinette could only be happy there was no chance of him getting akumatized.

Finally, they took a seat on a bench, and waited for the other to speak.

“I…didn’t think this was how our identities would be revealed,” he breathed.

“I always wanted to tell you.” Marinette insisted, “even though I said otherwise. Tikki and Master Fu were so adamant that I not tell a soul.”

“So why does Alya know?”

She rested a hand on his. “I’ll get to that. But first…Chat Blanc.”

Adrien sat attentive and quiet, holding his accusations for later.

“It started about three months ago, when I gave you that Beret.”

“Beret? The one from the Brazilian fan club?”

“Yeah…except it wasn’t. It was from me. Originally, I left it in your room, with my name on it. My real name. A little while after I left, Bunnix came to me, and explained that she needed my help. She took me into her burrow, and led me to the future…the future where you were akumatized.”

“As Chat Blanc.”

“Yes.”

“That same akuma, that same Chat Noir?”

“I assume so. The moon was destroyed, the city flooded. You were all alone, everyone was gone.”

“Where…where was that Ladybug?”

She hesitated to say it, but admitted, “I found her underwater…cataclysmed.”

“No…I wouldn’t have—“

“I know, Adrien. Chat Blanc was upset about it too. He cried. He wanted my Miraculous to make the wish and fix it.”

“Sounds like an Akuma alright,” he said bitterly.

“At the time, all I knew was that you knew my identity, and you said that our love destroyed the world. So…I assumed that you became akumatized by finding out who I was…and that the beret had something to do with it. So I erased my name.”

“Oh…but Chat Blanc said he was akumatized because of my parents.”

“I didn’t know that back then. I wish I had. As it stood, I was certain an identity reveal would end up with an Akuma.”

“I understand your reasoning…but what about Alya?”

She sighed, the guilt toiling around inside her. “That wasn’t…it was a spur of the moment thing. I was back into a corner and people were getting really worried about me. Worried and nosey…and so I told Alya. Rena Rouge.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I should have told you. I should have told you so you could have told someone. It’s not fair to think I was the only one that needed a confident.”

“If I had to pick someone that wasn’t you, it would have been Nino. So I get it. Really, I do.”

Tears welled up in her eyes regardless. He was hurting so badly, but what could she even do to help?

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes! Yes I do! Adrien, you’re my partner. Yes, keeping secrets can keep us safe for a while, but eventually we’ll run out of trust and then we’ll be in danger again. I don’t want to lose you!”

He gave her a little smile. “I might be upset, but you aren’t going to lose me. I promise.”

She squeezed his hand. “No more secrets. We train as guardians together. I’ll tell you all the auxiliary heroes, and all the formulas and—“ she stopped, blushing.

“What?”

“Ugh…I have to tell you something, since I said no more secrets.”

“Is it bad?”

“…no?”

He turned his hand to squeeze her back. “Okay. Well then, let’s hear it.”

She looked away, too nervous to look at his face. “Gah! This is just as hard as it’s always been!”

“I’m not going to judge you.”

“I know! I know!”

Pretend this is just Chat. She goaded herself.

“I…I’m in…love with you?” She squeaked out. There. The deed was done. She shyly turned to look at him.

Wide, sparkling eyes full of tears, but a big smile on his face. “You mean it? You said as much to Chat Blanc, but I didn’t know for sure…”

“Ugh, right. That.” She nodded. “You were the boy I kept turning…well, you down for. I’m sorry…”

“I’m not!” He chirped. “Marinette, if anyone was going to have a crush on me as Adrien, I’m so glad it’s you. You really know me! You’re special to me, and I always considered you as a friend.”

She sighed, hearing the magic words. “As I’ve heard.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She blushed again. “It’s just…whenever we had a moment, or I tried to do something special for you, you always remind me that you feel…nothing for me.”

“Wait, what? That’s what you got out of that?”

“That you want me as a friend and just a friend?”

He actually laughed at her and pulled her into a hug. “Marinette, I thought you were nervous around me because you were uncomfortable. I said that stuff to let you know I treasured our friendship. I love you so so much, My Lady. I was deeply in love with Ladybug, and completely in denial with Marinette.”

“Can confirm!” Shouted Plagg from inside his jacket.

“So having you be the same? I’m…I’m so happy!” He hugged her tightly. “Today has thrown a lot of bad things at me, and I’m so worried about what comes next. But with you, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He pulled away slightly. “You…will stay with me for whatever happens, right? I know Hawkmoth being my dad is kind of a deal breaker…”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up into him, kissing him right on the mouth.

He stiffened briefly, before melting against her and pulling her tighter into the hug.

The kiss was perfect, not in execution or performance, but because of the love they felt. Adrien nipped at her lip, and Marinette hummed as she twined her fingers into his hair.

They pulled away begrudgingly.

“You and me against the world, right Kitty?”

“You know exactly what to say to make my heart swoon, my lady love.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Kiss me and I’ll get over it.”

“I’m serious, Kitty.” She touched his cheek. “I knew it was going to hurt, and I foolishly and cowardly put it off, hoping it would go away.”

“Marinette, from what you said…it wasn’t just painful for me. It scared you, didn’t it? You said…when Chat Blanc appeared, that you thought you were having a nightmare. Do you dream of him?”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Adrien.”

He considered his next move, and decided to scoop her up into his lap. “So, here’s my idea. If you have another nightmare about him, you call me, and I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“And do what?”

“Hold you. Kiss you. Reassure you. Cuddle with you until you fall asleep. Whatever you need.”

She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too, bugaboo.”

Silence lapsed between for a while, as they just sat together, enjoying the warmth of their bodies, and the open air between them.

Marinette sighed. “We should probably go confront your father.”

“Yeah. We should…”

“Could…I offer you a reward if we go through with it?”

“What could possibly motivate me?”

“Once we’re done, and everything is put away…we can find a random, secluded rooftop and…make out for a while.”

Adrien stood, with Marinette still in his arms. “You know how to motivate a man.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just think about later.”

“One peck for the road?”

“One.”

Adrien held her tightly before dipping her and pressing a sinful, toe-curling kiss to her lips. When he finished a few minutes later, she breathlessly huffed, “that was not a peck.”

“No, but I need the strength.”

“Somehow, it’s a lot harder to stay mad at you. You can put me down now.”

“Nah. Plagg, Claws out!”

“Tikki, Spots on!”

The closer they got to the mansion, the faster Chat’s mood tanked. All the surface level happy feelings had bubbled away, and now he was filled with dread and apprehension.

“I…I don’t want to send my dad to jail,” he said, as they landed inside the walls.

“I know Kitty. I can do the talking.”

“You’re so good at it, Princess.”

She knocked twice, but didn’t wait for an answer before entering.

It didn’t matter. Gabriel and Nathalie were sitting in the lobby, waiting, as it appeared.

“Hello son,” said Gabriel, with not a trace of malice in his voice.

Chat halted, paling considerably. “You know?”

“Chat Blanc revealed as much. What did he tell you?”

“He said that…mom was still alive. You wanted the Miraculous to wake her up.”

“That’s right. But…” he sighed. “Can I humble myself and ask for your help, Ladybug? Can you look at her? Can you see if there’s any hope?”

“I would love to.”

#miraculous #ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrien agreste #chat blanc #ladynoir #identity reveal

117 notes · View notes

taylors-fourth-cat-meow · 3 years

Text

ACOWAR Chp 4 :)))

This is long because that's how stupid this chp was. 😭😭😭😭

(This is the chp with the summer solstice)

Let's goooo

But what had not existed here a year ago was Ianthe.

Wait so you're telling me thats its only been a year since feyre said she was the happiest she had ever been with Tamlin?? When they had their first kiss??? Wtf and now she hates tamlin??? Look, i get he abused her and stuff but you just suddenly don't loose feelings for someone you plan to marry or idk...die for??? Thats what makes the abuse so much worse. You still have lingering feelings. This whole dynamic between tamlin and feyre is so rushed and let me tell you it doesn't look too good on rhysie. It only shows just how manipulative he really is. And how hes managed to change feyres entire way of thinking in less than six months. Someone needs to slap some sense into her and say that when you see a TOXIC PERSON you gotta WALK THE OTHER WAY.

"Cue that whole audio*

If I had wanted to paint a picture of serene purity, it would have been the image I cast that morning, my hair braided above my head, a crown of white hawthorn blossoms upon it.

OH MY FCK THE AMOUNT OF PICK ME-CHOOSE ME-LOVE ME- CHARACTERS IN THIS SERIES MAKE MY HEAD SPIN

SHES LITERALLY TALKING ABOUT PAINTING HERSELF AND HOW GREAT AND PURE IT WUD LOOK. AS IF SHE ISNT PLANNING A MASS MURDER LMAO

wondered if Ianthe could spy the wolf grinning beneath.

WTF NO SHES CALLING HERSELF A WOLF????? OKAY.....so now shes a dragon with smoke in her mouth/ a horse for tamlin to mount/a grinning wolf. Thats... interesting.

Well guys heres your diversity. Sjm doesn't discriminate between imaginary, domestic or wild animals 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

When my mate had rescued me after I’d decided not to go through with the wedding

Well there you go feyre admitting she is a damsel in distress that needs saving from prewcious mate 🥺🥺🥺

Way to write a feminist seires sjm 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

He had saved me.

There you go again...more of this first class feminist seires with your favourite girl boss heroine.

How many others had seen the truth of my suffering—and tried to spare him from it? Seen my suffering and done nothing to help me.

OH.MY.GOD (Janice's voice)

SHE'S SO FCKING SELF CENTRED AND SELFISH??????? ITS ALWAYS MY MY MY?!?? SHE REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE TAMLINS TRAUMA!!!! BITCH YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO WENT THROUGH SHIT!!! HE DID TOO!!! AND ARE YOU LITERALLY ASKING WHY HIS PEOPLE PUT THEIR RULER WHO HAS INDEED BEEN A GOOD HL FOR CENTURIES OVER A GIRL THEY HAVE KNOW FOR A FEW MONTHS?????? HOW DOES- HOW IS THIS THE MC OF THIS BEST SELLING SEIRES?!?!??????

“As the light is strongest today, let it drive out unwanted darkness. Let it banish the black stain of evil.” Jab after jab at my mate, my home. But I nodded along with her.

Ummm...rhysie does indeed always show up at the SC to bother tamlin unwanted. And you literally about to cause a mass murder so yeah...you are evil....and do i again have to repeat myself about what rhysie did for 50 years???

Also...isnt this part of the ritual??? why is she assuming this is about the NC???

More prayers and rituals, until Tamlin was summoned to the other side of the altar to light a candle for the souls extinguished in the past year—to now bring them back into the light’s embrace when the sun rose.

This isnt really relevant but i just love this so much. In my country too at places of sacrifices and death there is a lamp (diya) always burning to honour the dead and i think this adds so much culture and meaning to the SC. What i dont get is that NC is main setting of this series yet...they have like no culture..no rituals on festivals?? Its just rich af people giving unnecessary gifts to each other and drinking wine and having sex in clothes made by dead moms???

Pure as day, pure as starlight.

I- does she- does she not realise that day and starlight are two contradicting terms...that dont even go together... I mean i am not a professional writer...but shouldn't it be day and night??? Or daylight/sunlight and starlight...and why is she even talking about day...isnt this dawn??? shouldnt it be pure as dawn?? Isnt she using thesans power??

A knight before his queen. (feyre about Lucien)

QUEEN???!?

I THINK THE FCK NOT

YOU ARE NOT HIS QUEEN BITCH. HE DOESN'T OWE YOU ANYTHING. IF ANYTHING TAMLIN IS HIS HL AND YOU SOME GIRL HE MET A FEW MONTHS AGO!!!!

No wonder she acts so entitled around him making fun of him ordering him around then demanding respect for her and the guy who called him rabble, threatened his mother multiple times and threw a head in his front yard for fun.

I let a little bit of the wolf show.

😭😭😭😭

Pls someone take the computer away from this woman i can't- ✋🏼

Also the symbolism is so bad😭😭😭

Wolf is always associated with the SC. Andras was a wolf...ig tamlin's beast form was also originally described wolf like...our miss archeron is now High Lady of the NC...shes representating the NC but she chooses wolf as her animal like what even does this line mean????? Is it because she is in the SC??? I am genuinely so confused..whats the significance of this wolf ?!?!?

I had no quarrel with the people of these lands, who had suffered alongside the rest. None.

Huh.

So she really is that dumb.

“I should apologize.” His eyes flashed. “What for? Perhaps it was a blessing. Magic still surprises me. If she’s angry, it’s her problem.”

(talking about ianthee)

NO PLS DONT I'M GOING TO CRY😭😭😭😭

WHERE CAN I GET MYSELF A TAMLIN PLSSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

He has learned from his mistakes he's trying to do better... And yet they don't even give him a chance because of one mistake?? That's... Not right you guys...

Also this is so FCKING FRUSTRATING. I mean isn't Tamlin an established abuser and an...if i may put it Sarah's words 'alphahole' *gags* at this point??? Shes already retconned anything good about him...so why go back to caring sweet tamlin??? Just continue with your new character!!!!

JUST MAKE UP YOUR FCKING MIND SARAH LIKE DAMN!!!

I didn’t know how Rhys had endured it—endured Amarantha. For five decades.

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

BITCH DID YOU JUST COMPARE TAMLIN TO AMARANTHA ?!??!?!

hhdehsjdhdjkdkdn

Idk how i feel about feyre comparing tamlin to the women who has been objectifying him since he was a CHILD.

BITCH Are you forgetting that Amarantha SA your mate while Tamlin never NEVER touched you without your permission (atleast when he wasnt drugged by some magic)

Are you forgetting that you loved him and actually died for him?!?!?

Are you forgetting that Amarantha fcking ENSLAVED tamlin and his court?????

What even is this comparison?!?!?

How did this get published?!?!?

And you let Ianthe take him into that cave instead.

AAAHAHAHHAHA THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE

Just in the previous chp Lucien says he went of his own free will. So stop blaming Tamlin for letting lucien take Ianthee into the cave. Calamnai wasn't a SA. The whole setting of this festival and the disgusting sex maniac crazy omega world sjm has set it in blurs the line of SA. But it wasnt. Its the magic that chooses not Tamlin!!! Tamlin didnt let anything happen you bitch.

And also, why shud tamlin take part in calamnai...his fiancee who he is committed to has been abducted by the same guy who killed his family and SA her for three months. Why wud he want to sleep with random women while being drugged???

And yet you could stomach making a deal with Hybern, as if I were a stolen item to be returned.

Look right here, this is the manipulation of the readers mind. THIS is not healthy for an impressionabke mind. You know YA is a hit genre cause teenagers relate to the main characters but they shud also be allowed to explore it themselves. This doesn't let them. I'm telling you this isn't healthy. I hope to god you dont recommend this series and put anyone through this.

A stroke of his hand down my back was his only reply.

(his= tamlin)

Okay just to make it clear...this ... tamlin showing affection like this...we can say his love language is touch...cassian on the other hand... shoving his dick in nesta when he wants to show affection wouldn't really count as touch...it is in a way...but that way is just gross. M srry if i'm not making sense its literally 1:21am.

I nearly asked if it was worth it—if giving up this sort of peace was worth it, in order to have me back.

In 4 chpters i think she has mentioned this 50 times that tamlin made the deal to get her back when she was just a small part of it. Its like shes listening to what they are talking (the dialogues they speak) and yet refuses to acknowledge them or is unable to comprehend the depth of it...which just makes her all the most stupid and dumb.

The more chpters I break apart like this makes me think that her editors were on drugs lmao

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti feyre #tamlin #anti rhysand #this shit is laughable

37 notes · View notes

ladynyctophilia · 3 years

Text

I love Judy, and I would sell my left kidney for her, but she’s a little shit and can be the queen of spite sometimes, and here’s just ONE example when we first fucking meet her.

Spoilers?

——-

Judy: How about it, V? Raw braindance, ever taken a dip before?

V, the unfortunately confident Merc: Psh! *Waves a hand.* I think I can handle it.

Judy: Okie dokes. *Gestures to the chair, already scheming.* Sit down, settle in, and we’ll get you going.

V, the gonk: Preem.

Judy: *Get’s V all situated, sus as fuck about this merc Evey hired, but smiles like everything is fine and walks back to her desk.* Alright. Gotta create your sensory profile first.

V, still WAY too confident for someone who’s never been in a raw BD: Ok. Hit me. Just promise it won't hurt. *Tries to be funny.*

Judy: It won't...not this time. 😈😈😈

Evelyn: 🙄

Judy: OK. All set. Tossing in a sample BD so you can get to know the editor.

