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sweetbunnykook · 3 years

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Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

#bunny:fic #yandere bts #yandere fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #only you #chapter 9 #I did not follow the outline I made for this chapter LOL this was an unpredictable chapter even to me

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

hi! today is my birthday (yeah, a day before his) and as a big fan of yours that i am, i know that you made a one-shot for his birthday, but could you do it like it would be if it was your first birthday with him? i reeeally appreciate and love your work! keep doing this, you're amazing! thank you!!

ok the daddy kink gotta go on pause bc we have an EMERGENCY called it's a baddie's birthday! 🥳 happy birthday babe i hope it's as special and lovely as can be! also thank you that made my day of course i'd be happy to write a one-shot like that :)

summary: reader reunites with Matthew for her birthday after his absence on a week-long trip.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk.

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

after lighting my favorite candles on the bedside table and smoothing out the wrinkles on the bed, I climb onto the mattress and fold my legs up beneath me, criss-cross applesauce. there's a warm, peachy light that falls onto the white comforter, aureate and gentle when I straighten my spine.

I have spent my birthday so far dealing with tired limbs and people I don't like; the only good part so far was getting lunch with a couple of my friends, but something still feels absent.

that something is Matthew.

he's been in Los Angeles for a week, and I miss him like crazy. the apartment is cold and hollow without him in it, despite the numerous objects of his that decorate every nook and cranny. a star and moon mobile hangs above our bed, which sounds childish but actually is fun for both of us to look at when we're lying together at night.

our eyes always follow as the crescent and circle shapes cross each other in a slow circle while we talk. and every time he's gone, his side of the bed gets cold. I miss his mouth and the shape of his arms when they enfold me. I've never been much for showing affection, but I would cover him in kisses if we had all day together.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

he's coming home tonight and I've been looking forward to it for days now. even our kitten, Clarisse, lifts her head every time someone in the hallway of the building passes. she likes to sit between us whenever she can.

I let my thoughts roam freely as I take deep breaths and center my mind. it's hard to reign in the joy I feel at the memory of him. I haven't had an orgasm since he left, not because I haven't had the motivation, but because Matthew has created a new rule.

neither of us can pleasure ourselves until we see each other again. technically, I suppose we could break the rule and there would be no ramifications-- but it's kinda fun, to be honest. every night he calls me, and every night he tiptoes around the things he wants to do when he gets home. he can always hear the shortness of my breath when he says anything erring on risqué, asking what I'm wearing or if I've been thinking of him. of course I've been thinking of him; my nights swell with apparitions of his touch, moving over my skin without any tangible reality.

it usually ends with him tsking and telling me to be patient while I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs, resisting every urge within me to get off to the sound of his voice. he does it so well, too. all deep and desirous when he tells me to be good.

even as I sit here on the bed, a tingling feeling starts in my stomach. I want him too badly, and waiting has been absolute torture. I remember two nights ago, when I was sitting in his favorite armchair with my knees tucked into my chest, speaking softly to him.

"what have you been up to?"

"nothing out of the ordinary: filming, drawing... thinking of you." he had said, the last three words igniting a flame in my stomach. I love to hear him say that.

"anything in particular?" I started to trace absent-mindedly over the skin of my calves.

"thinking about how good you'd look with your hands between your legs." his voice was somehow silky and raspy all at once, like the idea of it was arousing him. I bit my lip and squeezed my thighs together.

"stop tempting me."

"why?"

"you know damn well why." I giggled. he sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm starting to hate this rule."

"you made it!" I argued, practically able to hear the mischievous little smile on his face.

"I know, but I wanna hear your noises."

"Matthew..." I blushed, even though he wasn't right in front of me.

"I can't wait to hear you scream that." the drop in his tone made goosebumps rise over my skin.

"are you hard right now?"

"maybe." he hesitated. I felt every cell in my body begging me to cheat our rule-- maybe bend it slightly-- but I hold true.

"get home, then, and I'll suck the soul out of you." I laughed a bit and heard him move in his seat.

"stop teasing."

"you're one to talk," I glanced out the window at the city glittering, full of so many people and empty of him. "I should go before we fuck this up for ourselves."

"no..." he whined like a needy puppy for a moment. "just talk to me normally."

"fine," I pretended to be disappointed. I didn't want to hang up, anyway. "do you wanna hear about my coworkers? that's guaranteed to eradicate all sexual thoughts."