Evelyn, the impatient: Why are we wasting time? Let's just show V my recording.

Judy: *Gives Evelyn a look.* So we aren't risking our necks. (Code for, I don't trust this bitch, let me do my thang.) Will only take a sec. *Pretends to look through her stash of BD’s, but knows EXACTLY which one she’s picking.* I got something here...that should be perfect. 😈

V: What’d you choose?

Evelyn: *Lights a smoke.* Here we go...

Judy: Oh, nothing... just some amateur robbery in Heywood. *Acts all innocent, doing techie things.* I don’t even know where I got it from. 😇

V, the oblivious: Sweet. Boot it up.

Judy: Alright. Here we go, giving you the tailored version first. *Proceeds to put V through a BD hell where the artist is high, gets shot, and dies.*

Evelyn: For fucks sake, Judy. Please don't break my merc.

Judy: *Waves a hand, leaning over V.* What? She said she could handle it.

V, after feeling everything in the sample BD: W-what's the meaning of life? 👁👄👁

Evelyn: Great. 🙄

Judy: Nothing happened, you’re alive and well.

V: That w-was...OK...I...*Is still shaking, not knowing what's real or fake.* Phew......kefttt...*Shakes her head, trying to get it together, but is honestly just trying not to cry in front of these two beautiful strangers.* You could have w-warned me first....I didn’t know how much dying actually hurts.

Judy: *Smiles, pleased with herself.* Trust me, real death hurts muuuch worse. *Goes back to her chair.* Ready to go back in?

V: Wot. 👁👄👁 *Is low key freaking out because this is only the SAMPLE BD; what the hell.*

Judy and Evelyn: *Continues to beat up V via Braindance for the next hour.*

-------

Out of ALL the BD’s this chick probably has stashed away, she picks the robbery one, KNOWING that this is V’s first raw BD and V fucking STRUGGLED. That's mega sus Judy. 😂

Bonus

-----

After V leaves~

Evelyn: So? *Pulls out a cigarette.* What do you think?

Judy: What? *Stands up, annoyed.* You already know my thoughts, Ev. This heist is insane, and I don't think you should be doing it.

Evelyn: *Rolls her eyes,* I'm aware of your opinion. *Breathes in the cig.* I meant V. What do you think?

Judy: You want my honest opinion?

Evelyn: I wouldn’t want anything less.

Judy: *Huffs, sitting back down.* WELL, I think you just straight up hired a fucking gonk. *Scrunches her nose.* You don’t even know this merc, Ev, and you are betting your future on that gonk and her chooms that are only motivated by eddies??? I don’t like it. Not one bit. *Is typing way too hard.* What if someone offers them more eddies? Or they take the relic for themselves? Or they get caught and rat us out? What then? Huh, Ev?

Evelyn: Judy. Relax. *Rests a calming hand on her shoulder.* I have everything under control. The plan will work, and besides...a gonk V might be...her and her associates are the best at what they do. Why do you think I went to the top fixer in Night City?

Judy: It still seems too risky. *Shakes her head, seconds away from exploding, but is only tolerating this conversation because Evelyn is her best friend.* When you fuck with a corp like Arasaka, the city always finds a way to fuck you back harder. That's just how it works for people like us.

Evelyn: By the time Arasaka notices, we will be long gone from Night City, and you can finally focus on creating art rather than cheap thrills in this shitty basement. *Squeezes her shoulder.* Remember. I'm doing this for us.

Judy: I know...*Mumbles, going quiet for a few minutes, thinking it all over, but eventually looks back up with vulnerable eyes.* Ev...you don't have to do this. There's still time to call off the heist. If we waited a few more months...I will eventually have enough eddies to...

Evelyn: Judy, stop. *Pulls her hand away.* My mind is already made up. After this, there will be no more waiting...for either of us. *Brings the cigarette back up to her lips.* We will finally be living the lives we deserve.

Judy: Fine. *Sighs, turning away.* I don't want to argue about this anymore. Ok? Just promise me you will be careful.

Evelyn: Course I will be. I'm always careful. *Winks, dabbing her cigarette in the ashtray.* Also, don’t think I didn’t notice those lingering eyes of yours checking out my “gonk” of a merc. *Smirks.*

Judy: What do you mean? *Pricks up, annoyed.* There was no “checking out.”

Evelyn: *Shrugs.* Calm down. It was just an observation. *Picks up her purse.* Though, I will say, that V does have a cute little ass...and nice titts. *Pauses, undressing V in her head.* And don't get me started on those defined arms and legs of hers...*Sighs* The mercenary life has definitely been favorable for her. I’m jealous.

Judy: *Is back on her computer, clicking through files, trying so fucking hard to ignore Evelyn right now.* Sure, yeah, you going to fuck her now?

Evelyn: Hmph. *Stares at Judy.*

Judy: ...

Evelyn: ...

Judy: *Throws her hands up in the air.* Fine. OK. Yes, your merc has a nice ass. Happy?

Evelyn: You’re precious, Judy. *Chuckles, hand on her hip.* Let's just hope her work is as preem as her ass. *Leaves with a delicate wave of her hand.* See you for breakfast Thursday.

Once the door closes...

Judy: *Groans, face planting on her keyboard.* Fuuuuuuck.

---

(This turned out longer than I had intended. Sorry!!)

#judy alvarez #evelyn parker #judy x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp77 #jude has tude #JUDY SUS #The game would have been so much different if there was an option to go to Evelyn first instead of dex #Still lowkey sad that Evelyn wasn't a bi romance #night city #fuck #shit #hashtags #fanfic #kinda?

214 notes · View notes

starsuh · 4 years

Text

do re mi | myg

featuring. min yoongi x reader | 3.2k

summary. while teaching you how to play piano, min yoongi realizes that his dumbass might have feelings for you after all.

genre. fluff | f2l | roommate!au | mutual pining

warnings. a quarter-life crisis and a soft make-out scene at the end

Amongst Min Yoongi's many talents, his sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering you was the one that most oft caught you off guard. Whether it was the intensity in which you slammed a door shut, or the way in which you didn't choose to annoy the fuck out him like you did every other day of the week; he would notice each time. It was only clockwork that he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you had collapsed against the couch with perceptible chagrin.

"What's up?" he asked, a simple question that often entailed a more than complicated answer. Peering down at your tightened features, he awkwardly patted your shoulder as if to make known that silence would be just as valid of a reply.

You ran your hands through your face. "I don't know,” you said. If you did, you would've told him, just as you told him everything. Though the pair of you had began as merely two people who happened to be roommates because there were no other affordable options, spending months watching Netflix with another person tends to lead to friendship — even best-friendship, though neither of you had established such a title. It was the kind of friendship that needn't clarification, rather it was just another unequivocal fact amongst many.

After kicking off your shoes (Yoongi would scold you for that in a less emotionally-turbulent time), you pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them in a ball-like manner. "It's really fucking lame but I’m just realizing some things,” he nodded, prompting you to continue. "I'm scared of the future, I think. I mean, everyone is, but when our prof was talking about internships and shit earlier I kind of freaked out then decided that hiding in the bathroom was the best option.”

In his gaze was a reassurance so intent that you had to look away lest you become ensnared in it. He oft had that effect, increasingly so throughout the past few weeks. "What about it?"

Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath. “I think I know what I want to do, but then I see other people, people like you, who are so passionate about their place on Earth that to not do that thing would be a fate worse than death. Like, I love the path that I’m on but there’s always a voice that’s telling me I’m gonna fuck something up and regret everything.” You played with the loose threads of your top, pulling at the offending stitching. You laughed. “This is so stupid. I guess I’m just realizing that I might not be cut out for it.”

His sudden silence filled the room so heavily that you began to wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. Gears turned behind the messy black mop atop his head that hung over his eyes; a face similar to the one he makes when contemplating a new track he had produced, seeking for each of its flaws and corresponding solutions.

It was so sudden when he reached down to grab your hand that you almost jumped. An inch away from falling onto his chest with the sudden upwards tug, you steeled yourself. "I'll show you something," he said to which you replied with a questioning stare. "It'll just be a sec, c'mon."

You allowed him to drag you to his bedroom, though not without glaring at the back of his head and whining. "Your room smells like Cheetos and day-old boxers."

He rolled his eyes. "I cleaned it this morning, so shut up."

He pushed the door closed with his hip, never once letting go of your hand until he unceremoniously shoved you towards the left end of the keyboard bench. You wiped the accumulated hand sweat against the rough fabric of your jeans, both thankful yet forlorn that he had let go. His was a comfort rarely given and you craved his affection the way one did with a cat that ignored those around it.

He reached down to plug the extension into the socket. "Can I play you something?"

You blinked, unsure if the nervous tone laced in the question was figment or reality. “What?”

He gave you a blank stare though it didn’t distract you from the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. “I said, can I play you something? Something I wrote?”

Impatient, he didn’t give you a second glance or a moment to reply before his hands flew across the board, pulling melodies out of the nooks and crannies of its black and white keys. Through every note, he told you of emotion, of love, of heartbreak and melancholy. You don't think you had ever understood what music was until then. It was more than his expertise, though he was quite the expert; it was the way his eyes closed at certain shrills and the way his shoulders hunched at others, the way he slammed harder into the keys and at other parts softer. He played like a poet. A writer. And you refused to be someone who didn't appreciate it for what it was: a story told to you.

The slight smirk gracing his soft features told you that he found amusing the way your mouth gaped open in shock. You’d only ever heard the distant echoes of his sound from behind closed doors as you walked past.

Yoongi had never played for you before, was even shocked that he was able to now, knowing that your mere presence in close proximity provided quite the distraction.

When he stopped, the air almost rang in its silence, as if you had forgotten what the world sounded like without his music in it. The hush blanket laid across the room felt bare and vulnerable. You understood now more than ever why he locked himself within the confines of his space in all hours of the day. If you could live in his symphonies, you would.

"Wow.” Because what else could be said? "That was... Yoongi, you're amazing."

His smirk remained, though as more of a mask to hide softer feelings behind. "Must've been if you're complimenting me for once.”

"Because you already have a ginormous ego."

He began playing once more. This time, a slow and deceptively simple melody. The chords were arrows tightly strung that flew through the air in wisps of smoke. To you, its warmth was paralleled to the feeling of his own beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours as he reached to play a few lower keys.

"I think you're taking it too seriously," he said. "The future, I mean."

Your brows furrowed. "I kind of have to, dude."

He rolled his eyes but kept playing, occasionally glancing at you as he did so. "What I mean is," he pressed softly against the keys in the left end of the piano, their tenor notes filling your ears. "You need to calm down. Like this," the already soft melody slowed. "You know what you want, don't you? Why are you hesitating?"

You stilled, the feeling of being both caught and scolded grounding you in time. Your eyes focused on his hands to avoid the feeling of his analyzing gaze on the side of your face. “There are things I want to accomplish but there’s also things I want to have,” you groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should choose the former or the latter but they’re so entangled that I can’t even tell which is which anymore.”

"Some things are only difficult if you think they're difficult." He looked down at the keys. "Like playing the piano, everyone knows that learning it is hard but something like this-" he played three chords in succession. "-sounds simple, right?" He continued to play those same chords until they blended together in a single melodious breeze. "But when I was a kid, learning piano was the bane of my twelve year old existence. I hated it so much because my impatient ass wanted to be good without trying. So, in true dumbass fashion, I quit taking lessons after two weeks."

You tilted your head towards him. “How did you learn then?"

“Well, I realized I was being a huge pussy and went back." Shaking his head before the glaze of the memory could wash over, he nodded towards you. Grabbing your hand, he placed them over the keys. “Can I teach you a chord?”

Your heart spiked in one fell swoop. “What? And embarrass myself in front of the music god himself?"

He laughed and it lit up his eyes brighter than the screen of his laptop that he had forgotten to shut off, still on the League of Legends home screen. “I told you, it's only hard if you think it is."

Too flustered to argue, you could only watch as he directed your fingers towards the correct keys until three were stretched towards their respective positions. C Major. You wondered if he could hear the rapid pace of your heart through the vibrations on your skin from where his larger hand rested atop your own. You could only pray to any god who would listen that he didn’t.

Among the numerous feelings that bubbled beneath your chest, the sudden pinch of ice that struck your nerves as he lifted his palm away from yours was one that you were the most unsure of. Filing that thought away for later, you focused on the most important task at hand: avoiding looking like an idiot in front of Min Yoongi.

Before you could retreat, your hands pressed down.

A sudden burst of sound filled the silence that you hadn't realized had grown so deafening. Your eyes widened as if you hadn't expected the chord to occur despite Yoongi's administrations, like trying to guess a passcode and getting it correct in a miraculous feat of luck. The now fading sound was not like anything you were expecting, though you knew even monkeys could do what you had just done. It was an actual piece of the puzzle that was music rather than the CD case or paper bag that had come with it.

Likened to an excited pup, you looked towards him for praise or assurance that you had done it right only to catch his already grinning countenance at your widened eyes.

For the next half hour he taught you two other basic chords, never failing to correct you in such a patient manner that your heart rose and fell with each glance and soft appraisal.

"But sometimes," he grinned. "Sometimes you need to stop thinking."

Your brows furrowed, though you didn’t need more than a few seconds to understand his cryptic wording before you yelped, almost flying off your seat at the abrupt disruption of the peace.

He began smashing his hands against the piano, creating the worst orchestra your ears had ever had the pleasure to hear. Overcoming the shock, both of yours laughs bubbled out, drowned by the keyboard speakers. Without a second thought, you joined, key smashing against the lower end. Together, you created an ear-grating masterpiece of cacophonous noise and piercing melody, yet it was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

Yoongi began cheering your name like the greatest hypeman in existence as you gave the most effortful performance of your life, hands pressing against the first keys you saw to the last. You didn't know what you were doing but it didn't matter, not when he was smiling with his gums on full display as you went with your gut for the first time in years. Yoongi, the boy whose hands crafted magic, whose words changed you, whose music moved you. Yoongi, who looked at you and saw past your forced pretensions and society-enforced perceptions.

You laughed until your lungs ached for air, having not even realized that your whole body leant against his as you tried to catch your breath.

"Oh my god, I think my ears are broken," you covered them, finally dragging your hands away from the keys.

His grin widened. “You're a quick learner."

“Is this the part where I say that it's because you're a good teacher?"

“Only if you're polite, which we know you aren't." He hadn't stopped smiling and you had never felt prouder of any accomplishment in your entire life. “Was I able to distract you?"

You laughed, bringing your hands back to your lap to fiddle with them. He's seen you wear the same ramen-stained hoodie three days in a row with hair just as ratty yet you had never more felt exposed. “I’d say yes but I think I’ve exceeded my Yoongi compliment limit for the day."

"And here I was thinking that that compliment limit was zero."

"Hey," you playfully knocked against his shoulder. "I always say your breakfast is good."

He knocked against you back, his eyes turnt to half-moons. "That's because you want to brainwash me into cooking for you everyday with half-assed compliments."

"Or maybe," you lightly leaned against his hoodie-covered shoulder. "It's because I like eating breakfast with you."

He paused, and a grin that could only be described as shy graced his features. He tapped against the keyboard but didn't press hard enough to allow a sound to be let out.

"I trust you," he said in the silence. "That you can follow your heart. Even if that sounds corny as fuck, I really believe it."

You smiled, something you've been doing more and more often with him around. "I'll try," you said, watching as he contemplated his next words with a bite of his bottom lip. Giving him time, you glanced back at the piano. "Is it really that simple?" You pressed on a key.

He finally looked up. "I think so," he played the key beside the one you had just pressed, the side of it touching yours. "Even if it doesn't sound right to other people, who's to say that random key smashing isn't music? When you think you're supposed to play a certain way, that's when you hesitate. Even when you fuck up a piece," he pressed another key. "Regretting it doesn't stop the echo."

He began to play another soft melody, leaving you just as entranced as you were the first time he did.

“I’m a hypocrite, though,” he closed his eyes, lightly scoffing. “Giving you advice that I can’t even take.”

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Why?”

“Because...” He took a deep breath, hands leaving the keyboard as he fully turned to you. “I like you," he said it like it were a fact you should've already known. “I... I like you. A lot. I can't remember when you stopped being my annoying roommate who'd hog the fridge space and became the annoying roommate who I couldn't stop writing songs about. Before I could even realize and stop myself, today’s me kept looking forward to tomorrow’s you. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to stop hesitating about the things in your life while I spent every second of every day wondering whether I should tell you my feelings and ruin our friendship.”

For if there was anything Yoongi knew more than most was that love was fucking stupid. It caused people to be irrational, selfless, and weak-hearted, yet why did he want to forget the stupidity that came with it whenever you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, hair messy and shirt tousled?

Love was fucking stupid. But maybe he could be an idiot if it meant that you'd be stupid for him too.

“I know you don't feel the same way but I just needed to tell-" you kissed him before he could finish what was sure to be a sentence so ridiculous that even the most astute of linguists would be left baffled. He was Min Yoongi. The boy who spent all day locked in his room making music and playing games with his friends. The roommate who'd wake up early just to cook you breakfast. The friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. The man who you'd found yourself falling for with every gummy smile. Yoongi. It had always been Yoongi.

And he was kissing you back.

His lips were as warm as the hands that carefully wrapped around your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. He kissed the way he played, soft and thoughtful.

Pulling away, he whispered your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful a one. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours in disbelief. The hand around your waist tightened as if in fear that at any moment you might say that you hadn't meant to give him what had to be the best moment of his life -- that you had actually accidentally fallen on him and he had simply been mistaken.

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "I've liked you since the first time you've cooked me breakfast if the heart eyes I gave you each time weren't already a dead giveaway."

He shuffled in his seat. "You have low standards then," he said. "Or are in desperate search for a house-husband."

You smiled, your nose brushing against his. "Maybe, a bit of both."

He leaned away from you, eyes lit up in a euphoria that didn't hinder from his nervous cadence. "Actually, that song I played for you? Earlier?” You’d never seen him blush before. “I, maybe, composed it thinking of you.”

"A personal chef, jester, and composer? I think I'm winning."

His nose crinkled. "You know you can still back out, right?"

"You're acting as if I'd even want to."

"Stupid songs like that... I suck at love yet I still want to give you everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But my everything will still only amount to that."

"If that's your everything,” your hands interlocked with his. “Then your everything is more than enough."

"I like you," he murmured the confession between your lips as if it were clandestine, the urge to say it a million times more bubbling up from his chest. Though stronger than his urge to say it was his urge to hear you say it back.

Your lips met his completely. Perfectly. "I like you, too."

Pulling away once more you couldn't help but laugh at the reddened color of his cheeks and ears. Cutting away at the awkward and still unsure tension, he inched backwards with a startlingly loud clap of his hands. "Now that that's settled, can we go back to making out? This corny shit is so awkward."

"I can't believe I like you," you groaned but kissed him back anyway.

While there was nothing in your life that you could be sure of, you knew that the man whose smile could light up the entire city of Seoul would be there for you for every step, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

242 notes · View notes

starshapedkookie · 4 years

Text

“everything i’ve wanted.”

CONTINUATION OF: “i’d rather be dead.”

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: The aftermath of Jungkook breaking up with his long term girlfriend hasn’t gone how you were expecting. After all, you believed with her out of the picture, everything with Jungkook would be easier and he would finally be yours. Turns out, Jungkook’s guilt for what he did may be the one thing that’s stopping him from fully giving his heart to you.

genre: angst, smut, little fluff, college au

word count: 10.7K

includes: mentions of cheating, swearing, drinking, smoking, unprotected sex (wrap it up gentlemen), dry humping, hair pulling, feelings of being used

note: hi welcome back. if you haven’t already please read the first part (i’ve linked it above😊) this was written on a whim of inspiration to continue one of my favorite things i’ve written. less smutty details in this one but that’s fine lol. please give me some feedback if you want & enjoy the shitshow!

It had been exactly one week since the party. One week since you found out Jungkook had broken up with his long-term girlfriend. One week since he had taken you back to his place and made you his—finally. Or so you had thought. One week, seven days, 168 hours, and 10,080 minutes since you had last seen or spoken to him.

You had tried to reach out at least once day, sending him a call or text only to be left unanswered. In the two months you had known Jungkook, you hadn’t gone one day without at least texting each other. The first time exchange numbers was to keep up with a friend in the class you shared, only later down the line to turn more inappropriate. You hated this. You weren’t sure what was wrong with him. You only wanted to help him and be there for comfort, but he obviously needed space.

You had bit your nails down to the quick before you realized and had skipped more meals in the past week than you ever had in your life. You didn’t know why you were being like this—you and Jungkook weren’t dating. The circumstance far from that. After all, he was the one who had just left his girlfriend of nearly two and a half years—he has a right to feel down.

You had thought after so much time of him longing for you—fucking you—after she was out of the picture that the two of you would ride out on a stallion into the sunset. Maybe you misread the situation. But after so long, you wanted Jungkook—you wanted him to be yours. You waited long enough—it wasn’t fair for him to shut you off like this.

“Earth to Y/N,” a snap takes you from your thoughts. You blink your focus to Min Yoongi and Mina—your roommate and best friend—along with the new black haired friend that’s in one of Mina’s classes. Yoongi was a nice guy—quiet and reserved, but super thoughtful and always telling it like it is.

“Sorry,” you laugh, stabbing at the salad in front of you aimlessly, not planning on finishing it.

Mina eyes you curiously, “Are you okay? You’ve been acting kind of strange,” she says tilting her head slightly. Even Yoongi who hasn’t known you but for a few weeks max, would agree with Mina.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you brush it off, “I’m just really stressed about midterms,” you say. It was partially true. You were stressed about Jungkook, but even more stressed about your next round of exams mainly because you had yet to start studying—because you were busy worrying about Jungkook.

Mina only half believes you. “Okay, just let me know if anything’s wrong?”

You know she means best, but sometimes you wish she wouldn’t go creeping into your personal life. She knew about yours and Jungkook’s situation and was not a fan, obviously. You couldn’t help but fear she knew exactly why you were acting strange—no matter how much you tried to fool her.

“I’m gonna get a coffee,” you announce standing up from the table, “Want anything?” You ask Mina and Yoongi. They both shake their heads before looking back at their laptops.

You walk over to the coffee shop, squeezing through the crowds of people. Peak lunch time was the absolute worst in the dining halls on your campus. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors all trying to eat at the same time was a horrifying sight. Especially for someone like you who didn’t want hundreds of pairs of eyes looking at you.

You place your coffee order, plain black with three sugars, before someone catches the corner of your eyes. It’s Jungkook. He hasn’t noticed you and you feel your heart racing just from one glance his way. He’s picking up a Grubhub coffee order and before he can walk away you say—

“Hey,” you offer with a small smile. Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to you and his face is unreadable. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly before speaking.

“Uh hey,” he says monotonously before turning on his heels and walking away from you. You watch his back as he walks away from you and you don’t think your heart has ever felt like this before. The sharp pain in your chest is hard to ignore and you can’t help but wonder; what have you done?

You grab your coffee before walking back over to the table where you and your friends sit. You don’t even get fully in your seat until Yoongi is asking you a question.

“You know Jungkook?” He asks. You nearly freeze and you ignore the way Mina’s eyes flicker up from her computer.

“Uh yeah,” you say, “We have a class together,” you leave it at that.

“Gotcha. We’re frat brothers,” he says and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Of fucking course they are. “He’s been kind of MIA this week, acting weird and shit.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really?” You act like you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah apparently him and girlfriend broke up, did you know her too?” he asks. You have to fight the urge of your skin wanting to heat up. Mina is looking dead at you right now and you choose to ignore her fire-bolt of a stare.

“Uh, no not really,” you clear your throat awkwardly.

“I just didn’t know if you knew what was going on with him,” he says, “Not that you guys care,” he laughs dismissing the subject.

You look at your watch before gathering your things up. “Well I have class in ten minutes. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you say.

“Wait up, I’ll walk you. My class is on the way,” Mina says gathering her things too. You internally groan. Fuck.

“Alright, see you later,” Yoongi says waving the two of you off.

Once you and Mina are outside away from the commotion, she immediately begins to question you.

“Jungkook and his girlfriend broke up?” She presses, “Did you know this?”

You had failed to relay this information to Mina as you weren’t sure how to approach the conversation. If everything was normal between you and Jungkook it would have been an easy conversation to have—a relieving one at that—but we see how that’s turning out.

“Uh yeah,” you say kicking a rock as you walk.

Mina’s eyes nearly pop out of her head, “What the fuck and you didn’t tell me?!” She scolds you.

“Why do you care so much?” You shoot back at her.

She rolls her eyes, “Um maybe because my best friend had been fucking him behind his girlfriend’s back for two months, that’s why I care,” she half whispers, “Is this what’s been going on with you?”

“I’m fine Mina,” you say.

“Bullshit,” she spits, “Shouldn’t you two be happy about this?”

As much as she hated the circumstance—she knew you and Jungkook just clicked.

“He hasn’t spoken to me in a week,” you say simply approaching the building your class was in. Mina’s eyebrows furrow.

“Wait… seriously?” She seems just as confused as you feel.

You nod, “I don’t know what’s up with him,” you sigh, “I’ll see you later okay?”

She lets you go and once you get to class, you don’t even open your laptop, staring at the back of the chair in front of you the whole time.

______

You thought you were dreaming when you got a text from Jungkook the next evening around 8:30 PM. Your mouth goes dry and your hands clammy as you fumble with your phone.

[Jungkook 8:32 PM] what are you doing

[You 8:34 PM] Nothing much

[You 8:34 PM] What about you?

You bite your lip nervously as the bubbles show up of him typing.

[Jungkook 8:35 PM] can I come over?

You think your heart skips a beat and you don’t think you can reply fast enough.

[You 8:35 PM] Of course

Mina was out studying in the library therefore you were by yourself. You could use the company and Jungkook is easily the first person you could think of you that you want to be with right now. You tidy up the messiness that’s consumed your room the past week and make sure the living room and kitchen were clean enough for your liking. You’re throwing on a sweatshirt as you hear a couple knocks on your door.

You hurry over, opening the door quickly. Jungkook stands there dressed in all black—black sweatpants, a large black long sleeve shirt covering his frame. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are tired. You probably look the same to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, stepping aside for him to come in.

“Hey,” he says, seeming much more relaxed than he was at the coffee shop yesterday afternoon. His eyes glance around your apartment, “You here alone?” He must have taken note of the silence within the walls.

“Uh yeah,” you shut the door, “Mina’s out at the library with our friend Yoongi,” you explain watching his frame carefully.

“Min Yoongi?” He asks, his gaze turning back to you.

You nod, “Yeah… he’s in your frat right?”

“Mhm,” he nods, “I like hyung a lot.”

“Yeah he’s nice,” you say and you swear the tension rises after each passing second of him being here. It’s suffocating.

You lead Jungkook back into your room and shut the door as he lays down on your bed with a deep exhale. He covers his eyes with his arms and you sit down on the edge of the bed, eyeing him carefully. He seems distressed and you aren’t sure what to say to him.

“H-how are you?” You ask him hesitantly. He removes his arms from his face, looking at you and then over to your desk scattered with school work.

“Not good,” he says, again monotonously, but truthful.

“I figured,” you are careful with your word choice and you keep your tone low, barely audible. He laughs and you can’t tell if it’s sarcasm.

“Why do you say that?” His eyes finally meet yours and stay locked. His tone isn’t serious, but it isn’t exactly playful either.

You bite your lip, breathing heavily, “I mean… you haven’t spoken to me in over a week so I just thought…” you trail off, not sure how to finish what you’re saying.

His eyes don’t leave yours and his gaze is too heavy for you. You look away as he speaks again.

“Y/N,” he says, getting your attention again, “I’m sorry… I’m just going through a lot right now…”

You turn back to him, shifting your body to face him more. His hand is right by your leg and your tempted to grab it—and you normally would have—but you don’t this time.

“You can tell me anything Jungkook, you know that,” you tell him honestly. He knows this and you shouldn’t have to tell him.

He stays silent. He looks as if he’s trying to find the right words to say, but he doesn’t know how to formulate them. He looks down at your body before putting his hand on one of your legs that’s bent towards him.

“I just thought this would be easier,” he says, his thumb rubbing small motions on your bare skin, “It’s been hell.” You think he’s nearly on the brink of tears but he pushes them away quickly.

“Jungkook,” you say putting your hand on his, “It’s the process…” you pause, “I know what you’re going through—“

“No you don’t,” he snaps, pulling his hand away from you. His eyes are narrowed and burning holes in your skin, “Don’t fucking say that Y/N.”

Your lips part in shock. He’s never raised his voice at you, this being the closest thing to that. You ease your gaze on him, not wanting him to be angry at you. Everyone has gone through a break up—and the healing process is the fucking worst, but it’s something everyone goes through—he can’t say you don’t know what it feels like when you do. You don’t defend yourself though, wanting to deescalate his mood.

“Jungkook just let me help you,” you say in almost a whisper, feeling your emotions beginning to creep up the more you look at him. He’s so goddamn beautiful and perfect in your eyes, you couldn’t stand seeing him like this.

His eyes are stormy and he looks as if he’s debating something. He sits up more on his elbows, reaching one of his hands out. You take it slowly and soon he’s pulling you on top of him. Your heart drops into your stomach at his touch—fuck you’ve missed it.

You sit perched on his abdomen, his hands firmly around your waist as the two of you stare at each other, waiting for someone to make a move.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly and you shake your head instantly.

“Don’t say that,” you tell him and he licks his lips quickly and a little too tempting for you.

“Come here,” his voice is deep and you swallow harshly before leaning down to close the gap between the two of you. When your lips meet after an entire week, your whole body sets ablaze. His lips are always so damn soft, sometimes chapped, but not today. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you two move with each other, his own hands slipping underneath your sweatshirt to grip your waist better. You already feel hot and want the material off of you but you want to make sure this is what Jungkook wants before you do anything furthur.

“Jungkook,” you pull away from him momentarily, “Are you sure?” You don’t know why you’re asking because you already know his answer.

He nods quickly, moving the sweatshirt material up from your frame. “Yeah, I’ve missed you so much,” he says and you help him pull it over your head leaving you in your sports bra. He leans up again to close the large gap between you two. You tangle your hands into his hair when his tongue dips into your mouth, once and then twice, sending your core a shockwave. His lips move from your mouth, to the corner of your mouth, to your jawline, and down your neck slowly and tortuously. With the grip in his hair, you pull him impossible closer to you and you shift your weight from his tummy down to his crotch, settling where he needs you the most.

You move your hips experimentally against his sweatpants and he sends a small groan into your ear. You do it again and you groan at the feeling. He pushes your bra up and over your head and quickly attaches his mouth on your left nipple. You continue to grind against his growing member, your clit being stimulated slightly.

Jungkook detaches his lip from your nipple and he quickly rids himself of his shirt before kissing you again. His hands rest against your ass and he pushes you to grind on him again. He moves his hips to meet up with yours and you let out a moan against his lips when part of his shaft hits just where you need it.

You feel an orgasm already approaching as you rock yourself onto his clothed length and you want him inside of you as soon as possible. You need it.

“Fuck, Jungkook I think I’m gonna come,” you breathe out, your forehead resting against his. He rocks up into your clothed core a little harder this time and it’s becoming too hard to stay quiet.

“Come on punkin,” he says against you, “Come for me baby.”

With his words, you find yourself over the edge and your jaw drops as your orgasm quickly washes over you. No—it’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had but it feels damn good after so long. He covers your mouth with his as you moan into him, your body stifling above him.

“I need to fuck you,” he groans and his brown eyes look almost black as he stares into you. You nod quickly and you get off of his lap, quickly pulling down your pajama shorts and underwear, him doing the same with his sweats and own underwear.

“I don’t have any condoms,” you tell him and he nearly knocks the breath out of you when he flips you over on your stomach.

“It’s fine punkin,” he says and he’s already lining himself up with your entrance. The small friction sending a chill down your spine and you nearly collapse onto your elbows. He slowly enters you, both of you sending harsh groans to each other. Your hands grip the bedding, Jungkook’s left hand gripping your hip just as tight as his other guides his length fully into you.

Once he bottoms out, he has to breathe heavily to stable himself. You look at him over your shoulder and he’s looking right back, his chest heaving up and down. He starts to move in and out of you slowly and your head falls into your pillows.

“Fuck—shit,” he groans throwing his head back, watching the way he enters and leaves you through slitted eyes. His pace is agonizingly slow and you yourself start to move back onto him, fucking him from the front. You moan deeply as you feel all of his length fill you up. Jungkook watches as you fuck yourself onto him as he listens to your small ministrations. From this angle, his tip hits the right spot deep within you and you’re picking up your pace before Jungkook halts your hips against his.

“Jungkook,” you whine, needing to feel him fast and hard.

“What’s wrong punkin?” He teases and you groan as he slowly pulls out of you and back in again.

“Fuck,” you can’t hold yourself up anymore and you go down on your elbows, trying to focus on your next orgasm that’s slowly building up.

“Want me to fuck you harder?” He says deeply and he leans forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling your face up from the mattress.

“Yes, Jungkook—goddammit,” you’re almost frustrated the way he plays you like this. It’s all he needs to hear before he picks up his pace, thrusting himself in and out of you quickly but not too fast for either of you. He pulls on your hair each time he sinks into you, his other hand kneading your ass between fingers. His own small whines have picked up as he fucks himself faster into you and you feel your toes curling at the familiar sensation of your climax coming. To your surprise, Jungkook’s hand smacks down onto your ass quick and hard, once then twice, which causes an animalistic groan to come from his mouth.

You reach up in between yourself and rub your sensitive bud to send you over the edge and once it comes, your whole body feels like it’s shattering from the sensation.

“Jungkook…ah, fuck,” you whine loudly and he lets go of your hair, both of his hands holding you firmly against him as he chases his own high.

“Almost there baby, jesus—fuck,” he stills deep within you as he cums. Your name and a string of curse words flowing out of his mouth quietly. You collapse against your bed as he pulls out of you. You’re spent and you nearly don’t have enough energy to turnover. When you do, you almost ask Jungkook to spend the night until you see him gathering his things, pulling on his underwear.

“A-are you leaving?” You ask him, covering yourself with a small blanket on the end of your bed. Jungkook’s eyes glance at you before finding his shirt.

“Yeah… I gotta chapter meeting… for the new pledges,” he says, not really paying much mind to his words.

Your mouth parts, “Oh.”

You expected him to stay—you wanted him to stay. It was always either one of you leaving after you fucked—but you thought that would be over once he broke up with her.

“I’ll text you okay? I promise,” he’s slipped into his shoes and he leans down to your face, kissing your lips gently but not long enough for your liking.

“O-okay,” the disappointment is evident in your tone and Jungkook notices, but he pretends he didn’t hear it as he leaves your room, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door, unable to process what just happened. You feel yourself start to get emotional, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. You cover yourself with your blanket more, feeling lonely, used, and vulnerable. As the first tear falls from your eyes, you don’t stop the others that follow. For the first time in a long time, you’re spending a Saturday night by yourself, crying your eyes out, unable to get those brown eyes out of your head.

_____

Jungkook never texts you. Not Sunday, not Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. It’s starting to look like another week is going to go by without hearing from him. You were worried to say the least. Jungkook had never ghosted you and this was now becoming so out of the ordinary, it was something you couldn’t brush off anymore.

Thankfully on this Thursday afternoon, Yoongi offered to grab some food with you as you study together. You were quiet once again and Yoongi couldn’t help but ask what was going on.

“Y/N,” he says and you look up from your notes to meet his gaze.

“Hm?” You mumble under your breath.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he pauses, “I haven’t known you that long but you’re kind of worrying me…”

Your shoulders and face visibly drop. “I swear I’m fine, I just—“

“You don’t have to lie to me you know,” he interrupts you, his eyes burning holes into yours.

You glance away from him, slumping back into the chair you are currently sat in.

“Can I assume this is about a guy?” Min Yoongi was a quizzical person—a very smart person at that. Deep down, you wonder if Mina had mentioned anything to Yoongi about yours and Jungkook’s situation, but you know she would never do that.

“Sure,” you answer bluntly, not bothering to hide the displeasure in your tone.

His mouth goes straight before almost curling into a smile, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you mutter. You couldn’t talk about it.

“C’mon,” he starts, “We’ve both taken basic psychology classes and we both know ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “Are you volunteering to be my shrink?”

He laughs before speaking again, “I charge five dollars an hour, that covers my Starbucks order.”

For the first time in awhile, you send him a genuine smile. You stare back down at your notes, knowing you aren’t retaining any of the information so possibly a study break would help. Perhaps you would open up to Yoongi some—but leaving out some minor details.

You breathe out heavily before shutting your notebook, leaning onto your elbows. Yoongi watches you carefully, doing the same as he shuts his laptop to give you his full attention.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” you warn. Yoongi looks at his wrist that doesn’t have a watch sitting on his skin before saying—

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he smirks and you roll your eyes. “Time is a social construct so I’m all ears.”

“So there’s this guy,” you pause, thinking about your word choice carefully, “We met a few months ago in class and I would see him around at parties. And uh… we both hit it off together well, but then a bombshell dropped that he had a girlfriend, one for awhile at that.”

Yoongi nods his head, signaling you to continue.

“Um, well skip through a couple weeks and,” you pause, getting ready for the embarrassment that’s about to flow through your body, “We hooked up… like hooked up, hooked up.”

Yoongi’s face falls some, tilting his head to the side, “So…do you feel guilty? Is that why you’re acting weird?” His voice is calm and not demeaning like you were expecting.

You shake your head slowly, “Well… the thing is we kept hooking up, for a couple months,” your voice is uneven and shaky. You hated to admit being the ‘other woman’ but in your moments with Jungkook you couldn’t have cared less.

“Hm,” Yoongi says, “Okay… can I ask why? I mean you knew he had a girlfriend…?”

You bite your lip nervously, “Well every time we were together, he told me that he wanted to be with me and he didn’t know how to end things with his girlfriend.”

“He sounds like a pussy,” he scoffs with a laugh and you have to fight the temptation for your cheeks to fill with heat. “Are you still hooking up with him? Does he still have this girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “No, he broke up with her recently and… I thought that everything would fall into place now that she’s out of the picture,” you pause, “But he hasn’t really spoken to me since they broke up. I’ve only seen him a couple times since he called it quits.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow, seeming to be somewhat confused. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words immediately come from it.

“I wish I could tell you why this guy is doing this, but honestly I can’t,” he responds, “Do you know if he told his ex about you?”

“I’m not sure… I’d hope not,” you rush the last part.

“Wouldn’t you want to you know? I mean if your partner cheated on you?” He asks. Cheating. Probably your least favorite word in the dictionary.

You shrugged thinking carefully about your answer, “I’m not sure… maybe if I suspected something?”

Yoongi’s eyes soften, “Maybe his ex suspected something? And now that she might know why he broke up with her, he feels guilty about it now.”

A confused look spreads across your face. You’re not really following. Jungkook didn’t seem to feel guilty anytime his dick was inside of you, why would he feel guilty now?

“I mean maybe he’s pushing you away because he’s trying to cover his ass. Like I said, if she suspected something, seeing her ex with a girl right after they broke up would probably confirm any suspicions she had,” he rationalizes and once you hear those words, it makes sense as much as you don’t want to admit it.

“I guess that makes sense,” you mumble, staring down at your horribly picked cuticles. “I just wish he would say something to me and not leave me hanging like this.”

Yoongi debates saying his next sentence—but he’s not one for a filter.

“You probably don’t wanna hear this but I don’t think you should be this upset over this guy. He cheated on his girlfriend and then strung you along and has left you like this… sounds like a guy you shouldn’t want to be with anyways, single or not,” he says truthfully.

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you had been so infatuated with Jungkook and his huge dick—you couldn’t see that maybe he isn’t what you need right now. Maybe Yoongi’s right?

“Maybe you’re right,” you mutter, slumping down fully in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Have you told Mina any of this?” He asks.

“Yeah, she found out pretty quickly what was going on.”

“What does she think?”

You frown slightly, “She hated the fact that I was demoted to homewrecker but she said if we made each other happy…” you trail off looking at your now cold coffee.

Yoongi chuckles, “Well, don’t settle for the class of a homewrecker, you’re better than that.”

You give him a small smile again, “Thanks.”

“What are you two doing this weekend?” He asks with curiosity.

“I don’t know yet, not sure about her either,” you answer.

“Well, we’re having a party to welcome in the new pledges. You two should come,” he smiles ever so slightly.

You think about protesting when you remember that Yoongi and Jungkook reside in the same frat but that soon passes your mind when you realize you’re in desperate need for some fun. You’re sick of sulking in your room watching The Office for the umpteenth time.

“Sure,” you say, “I’ll let her know.”

He nods and you almost don’t hear him when he says, “You better.”

A smirk creeps up on your face, “Is Min Yoongi sweet for Mina?” You tilt your head jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah fuck off,” he flips you off from across the table before pushing his chair out, “I gotta get another coffee if I’m sitting here with you for another hour.”

You laugh, “Get me one!”

_____

Never in your time at university had you put so much effort into your appearance to go to a fraternity house. Alas, here you were trying on your 10th outfit of the night and double touching up your makeup.

“Y/N! Come on! Our Uber’s here!” Mina yells from your living room and you groan loudly. You look at your black jeans and black blouse that shows some of your cleavage before running out to the living room, holding your booties in your hands.

“I’m coming!” You respond, grabbing a water bottle of vodka in your other hand. You follow Mina out to the Uber and she sits up front while you hop in the back. You quickly slip on your shoes so you’re not barefoot anymore as the driver begins to speed off to the familiar fraternity house.

Knowing you should have started drinking an hour ago, you twist the lid off of the vodka bottle and tip it back into your mouth, making sure the driver can’t see you in the dark. After a big gulp, you pull away and a shiver sends down you spine. Fuck, you hated vodka—why were you doing this to yourself? Then you remembered—Jungkook. You had to get him out of your head to enjoy this night and the only way to do that was to get absolutely plastered. You take another swig and Mina eyes you from the front seat with a judgmental look before laughing to herself.

You had not told Mina about the conversation you had with Yoongi. You weren’t planning on it either. Should would probably kill you if she knew you told him your deepest darkest secret. Granted you were smart enough to leave Jungkook’s name out of the picture but she wouldn’t have cared.

Another ten minutes go by before the driver pulls up to the curb in front of the house. You and Mina thank him before walking up to the scene. It’s about 10:30 PM and there’s already a plethora people here, the music loud, and the smell of different types of smoke coming from all directions.

“Mina! Y/N!” You are greeted at the door by non other than Park Jimin. The hunky guy you nearly hooked up with a couple weeks back before Jungkook obviously changed the plan and fucked you in one of the bathrooms at this very house.

“Hey! What’s up?” You give Jimin a side hug, holding your vodka bottle close to your chest. He also gives Mina a small embrace before pulling away.

“I’m on door duty tonight so no alcohol for me,” he says with a pout, “But don’t let me stop you!” He smiles and steps aside from the door to let the two of you walk in.

The hallway is crowded and a Drake song plays loudly over the conversing. You hold onto Mina’s hand tight, dragging you through the corridors to go to the dance floor. Before you get there though, you run smack dab into the chest of Min Yoongi.

“Oh. Shit, hey guys!” He smiles brightly and you’re sure he’s buzzed.

“Hey,” Mina hugs him quickly.

“You guys wanna drink?” He leans down between you to half yell his question. Both of you nod and he gestures to follow him. He leads you into the kitchen/bar you are quite familiar with before digging into a cooler to fetch some drinks.

You take another shot from your bottle and then hand it to Mina—her needing to catch up with you.

“Here you go,” he hands over a classic hard seltzer and you gladly take it.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” you say louder than usual.

He nods, “Yeah all these pledges invited pretty much anyone they looked at this past week,” he laughs. You offer him the vodka bottle but he shakes his head quickly, “I gotta DD at 2 AM, I can’t get shitfaced as much as I’d want to.”

“Gotcha,” you turn to Mina and she takes another shot. After she’s finished, her pointer fingers goes to you and she signals for you to come closer. You lean into her, her mouth near your ear.

“Have you talked to Jungkook?” She asks trying to keep her voice down so Yoongi won’t hear.

You shake your head, “No, why?”

“No reason,” she shakes her head and you furrow her eyebrows at you.

“What are y’all whispering about and why am I not a part of this conversation?” Yoongi butts in and both of you push against his chest.

“It’s nothing Yoongi,” she sends him a sweet smile and you’re sure his eyes melted at the sight, “Come on, we’re gonna go dance,” Mina says grabbing your wrist.

“We are?” You ask.

“Yup, c’mon,” she pulls you away from Yoongi before you can object and you finally feel the effects of the alcohol fogging your brain.

An EDM songs rips through the walls and before you know it, both of you have let loose and released all your stress in the world. All you know is that you needed this. After the two weeks you’ve had—this was only the beginning of your night and it wasn’t ending anytime soon. You and Mina continue to pass the bottle back and forth, sipping on the harsh liquor until half of it is gone. Mina’s hands are on your shoulders as both of you scream the lyrics of the current song into each other’s faces. Although your head spins and each time you jump up and down you stumble, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long time.

Between everyone’s yelling of the lyrics and yours, time suddenly feels like it stops when you meet a familiar set of brown eyes across the room.

The sight of Jungkook makes you head to a full spin but when you realize who is standing beside him—you feel like you could hurl—his ex-girlfriend. What is she doing here?!

You steady yourself onto Mina, breaking Jungkook’s gaze on you before turning to her.

“I’m gonna g-get another drink,” you stumble your sentence and she nods quickly before she leans to you.

“I’m gonna go talk with Hanna, I haven’t seen her in awhile!” She tells you and you give her a thumbs up before walking away from her and Jungkook’s line of sight.

You get back to the kitchen and find that Yoongi hasn’t moved—he’s now talking to a handsome guy who you’ve only ever seen around the frat.

“Y/N!” Yoongi greets you again, “Have you met Taehyung?” He asks.

You shake your head, steadying yourself against the island in the kitchen, “No, hi… I’m Y/N,” you introduce yourself as sober as yourself will allow it.

Taehyung has a boxy smile—it’s cute. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“I need a drink,” you announce, stepping between the two frat brothers, heading straight to a cooler. Yoongi notices the way you stumble and almost fall onto your face before he’s grabbing your hand.

“Wait, Y/N come on, let’s slow down,” he offers seriously. You jerk your hand away from his.

“No I think I want a drink,” you tell him pointedly before digging around and pulling up another carbonated beverage. You crack the can open and smile to Yoongi, “Cheers.”

You down half the can in one gulp and Yoongi again grabs at your arm to pull the drink away from you.

“Fuck off Yoongi,” you step away from him and look back at Taehyung, whose eyeing you up and down. Maybe you’ll have this one tonight. Yoongi notices the way you’re practically drooling over Taehyung and he rolls his eyes.

Yoongi says something in Taehyung’s ear before he nods to the older brother, giving you one last glance, and walking away from the two of you. Your mouth falls open.

“Are you fucking kidding me Yoongi? I wanted to talk to him,” you pout and cross your arms.

“I think you wanted to do a little more than talk,” he narrows his gaze, “Come on, finish that drink and be done—“

His sentence breaks when he notices your gaze shift behind of his back, your face falling at whatever you’re staring at. He looks over his shoulder and sees Jungkook walk into the kitchen, seemingly looking for something to drink. Yoongi looks back at you and the way your gaze softens, your lip nearly trembling at the sight—Yoongi begins to piece what he was suspecting together.

He steps close to you, leaving little to no room to breath, “Is it Jungkook?” He asks you. Yoongi hadn’t said anything when you spilled what was on your mind to him—but he had an inkling that your said “guy troubles” were over someone he knew very well.

“What?” Your gaze breaks from Jungkook, your heart settling when you see he’s alone and not with her. He hasn’t spotted you himself yet.

“The guy you told me about… it’s Jungkook isn’t it?” He asks again. Your head is spinning but once you realize what Yoongi is referring to, you swear it sobers you up some.

“How do you know that?” Your face drops, “What did Mina tell you—“

“She didn’t tell me anything,” he cuts you off. “Am I right?”

You look back over at Jungkook who is talking with some other brothers before you begin to nod slowly.

“Yeah, it is,” you say slowly, trying to control your breathing and your emotions all at once. Jungkook was all you wanted and seeing him standing there looking breathtaking as ever—your heart ached for him. “Why is he here with his ex?” You ask him.

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows, “Is he?” He looks behind him once more, but doesn’t see her so he wonder’s if you’re that drunk you’re seeing things.

“I saw them together, like five minutes ago,” you say. “Do you know if they’re here together?” Your voice is desperate and rushed.

He shakes his head slowly, “No I don’t know…”

Your jaw clenches the longer you look at Jungkook and you feel your blood boiling but your heart skipping beats simultaneously.

“I should talk to him,” you announce.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Y/N come on,” he laughs, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

You nod your head, “Yeah… yeah I do,” you give him a flat smile and before Yoongi can stop you, you are marching your way over where Jungkook stands with his mates.

As if you’re a magnet, Jungkook’s eyes immediately fall onto your approaching frame and he shifts uncomfortably when he sees the small perk of your boobs from your shirt. You approach the group with a small smile.

“Hey guys,” you say, “Jungkook.”

“Y/N hey,” he says with an uneasy tone, “Guys do you know Y/N?” He asks his friends and you nearly roll your eyes. You needed to speak to him—alone—not with these goons around.

“Jungkook do you have a lighter?” You ask him as nonchalant as you could in your intoxicated state.

“Uh,” he feels around his back pockets, “Yeah, here,” he hands it over to you but you only stare at his hand without taking it.

“Come outside with me?” You give him a weak smile and ignore the pointed stares from the other guys standing around you. Jungkook hesitantly pulls back the lighter before nodding.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll talk to you guys later,” he dimisses himself and he grabs your hand to pull you outside. Though he doesn’t intertwine your fingers, his touch alone is enough to send flames through your veins.

He leads you onto the all too familiar back balcony where hardly anyone else is outside. Perhaps the chilly, autumn weather being that culprit for that or the party is just too good no one wants to venture elsewhere. Either way, you were glad no one else was around you and Jungkook right now.

You lean against the balcony, pulling out a cigarette from your bra—a clichéd classic. You put the cigarette between your lips before Jungkook pulls it out of your mouth.

“Hey! What the hell—“

“Don’t do that nasty shit,” he scolds before pulling out some of Juul-like device from his front pocket, “Here,” he hands it to you and you gladly take it from him. You inhale the strawberry—you weren’t quite sure due to your drunken state—vapor once, twice, and then a third time before you hand it back to your onlooker.

“Thanks,” you say shooting him a lazy smile. You full take in his appearance as he’s dressed in light denim jeans and a sweatshirt that’s a least a size too big for his frame.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” his voice is low and timid. You sway side to side slightly as you get lost in druken thought.

“Yoongi invited me,” you answer him bluntly. He’s not standing too close to you as he’s got about a foot in between you.

“Oh,” he mutters, his eyes looking away from yours briefly.

“You haven’t texted me you know,” the liquid courage was strong with that one. Jungkook’s face contorts as he obviously wasn’t expecting your statement. He tries to say something but you cut him off. “Have I done something?”

Jungkook notices the way your eyes are glassy and the way your lip quivers when you ask the question. It makes a sharp pain shoot up his chest into his throat. He’s cornered and he has no idea what to say.

“No,” he finally says something after a too long silence, “You haven’t done anything.”

“Why are you here with her?” The question that’s been hanging on your drunken tongue finally comes out.

“We’re not here together,” he says almost defensively.

You narrow your eyes at him, “Then what are you doing Jungkook? You can talk to your ex but not me?”

Jungkook knows you are drunker than you need to be and that this isn’t a conversation that should be held right here, right now. After all, he didn’t know if anyone could be listening in on the conversation.

“Y/N I should you take home, you’re really drunk right—“

“Why so you can fuck me and then leave again?” You spit your words at him. You wanted him to know how awful he made you feel last week.

“No Y/N—“

“Because I’m sick and tired of that Jungkook,” you pause and there are now tears threatening to spill out of your eyes, “I just thought that n-now it would b-be different,” anger laces through your words and Jungkook can’t ignore it this time. “You’re fucking cum was still inside of me when you left,” you seethe your words and Jungkook flinches some.

“Please Y/N can I take you home? We shouldn’t do this right here,” he says as a stray tear falls down your cheek. “Fuck no, please don’t cry, it’s okay,” he steps closer to you and pulls you into a hug.

“J-Jungkook,” you mutter into his chest and try to hold in the rest of your tears. As drunk as you were, you knew he was right and that you two shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Your arms are tight around his torso, “Will you take me home?”

He nods, “Of course.”

Everything going on in Jungkook’s head was raging full speed right now. He’s thinking about you, his now ex-girlfriend, the cheating—it’s all too overwhelming. But with you in his arms threatening to spill tears everywhere, his heart is pulled in your direction and he just wants to get you home safe. Jungkook manages to call an Uber with you hanging off of his arm and he escorts you out front to ignore from going back inside. He knew you would be embarassed being seen like this and thankfully he cared about you and he wasn’t going to let that happen. Your Uber arrives and as soon as you get in the backseat, you rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder, your eyes closing into a snooze.

_____

You’re stumbling up the stairs to your apartment with Jungkook holding you up with ease. Despite his slim frame, he was all muscle and you were pretty easy to keep up. Your short lived nap in the Uber went by all too quick before Jungkook was pulling you from the car. You felt slightly sick, but you tried your best to hold down whatever was rumbling in your tummy as he opened the door to your apartment.

You nearly tumble over when you begin to walk towards the kitchen, but once again, Jungkook is there to catch you.

“Hey hey,” he pulls you up from your waist, “Be careful okay?” His eyes meet yours and you feel like you could melt into his arms. He rests you against your kitchen counter and as he tries to walk away you pull against him to keep him close to you.

“Kookie,” the nickname drips from your mouth with a pout as you place your hands on his upper chest and shoulders, “I’m really drunk…” you rest your head against his chest.

“You don’t say punkin?” He laughs resting his head on your head but you soon pull away quickly.

“You don’t get to call me that,” you press, pushing him away from you some, “Not after the w-way you’ve t-treated me.”

His face softens at your words and he looks down at the space between you two. He grabs your hands gently before saying, “You need some water… and maybe some food.”

You want to protest but your dry mouth says otherwise, so you nod in response. You lean against the counter to steady yourself as Jungkook steps away to get a glass of water for you. He also takes a look in your cabinets to see if you have any quick food to fix. He finds one cup of instant ramen left in your cabinet and he decides to fix that for you quickly. You watch his every move and despite how drunk you are, you hated being like this, this was not fun. You felt like a child as he took care of you and frankly, you probably didn’t deserve it, but you were inwardly grateful nonetheless.

Jungkook mixes in the flavor packet quickly before stepping back over to you. You smile at the cup in his hand and you’re about to snatch it from him before he pulls it back.

“It’s hot,” he says giving you a watchful eye.

“So am I, we’re a perfect match,” you say seriously and he only rolls his eyes in response. He sets down the cup before turning back to you, placing his hands firmly on your waist. You’re about to ask what he’s doing until he’s hoisting you up to sit on the counter, him standing between your legs. He grabs the ramen once again before he picks up a small amount of the noodles, holding it up towards your mouth. You stare at the curly noodles for a few moments before Jungkook speaks.

“If you’re just gonna stare at them, I’ll eat them,” he says and you shake your head quickly, taking the noodles in your mouth in one gulp. The taste is just what you needed to coat your vodka intruded tongue and stomach. You half moan at the the food when you swallow it and Jungkook watches every move you make. He takes his own bite of the noodles and you nearly scold him but remember he fixed them, so he should have some.

“Thank you,” you tell him in a low voice as you continue to share the noodles. You soon feel the drunkenness slowly move out of your body, more coherent thoughts invading your headspace.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responds after he finishes chewing. The longing look on your face is obvious and Jungkook curses to himself when he notices it. He looks down at the almost empty cup, “You want the last bite?”

You don’t even have to debate it in your head before you nod quickly with a smile. Jungkook returns a soft smile before feeding you the last of the noodles. Your stomach feels a lot more settled now and you feel like you could have a deep conversation with Jungkook right now, but honestly—you just wanted to go to bed and you wanted him to stay with you.

“I wanna go to bed,” you mumble playing with the strings of his hoodie aimlessly

“Come on,” he says grabbing ahold of one of your hands to pull you from the counter. Before you two can go anywhere though, you speak again.

“Stay with me tonight,” you plead into his dark eyes. His face is blank and unreadable, but he squeezes your hand tightly.

“Okay.”

Your admiration for Jungkook only heightens when he undresses you carefully and slips over a large t-shirt over your frame and ties your hair up for you since you claimed your arms were too tired to do so. He even brushed your teeth for you and you were sure in this moment, he was angel from heaven on earth. You practically throw yourself on your bed with him following in the sheets after you. In all the time you two had known each other and hooked up—never once had you stayed at each other’s places. With the then ominous threat of his girlfriend, it was impossible, but right now—this was all you needed. You cuddle up to Jungkook’s bare chest, one of his arms snaking around you.

“Goodnight Kook,” you mutter closing your eyes as you listen to the slowed heartbeat in his chest.

“Goodnight punkin,” he breathes out heavily, staring down at your limp frame. He laughs to himself—you hadn’t even heard him as you had passed out that quickly. He watches you for a few more moments, focusing on your breathing as a way for him to relax. He almost couldn’t believe he was actually here right now, spending the night with you—after all this time. But at the end of the day, he couldn’t help but still feel saddened and bothered by his thoughts—he felt like a horrible person and he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get over it.

_____

You woke up early with a groan, a slight hangover pulsing through your head. Jungkook soon followed you in waking up and you nearly forgot that he stayed the night with you. His close proximity from behind of you was unfamiliar but comforting. You had leaned back into his chest as his arms pulled you closer to inhale your scent. It was as if the two of you were making up for lost time of being able to stay with each other because not even 10 minutes after waking up, you found yourself sinking onto his thick and pulsing cock.

“Mm, fuck,” Jungkook moans as he watches himself disappear inside of you. Your fingernails claw into his shoulders and his hands grip your waist tightly through the t-shirt you were wearing. You couldn’t wait long enough to take the material off but Jungkook liked it as if gave him some leverage.

“Jungkook, oh my god,” you bottom out and it doesn’t take you long to start moving up and down his length. Jungkook’s head falls back against your headboard as he helps you move along him at a steady pace.

He felt so good—better than you even remember. Your insides are sensitive and you feel him everywhere, taking up space you didn’t even know existed. Your moans are loud and your chest is heating up, as is his. Jungkook’s hands crawl beneath the cotton material and grip your hips where they bend against him to shove himself as deep as he possibly could. You slow yourself against him as you lean foreword to rest your forehead against his own. Both of your lips connect at the same time, gentle yet harsh as you cover each other’s whines.

One of Jungkook’s hand trails down to your front to find your clit which he does with ease—he could do it in his sleep as he knew your body like the back of your hand. You break the kiss with a loud groan as he begins to rub you, your toes curling at the sensation.

“Fuck Kookie,” you lean back against his thighs as you begin to pick up your pace, desperate to reach your high.

“Feel good punkin?” He manages to get out as he relentlessly chases his hips with yours, his thumb moving against you the way you like it.

“Y-yes, yes,” you breathe out and you’re almost there, “God, I’m gonna co-come.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop and soon your climax hits you like a wall and it’s a good one to say the least. You clench around his length in pulses which nearly sends himself over the edge and he watches the way your eyes close tightly to relish in the feeling. Without a warning, Jungkook manages to flip you two over, him beginning quick thrusts in and out of you. Your are over sensitive but it feels so good as you wrap your legs around his back to shove him deeper. His head is craned in your neck, his lips and teeth nipping the soft skin, as another hand is placed around your jaw to hold your head down.

“God you’re always so tight,” he says in disbelief, “I fucking love your pussy,” he groans into your ear and with his words you can already feel another orgasm coming soon. “It’s all mine, yeah?” He lifts his head to look into your eyes and you nod quickly.

“Yours,” you choke out as he gives you a particularly hard thrust.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he says, “You gonna come with me again punkin?”

You nod quickly, “Yes, please Jungkook.”

With three more thrusts in you and you grinding yourself against his pelvic area, you both reach a climax together. He’s loud and it’s like music to your ears when he stalls inside of you to feel you clamping around him again.

He’s breathing heavy and he looks at you again before kissing you deeply again. You return the kiss instantly, your hands tangling themselves into his hair. You don’t know how much longer the two of you kiss before he’s pulling out and away from you. He flops down beside of you and you don’t ask to cuddle up to him as you turn on your side and throw an arm around him.

Silence engulfs the room—an unspoken tension between the two of you. You stare out you window while Jungkook stares at your ceiling, breaths heavy from both of you. You could fall back to sleep but you would rather not, so you look at him after a few moments. His eyes follow yours but he still doesn’t say anything.

“You okay?” You finally ask him breaking the ice.

“I don’t know,” he’s being honest. He looks at you and sees a future, but he’s not sure he he can get passed his previous mistakes.

You frown at him, “Please just tell me what’s bothering you.”

He closes his eyes briefly before pushing himself up on your bed. You pull your blanket over him as he sits up against the headboard. Your eyes stay focussed on his face as you adjust your body to look towards him. He fumbles with your hands in his lap and he seems like something is agonizing him. You can’t help but get frustrated towards him. He’s never been like this in the few months you’ve known each other. He seems more distressed now than he ever did when he was sneaking behind his girlfriend’s back.

“Why were you with her last night?” The question tumbles from your mouth before you can think about it. As drunk as you were, you vividly remembered seeing the two of them together and the thought made you sick.

“We didn’t come together if that’s what you wanna know,” he speaks timidly.

“That’s not what I asked you,” you say matter of factly. He sighs in deep frustration before tilting his head slightly.

“I—“ he stops for a second, “I just saw her there and I thought I should say something to her,” his excuse is lame but he didn’t even know the exact reason why he went up to his ex.

“Jungkook come on,” you shake your head at him. He narrows his eyes at you and he sighs again. ‘

“Y/N I really don’t need you questioning me about her like this, it’s none of your business,” he drops your hands from his with some force before leaning his head back against the bed frame.

Your mouth slightly drops open, “Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? Last time I checked this is part of my business. You’ve been fucking me for months behind her back and you just recently broke up with her so I think this is my damn business,” your words are harsh and angry. Perhaps Jungkook’s biggest flaw was his inability to be a little selfless at times and it was instances like this that prove that to you.

“Well what the hell do you want me to say Y/N?” his tone raises slightly.

“I just want you to be honest with me Jungkook!” You raise yours right back, “What the fuck is going on with you? And the what the fuck is going on with us? I’m sick of being treated like an object by you,” you have to steady your breath as you feel your emotions taking over you.

Jungkook shakes his head at you, “You know you’re not just an object to me, don’t fucking say that,” he spits just as angrily as you, “I don’t even know what’s going on with myself Y/N so how am I supposed to tell you?”

You don’t immediately respond because you’re not sure what to say. You keep pressing him about his feelings but if he’s confused do you really have a right to question him just yet?

“Y/N listen to me,” he grabs your hand reluctantly again, “I care about you so much, but I also still care about her—and I always will. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for what I did to her, she didn’t deserve what I did…”

You feel like you’re going to get sick as the tears come to your eyes. He notices and wipes them away just as quick as they came.

“I wish I would have never dragged you into my shit, there isn’t enough apologies that I can come up with for you,” his words are sweet and genuine and you feel like you two are finally getting somewhere.

“Jungkook you know I care about you too,” your voice breaks off at the end, “I don’t care about how we met or the situation we were put in—“

“But I do,” he interrupts, “I think about it all the fucking time. What if we met when I didn’t have a girlfriend? What if we met before I even met her? But we didn’t and I ruined my relationship.”

His words are hurtful, but you know it’s the truth so there isn’t much else you can add. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on his roots a little too hard.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask him trying to ignore his harsh tone. He closes his eyes briefly, as if he’s not sure what to say next, but what he does say causes your heart to drop in the pit of your stomach.

“She found out Y/N,” he finally lets his secret slip past his tongue. “She fucking found out after I broke up with her okay? I’ve never seen someone look more hurt than when she confronted me about and yeah, I feel fucking horrible.”

“H-how?” You asked shakily.

“She said someone she knew saw us at a party together one night,” he stares at his hands, sounding upset and covered with guilt. Yoongi was right after all. “So sorry if I seem fucking upset,” he’s being sarcastic with his words.

You don’t say anything else. You only stare at his hunched over frame and suddenly, you were torn between two paths. You wished that you had never met Jungkook and created this mess with him. On the other hand, you were glad Jungkook was in your life, no matter the circumstance.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you,” he says after your moment of silence.

“Don’t apologize,” you shake your head. “I should be the one apologizing.”

He looks at you once again, “Don’t say that. It’s all my fault.”

You genuinely feel bad for him. While towards the end of his relationship with her, he obviously wasn’t happy and wanted other things, he is still obviously hurt by the situation. You get bold and scoot closer to him, wanting to comfort him as much as possible.

“You know how I feel about you right?” You ask. He nods slowly and you speak again, “I don’t want anything to change between us but Kook, if you need some time and someone to talk to you know I’m here.”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I wasn’t lying when I said all those things to you.” You let your mind drift to his words that have been drilled in your head for months now.

I want to be with you.

You’re everything I’ve wanted.

I promise it’ll be over soon.

Don’t doubt my feelings for you.

“I know that,” you say honestly.

He pauses grabbing your hand gently, “I just don’t think I should jump into this right now when I’m still trying to figure out what to do myself.”

You nod slowly trying to take in and understand his words.

“I get it,” your voice sounds weak and you let go of his hand. “I just don’t want to be dragged around any longer Jungkook…”

He inhales deeply before nodding, “I know… it’s not fair to you I get that,” his tone is rushed, “But I promise I’m gonna try to fix this.”

“What’s there to fix?” You feel angry all of the sudden.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “Y/N please don’t get mad, I don’t want you angry with me,” he pleads. “I want to be to be with you, I really do, but I also need you to be patient.”

For once, Jungkook is being the sensible one between the two of you. You soon understand you don’t really feel like you have that much of a reason to be angry with him. It was only selfish to do so. After all, hadn’t you been selfish long enough?

“Okay,” you glance at him, “Just please don’t leave me in the dark again.”

He sends you a small smile, pulling you into a deep hug, “I’ll try not to.”

Jungkook was being honest. He knew he had dug himself into a hole that was going to take a long time to crawl out from. He felt absolutely horrible for what he had done to you and his now ex-girlfriend. As holds you close and tight for clarity, he knows what he wants but he isn’t sure if that’s what is best for you. He felt what he did wasn’t acceptable of forgiveness—no matter how much you said you didn’t care and as much as he wanted to make a home out of you, he wasn’t sure he could let himself ruin you any further.

750 notes · View notes

achliegh · 3 years

Text

Olive and Otto

Masterlist :)

@domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

This is an AU still set in the SW universe but a little to the right and maybe down the block. I want Leo to have a little secret!

This is the 22nd chapter of this little series I have and it's a little spicy. Enjoy!

FAMILY SKATE! Part 2 and Final Chapter!

I just wanted to say thank you all for reading this, it makes me so happy because my writing feel like garbage to me but y'all treat it like its precocious and I have cried happy tears over things y'all have said. I just can't thank y'all enough.

TW/CW: Smut, Drama, Arguing, Questioning Sexuality, Food, Panic attack

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Family Skate was booming, everyone was a little taken back at the two hurricanes with adorable old timey names. Those kids tore up the ice, for only being three those kids could probably out skate most the team. Remus’ little brother, Julian, Loved Otto. Like he didn’t leave his side the entire time they skated. Olive would skate around with Kuny, she was so fascinated when he would speak Russian to her. She was absolutely taken by the giant Russian and she wanted to understand this new language so bad that Kuny taught her some bad words and Sergei told him off for it.

Sometimes the kids would be talking to someone and just randomly switch to either French or Spanish without even realizing it and then get upset when Leo or INK would tell them to “Speak English, Sweetheart”. Otto and Marc were skating together when Otto had a dizzy spell and fell over, everyone froze for a second remembering what Leo said about the little boy earlier.

“You okay?” Marc held his hand out and was looking at Otto worried because his new friend just fell over for no reason. Yeah he was younger than him but Marc had never seen someone just drop like that. Otto nodded and used Marc’s hand to stand up.

“I want to sit” They skated over to where INK was sitting on the bench talking with Eloise and Celeste, Otto was very good at knowing when he hit his limits for the day and today was the first time since his surgery that he had been on the ice for more than a few laps with his dad. He crawled up between Eloise and Celeste, he kicked his skates a little as he watched everyone skate. “Ma-maw, why can’t I live here? I could have friends.” He looked up at his grandma who was stunned by what he said and so was Celeste. “No one likes me at school at home.” He didn’t understand why it was a big deal that he didn’t have many friends. He did enjoy all the kids here though.

The Weasley kids were fun and had treated him like he wasn’t a downer. The Dumais' treated him like a little brother and some of the other kids whose names he didn’t remember played tag with him and didn’t go easy. He didn’t want to go home.

“Oh honey, you’ll be up here all summer. Then you can play with all the other kids then. Just enjoy your time here, you have three more days with your daddy before he has to work and your mama has to go to work back home.” Eloise was just trying to talk him into enjoying his time now but she wasn’t expecting him to talk about friends, he never did. He was like Leo in that sense, kept to himself but was very observant.

“If you want I can give your maman my phone number and you can call Marc anytime after school.” Celeste petted his hair and he leaned into her touch. He nodded, having a big ole smile on his face and his cheeks were a little red, he thought Celeste was so pretty.

Olive was racing Charlie and beat him for the third time, he looked exhausted but she was still revving to go. She was incredibly fast but she was also very small, she skated around the outside and caught up with Leo. She somehow got between Leo and Finn, she grabbed each of their hands and let them pull her.

“Daddy, did you see how fast I was! I beat Charlie!” She got listed up by them and laughed as they put her down, not noticing the absolutely lovesick expression Logan was watching them with. “I want to play hockey someday! I want to be just like you! Oh, daddy do you have a boyfriend yet? Mama wants to get married to June!” She looks up at him when he laughs at Finn's face who is firetruck red. She really doesn’t want her daddy to be lonely anymore, it makes her sad. She was really angry when he left but when he facetimes mama the first time crying, she wasn’t angry anymore, she was scared. She can’t take care of him so who will.

“Olive, what would you say if I had two boyfriends?”

“Whoa! That would be so cool! You would never be sad!” She smiles flashing those incredible dimples and hears Bill calling for her. “I gotta go race, by Daddy!” She skates off leaving a laughing Leo and a red Finn to call Logan over.

After the Pick-up game Olive was watching the entire time while Ott had fallen asleep with his head on Celeste's lap. Everyone got changed and showered, after they piled into cars and drove to Dumo's. INK can’t cook for shit so she was sitting on the couch chatting with the team while Leo and his mother cooked in the kitchen with Celeste. Wyatt was talking to Pascal and Arthur in the dad way, with a few signatures on his shoulder.

She was watching everyone when a pregnant redhead sat neck to her, she groaned a little and looks at INK.

“How far along are you”

“About 6 months” She smiles at INK and rubs her stomach. “I’m Lily by the way, Pots is my lover.” She nods towards said lover who is being cheered on as he chugs some kombucha. INK snorts at him and laughs. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Have twins, I can’t even imagine the strain it took on you.”

“I had to drop out of school and was bed ridden for the last three months of my pregnancy. It was really hard but Leo never left my side, the stupid idiot sweetheart.” She smiles and rolls her eyes. “I never wanted kids when I was younger because I was afraid I would end up like my parents, then Leo and I did some stuff and it was probably a less than 1% chance that I would get pregnant and it happened.” Olive ran past them with her Daddy's Jersey on her that was much to big, she almost trips on it and laughs as Adele chases her playfully. “I can saw that those three definitely saved my life.”

“Three?”

“Yeah, Olive, Otto, and Leo. I couldn’t have done anything without him. He is the best dad, and he supports those two with everything he has. We also don’t want to put them into the public eye until they can choose for themselves if they want to be followed like that.” She takes a sip of her wine and looks at Lily. “I don’t really have any advice to help you because the last few months I mostly slept and cried. If you need me to get anything for you I will though.”

“I just want to get to know you, you’re someone who has raised two adorable children and you’re still smoking hot!” That surprises a laugh out of her and Lily join in the laughing after a minute.

Leo walks out of the kitchen. “Let's eat y’all!” Finn and Logan kiss his cheek as they walk into the kitchen to eat, Pots and Nado also smack big wet kisses on his cheeks as they walk past. He shoves them and follows everyone else.

“No, Otto you know you know you can’t have that.” He takes a peanut butter bar away from him and shakes his head. “I don’t feel like going to the emergency room tonight.” Otto is allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, he seems to forget how serious it is to eat stuff that might kill him. Usually no one has any form of nuts in the house, but this isn’t their house.

The child he just took a treat away from starts to cry and he sighs, walking over to where the treats are he asks celeste what's in each one and grabs a double chocolate brownie for Otto and hands it to him. “Don’t eat it until your plate is empty, okay?” Otto instantly stops crying and nods running off to join his sister. Shaking his head he feels arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You’re so good with them” Leo smiles and looks over to his dad. He looks so proud of him, he kisses his son's head and pats his shoulder. “I’m gonna go eat with Pascal Dumais” Leo snorts as his dad giddily goes to sit next to his teammate.

As he looks around he has never felt more at home, INK and June were talking with Lily and Natalie. Olive and Otto are eating and talking at the kids tables, Finn and Logan are openly flirting and stealing cute glances at him. He felt so calm and like he could breathe.

Suddenly Pots jumps up.

“They are the picture in your stall!”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #remus lupin #lumosinlove #sweater weather #sirius black #coast to coast #jackson nadeau #kuny #james potter

56 notes · View notes

lustinglilac · 4 years

Note

Hey 😊 can I please have “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me” with Angel please.🥰

Aw, for sure 🥰!

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the hell out of me.”

GIF BY: @angels-reyes 🖤

“You’re telling me you‘re going out of your way to do something for someone that’s not yourself?” EZ clarifies, looking at Angel incredulously.

Angel merely rolls his eyes, “Shut up, EZ. It’s a fuckin’ favor. For a friend.”

“That you love?” EZ questions, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Fuck no—“ His own voice failing to convince himself. Was he really in love with this girl?

EZ sighs, “Three years, Angel, and neither one of you have even made a move on each other.” He shrugs, clapping his brother on the back and heading into his trailer.

“What’s that supposed to fuckin’ mean?” He calls out behind his brother, who was already inside.

She was the epitome of sunshine; she always made sure he was okay and vice versa. The one downside to it was that she worked for Miguel— more specifically as his secretary.

When she’d told him she got the job, he was less than thrilled, not wanting to put her around anymore danger than she was already in being around the MC.

“How much he payin’ you?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop himself. He would’ve paid her all the money in the world if it meant she wouldn’t take the job.

“Angel, I don’t think that’s—“ Before she could finish, he cuts her off, realizing his previous question.

“You’re right. Wasn’t my position to ask.” He blows out the last of his smoke, dropping the cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his boot.

Her brows furrow slightly, looking across from her at her best friend, “I-I told you the news because I thought you’d be happy for me, Angel.”

He scoffs slightly, “I am it’s just, I don’t want you around him because—“

“Because he runs a cartel?” She crosses her arms over her chest, finishing his sentence for him.

“Oh— so you know?” His expression slightly stunned as he looked at her.

“Of course I know, Angel, I’m not oblivious. It’s just that the job pays well and I need the money. Whatever— you don’t get it.” She sighs defeatedly, not wanting to make a scene in the scrapyard.

“I think your ride’s ‘ere.” Angel nods his head in the direction of a blacked out Cadillac rolling into the junkyard.

She wipes at the corner of her eye, sniffling quietly, “Goodbye, Angel. Stay safe.”

Angel watches as Nestor helps her into the SUV, physically wanting to punch something at the fact that she works for them.

“Angel— Yo! Angel!” Coco yells out from behind him wrench in hand, “We got fuckin’ work to do. C’mon, man.”

“I’m gonna ask her to work here. With us.” Angel grunts, pushing past Coco to the nearest bike.

Coco chuckles, “What’s she gonna do? Work here for fuckin’ free? We barely get by Angel, it ain’t gonna happen.” He shakes his head at his friend’s suggestion.

“I’ll give her my fuckin’ cut if I have to, Coco. I don’t fucking care.” Angel makes it a valid point, showing him he could care less about what he made working for Romero Brothers Scrap if it meant his best friend would benefit from it way more.

“Suit yourself, hermano. All I’m sayin’ is nobody’s touchin’ my money.” Coco shrugs, going back to whatever he was working on.

•••

“Miguel, your paperwork’s all done.” She grins slightly at her boss, handing him three manila envelopes filled with important doctrines of his. She was excited to go home considering she’d finished her tasks for the day.

“Thank you very much.” He smiles, “Tell me— what do you do at that scrapyard all day anyway?”

The question catching her offguard as she fumbled her brain for an answer, “Well, Mr. Galindo, I have a lot of friends there, for one. I just go there when I’m bored, ya know.” She answers softly, thinking back to her conversation with Angel.

“Interesting. And they treat you well—“ Before he could finish his sentence, she was talking.

“Yes, they do, actually. Very.” She smiles tightly. “If that’ll be all, I’d like to go now.”

“Oh, yes, you’re good to go. Thank you for your help, see you tomorrow.” Miguel’s typical smirk playing on his lips as he went back to his work.

•••

The second she opened the door to her home, her keys nearly dropped to the floor at the figure sitting in her living room, flicking through random TV channels.

“Angel! What the fuck?!” Her voice breathless as she puts a hand on her chest, heart racing.

Angel snickers, “Oh hey, thought you wouldn’t mind me stoppin’ by.”

She glares at him, “I gave you that key for emergencies, Angel.” She puts her things down, walking to stand in front of the TV.

“Yeah so? I fuckin’ missed you— that’s my emergency.” He states as if she was supposed to know that.

She rolls her eyes at him, “Oh really? ‘Cause this morning you were talking shit about—“

Angel stands abruptly, reaching her in two long strides. His smell alone was intoxicating, filling her space as he looked at her with those dark brown eyes. And for the first time in a long time, Angel was nervous and she’d never seen Angel nervous.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“I want you to come work at the scrapyard.” He takes her hand slowly, squeezing it the tiniest bit.

“I-I already work for Miguel, I can’t just leave.” Her mind racing with a million thoughts as he just stood there.

“You can. And you’ll come work with me. You can be whatever the fuck you wanna be— I promise.” A moment of silence passes between the two of them before he speaks again.

“And ‘cause I think I’m in love with you and that scares the fuckin’ hell outta me, bébé.” Angel finally breathes.

Her mouth agape, trying to put together the right words to say, “Wha— I’m—“

“Speechless, right? Yeah, I usually have that effect on the ladies.” He winks, making her hit his chest.

“Shut up.” She laughs, “I was trying to say I’ll do it. I’ll come work with you at the junkyard.”

“So— you’re just gonna ignore me confessing my love to you?” He pouts.

“I was getting there. I only took the job to make some money but, I don’t think it’s worth it when I have to choose between my best friend and my work. And I choose you. A million times, I’d choose you.” She smiles, standing on her toes to place a kiss to Angel’s cheek.

“Same here, querida.” Angel smiles wide, turning before she can get to his cheek, rough lips meeting soft ones. They pull back, slightly breathless and definitely stunned that they’ve waited so long to do that.

“Work starts at 9 AM sharp. Don’t be late, okay?” He smirks, pecking her lips once more before he leaves.

Typical Angel. She shakes her head, locking the door behind him.

#angel reyes #angel reyes drabble #angel reyes imagine #clayton cardenas #mayans mc #Lilac Prompt Event

142 notes · View notes

zukosdumbbitch · 4 years

Text

fire isn’t just destruction

work on ao3

pairing: zuko/gn reader

warnings: none

wordcount: 1162

request (from ao3): If youre looking for ideas, a firebender reader who hates being a firebender (maybe they disguised themself as a non-bender to join the gaang?) and learns to accept their bending with zuko's help.

a/n: i plan on doing a part 2 for this <3

part 2

It was getting dark and you were the last one still sitting by the campfire. It was now long extinguished, thanks to Zuko having snuffed it out with a flick of his wrist. You watched the ash flake away in the soft breeze, some embers still glowing in the old wood.

You wished you could just . . . be. You were a firebender, too; however, your own state wasn’t a big fan of you. You had joined an underground group of resistors that worked within the Fire Nation in your early teens. Growing up poor was just enough to radicalize you against the Fire Nation’s imperialism, and you were sure your parents hadn’t even noticed your sudden absence as you left during the day to aid the group. At that point, you were mostly petitioning for the release of unlawfully arrested citizens and giving out food and medical treatment to the homeless. But Ozai did not tolerate any form of resistance, not even this peaceful type. Your group was very clever in their ways.

Shit hit the fan when some members that had managed their way into government were exposed. Those that had gotten such positions would use their power to interrupt military movement, but they had to be extremely careful. Turns out, they weren’t careful enough.

Everyone with so much as suspected affiliation had to flee. They had a bounty on their heads. The Fire Nation liked making examples of “treasonous” people. And you were identified as one of them.

And, long story short, now you were here, at the formerly Crowned Prince’s beach house with Aang, Fire Nation public enemy number one. You never once mentioned your nationality to the Gaang, however; you were afraid they’d think you were a spy. And you could hardly firebend, anyway. You weren’t trained in firebending. You stared at the burnt wood of the campfire mournfully, not being able to summon anything controlled; nothing more than a flicker at the snap of your fingers was safe enough for you to handle.

Your middle finger clicked against the edge of your palm and you watched the small orange light appear just above your thumb. You sighed, releasing the clench in your hand, making the flame disappear. You snapped your fingers again to summon a new flame, maybe a bigger one, and a slightly larger flame crackled above your hand.

“I didn’t know you could firebend.” The raspy voice ripped you from your thoughts, your heart jumped clear out of your chest as you whipped around towards its source. You felt as though you’d jumped six feet into the air, your small flame extinguishing in a flash.

“Fuck, Zuko, you scared me.” You scorned him; a meek, apologetic smile adorning his face.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, hand coming to the back of his neck.

You sighed. You trusted Zuko. You knew how Fire Nation brainwashing worked - you grew up with it. You could only imagine how far deep they had a royal sunk into their propaganda. And Zuko managed to overcome it. You decided it was just in his nature to be good, what with him going completely out of his way to help the Gaang. He seemed as though he had a good heart, but was never once allowed to express and nurture it.

“Don’t tell anybody. No one knows.” You grumbled. Your hands came to cover your face.

“Really? How’s that?” Zuko’s head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Never came up,” You looked at him, palms away from your face and facing up as you gave a small shrug.

He simply looked at you.

“I can barely firebend, okay. And I didn’t want them to think I was a spy or something. They probably even think I’m Earth Nation. How am I supposed to tell them that hey, actually I’m from the presently most destructive nation in the world and also I’m a glorified arsonist?” You huffed, tendrils of smoke curling from your nostrils. Zuko looked a bit taken aback. Before he could speak, you mumbled, “I don’t want them to get mad at me.” You looked down at your feet.

Zuko sat next to you. “I don’t think they’ll be mad at you.” He said softly.

You were distressed. A twelve year old is responsible for saving the world from Ozai? The leader of your own country? Ridiculous. Your face came back into your hands. “Kids shouldn’t be fighting wars. Sometimes I feel ashamed of my own element.”

A warm hand came to your shoulder. “Fire isn’t just destruction, you know. We need it for light, warmth, to cook food. Things weren’t always like this.” Zuko soothed.

You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch. You nodded in agreement. Zuko's arm came around your shoulders and you rested your head against his neck.

“We probably shouldn’t be the ones responsible for fixing the world, but that’s what it’s come to. Now all we can do is fight and restore balance. You are more than where you’ve come from, take it from me.” You felt his voice rumble through his throat.

“I wish I could've come with and saw the dragons,” You pouted.

"I can always teach you firebending. I'm sure Aang will be thrilled to have someone else to train with." Zuko suggested, hand still rubbing your bicep comfortingly.

You smiled in spite of yourself. "Are you really that miserable of a sparring partner?"

"No - !" Zuko started in an offended tone before pausing to choose his next words in a less heated state. "He does get sick of me ordering him and only him around. A classmate would be good for him."

You shook your head in amusement, remembering Aang's pouts and how he complained that no one else had homework when Sokka and Zuko left to The Boiling Rock. A twelve year old is still a twelve year old, even if he's the avatar. A grimmer thought crossed your mind, however, as you thought about the Gaang witnessing your power. “I don’t know how to tell them, though. I’m really afraid they might get upset.” You knew in your heart that they wouldn’t, but your anxiety never ceases its barking.

Zuko nuzzled your hair. "They won't get upset, not after everything you've done for them." He replied softly.

You could feel his breath fan across your scalp, giving you tingles. You could melt into him just then, the two of you alone out in the clear night with his arm around you.

You hummed in agreement and sighed. "We should get to bed. I'll stick around for your training session with Aang tomorrow." You reluctantly pulled yourself from Zuko's grip and began to stand up.

Zuko grinned up at you from where he was still seated. "You're gonna tell them tomorrow?"

"I'll think about it. Right now I just plan on watching you."

Zuko blushed, unsure of how to respond. His stammering thoughts were interrupted by you tugging on his arm.

"C'mon. Bedtime."

#zuko x reader #zuko fluff #zuko imagine #zuko one shot #fluff #gn reader #nyx writes #fic

221 notes · View notes

cami-chats · 3 years

Text

Controlled Explosions

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Warnings: Normal superhero shenanigans

Summary: Tony doesn't go out of his way to create explosions. He just happens to be in a lot of situations where things explode, and that's hardly his fault, is it, Steve?

Five times Tony is the cause of an explosion, and one time someone else tries to be. Written for MTH2020

Read below or on AO3

1. Define 'controlled explosion'

"You said it would be a controlled explosion," Steve said.

"Yeah," Tony said, confused, and still-- if he was being honest-- having a little trouble hearing. He'd been a bit closer to the bomb when it went off than he'd meant to be. "It was."

"That was not controlled!"

At some other time, it would be fascinating to see the differences between Steve in Captain America mode and when he wasn't. When he'd been in Cap-mode, talking to Tony about how setting off the explosion early might be a bad idea, he'd been very calm about it all. Now that he was just Tony's boyfriend, he was kind of freaking out.

Tony blinked at him in confusion. It had been controlled. "The previous location of the bomb would've brought the whole building down. I know you don't really understand chain reactions, but suffice it to say that we saved an entire city block by moving it."

"For fuck's sake, Tony! I told you to go ahead because you made me think it was going to be safe!"

"I never said it was safe. I said that it was safer than letting it go off where it had been placed, which was true."

"You said it would be a controlled explosion!"

"And it was. Maybe you should look up what an uncontrolled explosion looks like," Tony said, patting him on the arm then getting on his tiptoes for a quick kiss before leaving. He needed to take a shower and get some of this grime off. He heard Steve say something in response, but it was too low for him to really make out with his ears still ringing-- and not facing him, so he couldn't read his lips and try to piece it together. He imagined that it was something half-loving and half-derogatory, since that's what Steve usually did when Tony did something dangerous in the field. If it was really important, Steve would say it again.

2. Who knew that artifact would explode?

Despite what some people-- like Steve, Coulson, the rest of the Avengers really-- thought about Tony and his workshop, he did practice safe procedures. What they didn't seem to really understand was that there were situations where he could be safe and shit would still go wrong.

Like this. This was an alien artifact, and Thor was out of contact dealing with royal Asgard business-- presumably; it's not like he'd filled them in, just said that he had to go home and would be back as soon as he could-- so Tony was guessing. He had on thick gloves and goggles, and he wasn't even touching the glowing sphere directly, which was progress that he thought they should be appreciative of. He had tools. Not as easy to work with as his own fingers, but it was still good enough that he'd been able to pry away part of the outside protective, metal shell.

He gingerly placed the tongs on the inside and made to turn it so he could confirm that it was the same all around, but he didn't get the chance. An explosion rocked the workshop, leaving a crater where his table used to be and blowing him halfway across the room.

"Huh," Tony said, then started coughing. Bright side? He still had all his fingers. The tongs he'd been using were vaporized as best he could tell. In fact, everything metal within a foot of the sphere was now gone. Tony's gloves were untouched. He pulled one off and slid the goggles off his face so he could get a better look at them. The lenses were fine, as expected. Most of the components were plastic, but there were a couple places that had metal pins, just to help hold it together. The pins were gone. One firm tug, and the strap would disconnect from the lenses.

Half the team-- the half that had been in the Tower-- came running into the room. Tony gave a half-hearted wave, still coughing.

"What happened?" Natasha asked.

"Well, let's look on the bright side," Tony said roughly, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm still alive." If he'd been closer to it when it went off, it would've taken a chunk out of the arc reactor. Its range had been small enough that he was safe. It was obvious that things hadn't gone as wrong as they could have, so he didn't see why they were looking at him with that much concern. He coughed again. "Maybe I'll call the Fantastic Four to take this one over." He didn't want to, but he hadn't been having any luck with it before it took a bite out of his workshop. If nothing else, it wouldn't instantly kill any of them if they were standing too close. Besides, Reed was pretty good about passing information back to him. And if there was any superhero group he had to work with, he'd choose the Fantastic Four every time.

"Yeah, I don't think that really answered the question," Clint said. "You're lucky Cap's not here, or you'd find yourself wrapped in a blanket before you took another breath."

Tony flipped him off. He should probably go to medical. There hadn't been any smoke, but he was coughing like there had been. What a pain.

3. Oxygen works differently here

Other planets were weird. He could tell, just by breathing, that the air here wasn't what they were used to. The good news was that they were all still alive and were going to stay that way for a while. The Guardians-- short for Guardians of the Galaxy-- were explaining a few things to Steve. Apparently, the villain that had transported them here was one that had beef with the Guardians, and Steve wanted to be prepared in case it happened again.

Tony knew that he was going to have to wait until they were done with the official superhero talk before he had a chance to ask them about atmosphere, gravity, and what it was like to have more than one moon. He also had a few questions about the air, because this was definitely not the cocktail he was used to.

He was feeling... high, almost. It could be any number of things, but higher oxygen levels would be the answer easiest to solve on his own. If he lit a match and it burned bigger than usual, it was oxygen. If it was brighter, it was nitrogen. If it did both or a weird mixture of other stuff, he'd have no idea what it was without taking a sample of the air and analyzing it. Chemistry wasn't his strong point when it came to the sciences, but he knew the basics. Enough to make sense of breathable air, at the very least.

Nothing wrong with a little test. He had a laser in the armor, but that wasn't as predictable as regular fire even though it was easier for him to access. He had a lighter in one of the fingers of the armor, so he held his hand as far away from himself as he could for a better view, and activated it.

It went off like a fucking firework. Tony deactivated the lighter almost as soon as he'd started it, but the damage had been done. "Shit," he bit out, jerking his hand back, but he could tell that his hand had already been injured. The suit was protected from the outside, not the inside, and since it had been his lighter that had started it... yeah. That shit stung.

Even after turning off the lighter, the fire persisted. Tony cocked his head as the flames stayed where it had stared but lasted longer on its own than a fire could on Earth without something to hold onto. Despite knowing that nothing was helping it keep burning, Tony couldn't help but peer at it, trying to find a wick or gas line.

That was a bit more than he'd expected. It took a full eight seconds for the fire to burn itself out.

"Huh." Weird. He really should ask- that thought stopped cold when he turned and saw everyone staring at him.

"Dude," Sam said.

Steve's mouth was slightly ajar, like he wanted to ream into Tony for being stupid but didn't know where to start.

"In case anyone was wondering, this air isn't the same as what we have on Earth."

"Yeah, thanks Tony," Natasha said dryly.

"Always happy to help. Uh. Anyone got burn cream?"

"Is he like this all the time?" one of the Guardians-- a new one, Tony didn't remember their name-- asked.

"Yeah," Steve said.

4. Home-made, on a budget

"This has got to be one of the worst things we've done," Steve said under his breath.

"Is it?" Tony asked absently, looking at the chemical breakdown of the fertilizer. Hmph. Better for soil probably, but not really what he was looking for. He put it down and picked up the brand next to it. Ah, this was more like it. He set it down and squatted to get the big bag and add it to the cart.

"No weapons, no intel. Why aren't you freaking out?"

"No weapons is a very closed-minded view of the situation, babe."

"What, are you going to drown people in fertilizer?" Steve asked. He sounded genuinely confused, which was weird. Tony had thought everyone these days knew that fertilizer could be used in explosives.

"Just keep pushing the cart and leave this part to me," Tony said, because he figured that giving a quick chemistry lesson in the middle of the gardening section was a bad idea. See? He was getting better at this whole pretending-to-be-a-normal-person thing. No matter what Clint said.

"I'm not stupid," Steve said, and Tony was familiar enough with him to catch the irritation there.

"Never meant to imply you were, but I figured we should get in and out before we get caught." Ooo, Christmas lights. He didn't know what he would've done if they'd had to buy normal lightbulbs for this; it would've taken like five boxes instead of just the one, and they would've been less effective since they were for everyday use and used a completely different composition for the bulb covering. "Besides," Tony said, aiming a grin back at him, "you'll probably figure it out as we put these together."

"You're making stuff we can use," Steve stated, like he hadn't really known what they were doing here. Tony would like to pretend to be offended that Steve thought he'd be gift shopping at a time like this, but he'd done that during a crisis before. Then, "Are you sure it'll be powerful enough?"

"We're not blowing up a bunker. This'll be plenty. There's a lot more firepower in everyday household items than you'd think."

"Clearly," Steve muttered.

"Trust me, Cap, by the time we're back in the Tower, you'll know enough to be able to put together your own pipe bomb for the next time you get stranded like this."

"I'm hoping this is the only time."

"With our lives?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of odds are you being given on that? I don't think even a hundred to one would be worth it when you know you're going to lose. Or rather, I know you're going to lose, and since I have more experience, I feel like you should listen to me."

Steve rolled his eyes, but with more humor than before. Apparently, knowing that Tony had the situation in hand was enough to soothe all of his worries.

"Hey, you should be happy this place even has a hardware store. There's like, one gas station with a McDonald's attached, and then this store. I don't think I'd be able to do a lot of damage with whatever I could find in a McDonald's."

"I have faith in Iron Man's ability to save us," Steve said, and when Tony glanced at him, he was looking at him fondly and with a healthy dose of love thrown in for good measure. He'd gotten used to that expression on Steve's face in a hurry.

5. Bucky agreed with me

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Famous last words, Tony knew, but it really had. He'd tell Steve that he regretted it, if that's what he wanted to hear, but he held that it was a good idea. That it was bad for PR was hardly his fault, and frankly, he didn't understand why it would be bad for PR anyways. It was a Hydra base! They were Nazis, and everyone hated Nazis. If anything, him and Bucky should get a thank you card for performing a public service.

He got the distinct feeling that Steve wouldn't agree with that, though.

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked, looking a little frazzled around the edges. Given that he was having to deal with Tony and Bucky for this, that made sense. Normally it was one or the other. Now, he was outnumbered.

"It seemed like a good idea," Tony said, and Bucky nodded.

"A really good idea," Bucky added.

"You blew up a building!"

"There weren't any other buildings around it," Tony said.

"No civilian casualties," Bucky said.

"It's still personal property damage, and I thought we all agreed to try and cut down on that."

"Do we care about Hydra's personal property?" Tony asked, frowning. He'd been under the distinct impression that they didn't. For fuck's sake, it was Hydra they were talking about.

"Officially, the Hydra organization itself didn't own the building or the land," Steve said.

"How do you know that?" Bucky asked curiously, which was a good point. Since when did Steve pay attention to details like that? It wasn't exactly something he could know just from paying attention to the situation.

"Agent Coulson told me. As our handler, it's his job to know those details and share them with us as he sees fit."

"Damn, are you quoting the handbook now?" Bucky said, raising an eyebrow.

"Besides, if Agent is our handler, then it's his job to take care of the buildings we blow up."

"Tony, stop missing the point on purpose."

"Who said I'm missing it on purpose? Maybe I'm missing it on accident, you don't know."

Steve gave him a flat look. "You can't go around blowing up buildings just because you feel like it." He looked at Bucky. "I get that you want to, and as your friend, I support you. As the team leader and another Avenger, I have to tell you to stop. We don't get to do whatever we want."

"Yeah yeah, there are rules, we all agreed to them, we'll be better next time, all that jazz," Tony said, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulders and getting up on his toes to give him a quick kiss.

Steve just sighed. "I love both of you, but seriously, what the hell?" He put his arm around Tony's waist since he didn't move to walk away. "We've been fine on this for a couple years. What made this different?"

Tony and Bucky shared a look. They hadn't agreed not to tell anyone, but there had been an unspoken understanding that the less people knew about it, the better off they'd all be. "It was a research lab," Bucky said, and he left it at that. They didn't need to elaborate what kind of research, because Steve knew that any research Hydra was doing was bad news. The only way they'd had of making sure that none of the research was recovered was by getting rid of the entire building. Whatever hadn't been destroyed in the initial blast was then rendered unrecoverable when the roof collapsed on top of it all.

Steve glanced between the two of them. He knew that basic research wouldn't have gotten this reaction, but Hydra didn't do 'basic' research; there wasn't any point in being an evil organization if you were going to be moral with your experiments. Tony could see it on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to ask what kind of research, but none of it made it out of his mouth. "Okay. You know the speech. Don't do it again, formal apology if Agent Coulson says it's required, all that crap."

"Done," Bucky said immediately, and Tony gave Steve another soft kiss in thanks. They both knew that Steve was on their side for stuff like this, but sometimes he wanted so badly to be a good Captain America that it muddied the waters.

+1. Half-heart, Half-bomb

"I guess that's one explosion you finally don't have to worry about," Tony joked with a tremulous smile.

Steve smiled back, just as weakly. They were both pretending. Tony wondered how long that would last before Steve couldn't take it anymore and worried over him in a more obvious manner. It would probably last all the way up until they were back home, with the doors shut and no outside eyes on them. Then he was going to worry like the world's biggest mother hen. For now though, Tony was grateful for him trying.

The whir of the quinjet was comforting to him now like it had never been before. Tony didn't know what was wrong with him. He'd been in dangerous situations a hundred times before, as Iron Man. Hell, he'd been in more dangerous situations than the one he'd just gotten rescued from.

The problem, he guessed, was that... well, this one hit closer to home. It was the arc reactor. It was a part of him. Having that be turned against him felt like a betrayal, somehow.

Since becoming Iron Man, he'd done his fair share of starting fires and creating explosions-- more than his fair share, if you asked Steve. With Obadiah, he'd used the first arc reactor that Howard had built as a bomb. A small one, considering the amount of firepower it had, but a bomb all the same. To see the same thing happen to his own had been nothing short of a nightmare. The kind of nightmare that woke you up in the middle of the night, shaking and clammy. He'd woken up from a drugged sleep and seen wires coming out of his chest. He hadn't been convinced that it wasn't a vivid hallucination, at first, but it hadn't stopped him from panicking.

They got to the Tower, headed inside, and went straight to their room. Well, officially it was Tony's room, but it was only a matter of time before Steve moved in.

"You want to talk about it?" Steve asked.

Tony rubbed over the arc reactor reflexively. He couldn't feel any sensation from it, but he could feel the heel of his palm on one side, and the tips of his fingers on the other. The fact that his palm wasn't skipping over emptiness did quite a bit to reassure him that he was fine. The problem, of course, was that he already knew he was fine. He was here, and he wasn't in pain. Steve was here, and they weren't in a battle. He knew that everything was fine.

Now if he could just stop freaking out about it.

"It wasn't even a good bomb," Tony said, the words slipping out of his mouth one after another. "Like, can you imagine making a bomb out of someone's pacemaker, so it would kill them, but you're not even going to get the destruction radius that you want? The arc reactor has so much energy that you could easily level a city block, but with the way they did it, it wouldn't have gone more than ten feet. It wouldn't have made it through a wall if I'd been standing right next to it. What kind of bullshit villain do you have to be to not know how to properly make a bomb? The only one it would've killed was- me, and- it's not like there aren't easier ways of- doing that. It's like-" He was having trouble breathing now. He was talking himself into a panic.

Steve wrapped him up in a hug, and Tony hid his face against Steve's neck. "They're stupid, you're not. We're gonna wake up tomorrow and get to do whatever the hell we want, and they won't be able to. It's gonna be okay. We all know you're better at this than anyone else, right?" he added on the end, smiling a little to try and raise Tony's spirits even though he couldn't see him; Tony always said that he loved Steve's smile.

"Yeah." He took a shaky breath in. It was weird; he felt like he was closer to falling apart now than he'd been while it was happening. Once he'd figured out that he wasn't trapped in the middle of a nightmare, he'd been able to deal with it. Grace under pressure or something, he guessed. It didn't make much sense to him for why he should be so calm then only to fall into pieces now. And he did. Fall into pieces, that is.

Steve just held him and said, "You're safe now. I've got you."

He didn't cry, not really. Mostly he stood there, shaking and clinging to Steve like a lifeline. He knew that he'd feel better by tomorrow, but for now, he let himself feel bad.

#stony #marvel #fanfic #steve rogers #tony stark #my writing

35 notes · View notes

feralandmoonstruck · 3 years

Text

Prize

DNI IF UNDER 18

Warnings: Kidnapping, self harm, suicide attempt, doctor/hospital, blood

Word Count: 2,950

Fiora ran. Staccato hoofbeats pounded behind her the same rhythm as her heart trying to break free of her chest. An entire life spent watching the horizon for any sign of danger was being brought to heel in blood-churned mud beneath a hazy sky that stank of smoke and piss and death. An entire life spent in fear of Breschen soldiers pulled up short as a gauntleted hand snatched her hair and yanked her off her feet. Her scream choked off as her back hit the ground. The last of it exploded out of her, leaving her unable to breathe. Even dazed, she struggled to get back up. She needed to be faster. To outrun the nightmare playing out around her. Mud sucked at her skin. It made her boots slip as she tried to get her feet back under her. The foul mix of muck found its way inside her mouth and she gagged. Then she was on her knees again, about to push herself up and run, when the soldier’s hand clamped down on the back of her neck. Empty lungs took all of the strength out of her fight, but she twisted and squirmed nonetheless. The soldier was a mountain she railed against. He let her struggle for a moment before pulling her wrists behind her back and binding them with a rough length of rope. He looped a second rope between her hands, threaded it through a ring on his belt, and then secured it to the saddlehorn. He remounted and dragged her up onto the horse, situating her in front of him to keep an eye one her. He had come prepared. Fiora’s breath returned as they rode away from her village. She spat obscenities at him that were wholly ignored. It didn’t matter what she did, the soldier had won his prize.

It was three days of being tethered to horses and stakes and clinging to the other weeping women who had been taken before reaching the palace. The soldiers kept them on the edges of comfort. They were fed and given blankets and water. The men spoke to them with gentle words. They weren’t monsters. They didn’t mistreat the women. Life in Bresch would be better, they promised.

“Dracen,” the soldiers called the man who had taken Fiora. “Prince.” “General.” A Breschen prince had destroyed her home and her life. He had stolen her away from everything she knew and loved, and he had burned it all down to ashes. That callous destruction hardened in the depths of her heart, a seed watered with her tears. It would grow to be the death of one of them, Fiora did not care which.

Dracen’s hands were gentle but firm as he lifted her off his horse once they reached the palace stable yards. She squirmed and jerked against him, but she could have been a kitten for all that it mattered. He swung her into his arms. Fiora’s fight had all but gone out of her.

“Thank you, Andreas,” he called to the groom who held the reins of Dracen’s silvery-blue gelding.

“I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know you will.”

“Say something! Acknowledge me! Anything,” she begged.

Dracen continued to ignore her.

Another servant was waiting to open a door to the palace for their prince. They kept their eyes carefully averted as Dracen carried her inside and the door shut behind them.

The interior was blessedly cool after three days of stinking heat. Dracen’s chest was warm against her side. Fiora twisted her chin up and sank her teeth into his shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath, freezing for a heartbeat. His forearm shifted against her back and then his hand was in her hair, wrenching her head away from him.

“That’s enough.”

Fiora sneered up at him. “I’ll never stop fighting you.”

Dracen looked down at her, his brown eyes softening at the edges. “It’s not sustainable, but I would expect nothing less.”

“You destroyed my life.”

His grip loosened on her hair, but he continued to hold it. A warning. He didn’t answer, just began to walk again, his boots ringing against the granite floors.

When they finally stopped, it was in front of a plain, unassuming door. He set her on her feet. One hand remained on her shoulder to keep them tethered. Always the subtle reminder of his strength and his power over her. “There’s no other way for you to view it, but know that this is better than death.” He opened the door.

The room beyond was empty, save for a small cot on the floor. There was only one window, far above Fiora’s head with no chance of reaching it.

“I wasn’t even given the choice. I would have chosen death.”

Dracen nodded, “I’ve no doubt about that. That’s why you weren’t given that option.” He walked her into the room. “Someone will be by with food and water.” He drew his dagger and sliced through the ropes binding Fiora’s wrists. Her skin beneath was red and scabbed. Without another word he walked out, shutting the door before she had a chance to bolt. A lock clicked. Fiora screamed, slamming her fists against the heavy wood. A cough choked her. It wracked her body to the point of bringing tears to her eyes. It’s not sustainable. Dracen’s words echoed in her ears. Every act of defiance had sapped the strength from her. Every scream scoured her throat raw. Every jerk and pull of her body wore down her stamina, making her ache more and more. She slid to the floor as the tears finally came.

The door opened, sending Fiora tumbling face first into the floor. “Oh!” came a small voice from above her. “Oh no! Are you alright?”

Fiora blinked up and noticed a servant with a guard standing over her shoulder. She rolled onto her back, forcing the maid to step over her. “I’m waiting to die.” The guard followed her inside and shut the door.

“I’m Lettie,” she said, ignoring Fiora’s comment, “and this is Milo. I’ve brought you some food and some water if you’d like it.”

“And I’m here to keep you from doing something destructive. Prince Dracen said that you’re a fighter.”

Fiora’s laugh was hollow as she picked herself up off the floor. “Your prince is a monster.”

Lettie gasped. “You shouldn’t say such things about the prince! He is protecting us all.”

“Protecting you maybe, but he doesn’t give a shit about Olerans.”

“How can you say that? He brought you here. Surely here is better than what you left.”

The words stung. “Give me the food.”

Lettie held out the tray that contained a thick sandwich and a cup of water. Fiora snatched the water first.

“Easy,” Lettie cautioned, “you’ll not want to drink it too quickly.”

“I know that.” Fiora grabbed half of the sandwich in one hand and sat down on the floor. She took a large bite as Lettie kneeled in front of her.

“If you’d like, after you’re done eating I can take you to the bathing chamber.”

Fiora looked up at Milo, “Will he be there?”

“I’ve no plans to watch you, but the prince assigned me to you. All the women brought back were assigned a maid and a guard. I’m to keep you –”

“From doing something destructive,” Fiora finished. She took another bite.

“We’re only trying to keep you safe,” Lettie said gently.

Fiora swallowed thickly. “Safe for what? What do they plan to do to us?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know. We were only told to keep you safe and to take care of you as well as we could.”

“When can I see the others?”

Lettie shook her head. “I’m not sure of that either. We weren’t told much.”

Fiora sighed. “A bath would be nice.”

Lettie smiled. “We can do that.”

The heat of the water leached the ache from Fiora’s muscles. She was still sore, but it was better than she’d felt in days. She could barely keep her eyes open as Lettie and Milo led her back to her room. After three days of fighting and sleeping on the ground and being slung over a horse, the cot may as well have been a bed of the softest feathers for as quickly as Fiora sank into it and let slumber pull her down.

She awoke disoriented. Her throat was dry and raw and her tongue felt pasted to the roof of her mouth. She sat up, the memories of the previous few days returning in a hot rush. She climbed slowly to her feet and made her way to the wall. The first slam of her head against the stone sent pain exploding through her. She screamed. Blood poured over her lips. And then she was laughing and crying and screaming all at once. Death would hurt either way, but at least this was on her terms.

The door to her room was thrown open, and then hands were wrenching her away. Milo was shouting something, but she couldn’t make out the words. He dragged her out into the hallway.

“Let me go,” she begged. “Just let me do this!” Blood hazed her vision.

“Milo, let her go. She’s not an animal.” Fiora didn’t recognize the voice.

“Prince Dracen said I’m not to let her do anything destructive, and now look at her! We thought she’d be fine in an empty room!”

“Dracen,” the voice snapped, “is busy, and I’m telling you to let her go.”

Milo released his hold on Fiora, and she collapsed. The newcomer’s voice drew closer to her. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you alright?”

“That’s,” she choked, “a stupid question.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “I suppose it is. I’m Prince Viorel. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

Fiora groaned as she sat up and wiped the blood from her eyes. Her head throbbed.

“Milo, go find the physician.” Milo hesitated for a moment. “She will be fine in my care. Go.”

“You’re one of the girls Dracen brought back from Olera, aren’t you?”

“He should have killed us.” Even with her eyes clear, she still saw Viorel as more of an overlapping blur than a person.

“Perhaps, but my brother still has a soft heart from time to time. Do you want to die so badly?”

“Death is better than being a Breschen prisoner.”

Viorel frowned, his face duplicated. “And if you weren’t?”

“Unless you plan to send me home, I would still choose death.”

“Is there still a home for you to go back to?”

Fiora glared at him. It hurt to think. Before she could piece together an answer, the sounds of Milo and the physician hurrying to them echoed up the hall. Viorel drew back to give the physician room to work. He stood with Milo off to the side and they conversed in voices low enough that Fiora could not have heard them even if she were paying attention.

Once finished with his examination, the physician spoke briefly with Viorel then disappeared with Milo once more. Viorel returned to the floor next to Fiora. “You’ve got a concussion,” he said, answering her question before she had a chance to ask it. “And a broken nose. He wants to keep you for observation for a couple of days.”

Fiora spat air from between her teeth. “I want to see the others. The women your brother stole, I want to see them.”

“You’re in no state for that right now. Not to be rude, but you’re an absolute mess and you would likely only frighten them.”

Fiora tried to shake her head, but the movement set the room to spinning and she slumped sideways. Viorel caught her before she could hit the ground.

“I would like to stay with you, if that’s alright.”

“But you’re a prince,” she said.

“Fourth prince, but seventh child. There is little that is expected of me on a day to day basis.”

“Seventh?”

Viorel laughed. The sound was as rich as wine. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a reaction like that. But yes, seventh out of eleven altogether.”

“All from the same mother?” Fiora blinked rapidly as she tried to wrap her head around the information.

“Yes, surprisingly. I promise you can meet her and all of my other siblings.”

“If I promise not to die, right?”

“Death would make it a sight more difficult.”

Fiora let out a laugh that was more of a groan. “And if I don’t?”

“No one can make that decision for you, but I hope you would consider delaying it. At least for now.”

Milo and the physician returned again. A stretcher was held between them. “Ma’am,” the physician said, “we need to move you now.”

Fiora nodded slowly. They put the stretcher next to her and helped her to lie back on it. When they had her situated they lifted between them.

Viorel touched Fiora’s shoulder. “Would you mind terribly if I were to join you?”

“I suppose not. Not that I think you’d listen even if I said no.”

Viorel chuckled. “I’m not sure I would either.”

He followed them back to the infirmary, standing at the edge of the room while the physician and one of his aides moved Fiora to her bed and proceeded to run a series of tests on her.

The aide helped lower Fiora back on the pillows while the physician conversed with Viorel. When the aide kneeled and pulled leather straps from beneath the bed, Viorel stepped forward. "You're not restraining her."

The aide's eyes went wide. "My apologies Prince, but it's protocol for patients who pose a threat to themselves or others."

"And I'm telling you that you're not restraining her, protocol or no." The aide placed the straps back under the bed. "I plan to stay here for the night at least. If something happens, I assure you I will notify you. She's gone through unfathomable hardship, and I have no intention of leaving her alone."

"Fiora. My name is Fiora."

Viorel looked over at her, "I have no intention of leaving Fiora alone."

"As you wish, my prince." They retreated and Viorel dragged a chair up next to Fiora’s bed.

Her eyelids fluttered as she looked up at the prince. “Thank you for not letting them strap me down.”

“You’re not an animal, Fiora. Dracen should know better than to treat you as such. Any of you. If he planned to take you from Olera, he should have planned to make your lives here as comfortable and attractive as possible. Otherwise things like this happen.” He reached out and carefully brushed her blood crusted hair from her cheek.

“I’m so tired,” she admitted.

“No rest yet,” he said gently, “we still need to get you cleaned up.”

Fiora let out a slow breath. “You’re right.”

“If you will pardon me for just a moment.” He waited for her nod before stepping around the curtain.

She could hear his boots clicking through the infirmary, passing by the rows of empty beds. Her eyes flicked to the window above her, to the edge of the bed where she knew the straps lay just beyond her reach. She sighed. “You’re not an animal, Fiora.”

“Fiora? Fiora, wake up.” Viorel laid his hand on her shoulder.

She woke with a gasp.

“There you are.” He smiled, his cheeks creasing with dimples. Fiora stared at him, her eyes tracing the bow of his lips, the line of his nose, all the way up to flintlock eyes. “We’re going to get you cleaned up now, okay?”

She turned her gaze to the other person standing next to her bed. “Lettie, I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I should have been there. This wouldn’t have happ–”

Fiora raised a hand to stop her. “There isn’t a single thing you could have done. I did this, not you.” The other girl’s face crumpled. “You’re here now, and so am I.”

Lettie nodded. “You’re still here.” She reached into the basin of water on the cart next to her, wringing out a rag before passing it to Viorel.

“Has anyone told Dracen yet?”

“Milo is looking for him, my prince.”

He nodded and bent down to dab blood from Fiora’s skin.

An aide swapped places with Viorel at one point so that he could go with the physician to speak with Dracen about the incident. That’s what they had begun calling it, “The Incident,” as though it was some unfortunate accident and not a deliberate act by Fiora herself.

Lettie and the aide, Caris, had washed the blood from Fiora’s hair and had her sitting up by the time Viorel had returned. wheeled the cart holding the basin and rags away for a final time. He waved Lettie out after them.

“You’re looking better already,” he said as he took a seat next to her.

“And you’re a liar. We both know what I look like.”

“You wound me.”

“How are the others? Did your brother tell you anything?”

“None with reactions so drastic as yours I’m afraid. Mostly weeping, from what he’s heard.”

“But they’re alright?”

“They are. It’s your turn next, if you think you can manage?” His words were gentle, no hint of mockery or reproach in them.

“I can’t promise that,” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t ask you to. This is something only you can choose. Until then, I’ll be here so long as you’ll let me.”

Fiora nodded. “I think I could do that. At least for now.”

#the spite ratio #tsr #my writing #tw blood #tw self harm #tw suicide attempt #tw doctors #tw hospital

14 notes · View notes