...

he texts me half an hour later, as I blow out the wicks of my candles and watch the rest of the sun disappear. I love nighttime. he's on his way and I get butterflies, despite the fact that I already know what's coming.

instead of waiting giddily with Clarisse, I elect to take a hot shower and wash the day from my bones. I feel more at ease now that I've had some time to sit with my thoughts, although they've made me even more sexually frustrated.

it's only when I'm drying my hair and sitting in my new lingerie slip dress that relief walks through the door in the form of Matthew and a pizza from our favorite neighborhood place. I hear him come in, practically leap up and run into the living room.

"hi!" he greets, standing in the entryway with his suitcase and a scarf thrown casually around his neck. he shuts the door just in time for me to get to him.

"hi hi hi!" I attach myself like a parasite, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly.

"happy birthday, my sweet girl," he kisses the top of my head and lets out a chuckle at my affection. "can I set my stuff down, quick?" Clarisse brushes against his leg.

reluctantly, I disentangle myself and take the pizza box from his hands and carry it into the kitchen. he makes a high-pitched whistle noise as I walk away, bending over to greet our cat.

"liking the view." he jokes. I set down the box and return to him, removing his scarf and coat with something of an impatience.

"shut up," I laugh. he starts to kiss my cheekbone, smiles against my skin while I peel off the winter layers. he's got too many clothes on. "you didn't need to pick up a pizza."

"it's your special day-- I wanted to get you the finest cuisine in Manhattan." he replies sincerely. I bite back a grin and stare up at him, completely and utterly in love with his stupid turns of phrase.

"it's gonna get cold, though."

"why?" he frowns. I answer by pulling him in for a voracious kiss, cupping his face in my hands. after a moment of us pressing our torsos together, he grabs the backs of my thighs and I jump, letting him hold me up. one of his hands rests beneath my butt, squeezing the flesh while we embrace.

"you're gonna drop me if we don't get to the bedroom soon." I giggle into his mouth. he playfully smacks my ass and carries me into our favorite place, slamming the door shut with his foot and setting me down on the mattress. I smile at his perfect features, wanting to both tear into him and preserve this moment in time forever.

he climbs onto the bed, pushes my legs apart and runs his hands along the outside of my thighs to hitch up my slip. I raise my eyebrows but don't argue when he gathers the dress up around my waist and yanks my panties down.

"I've been thinking about your pussy all day." he kisses the skin above my knee, moving much too slowly up my legs while he holds them open. I feel my hips leave the bed in eagerness, and he glances at my core hungrily. "you're dripping, baby."

"don't make me wait any more." I roll my eyes and he places the flat of his hand over my center, barely stimulating me while pushing me down. he knows the effect it has from the tortured whine I release.

"the best things come with time." he winks and continues his open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs. his head is between my legs, but not nearly in the way I'd like it to be. I crave more; he knows it. he licks over a spot near my pussy and I moan.

"sensitive, huh?" he raises an eyebrow. I run my fingers through those unruly curls, tug.

"don't act as if you aren't just as turned on right now."

"delayed gratification is a skill, darling." he's smirking and it's driving me wild looking at him in this position, not doing anything. he peeks at my body again before meeting my eyes. "you're dragging this out by talking, by the way."

"oh my god." I throw my head back into the pillow, but go silent as he starts to resume his movements. finally, slowly, he licks up my entrance, pausing at my crest to flick his tongue. I gasp and look at him, his focus all on my face.

he rolls his mouth expertly over me, dipping between my folds to taste and releasing a greedy moan before starting to lap and play with it like he can't stop himself anymore. this time, when I grip his hair, I use it as leverage to grind against him. he feels so good, the sounds coming from my lips are truly unhinged.

"oh, shit, shit-- just like that." I choke out. every part of me clings to him. he wraps his hands around my thighs and yanks me down the bed so he can do more with me. every action with his tongue is like a delicious torture, him exploring all the parts of me as if he's never tasted them before. when he runs his teeth gently across my clit, I moan loudly.

"so hot, Matthew, god, please--"

he doesn't even stop to tease me at all. judging by the darkened irises and blown-out pupils, he's lost in his own world while he eats me out. I can feel the pads of his fingertips gripping onto my skin as if it's his only tether to reality. he behaves like someone inebriated, trying new tricks and thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I'm already close, and he can feel from the insistence of my sounds.

he pulls away for a second and I whine, but he puts two fingers over my clit and rubs me like crazy while he talks.

"is this what you wanted for your birthday, sweetheart? to cum?" his mouth is glistening with my essence, lips swollen, while he holds my gaze. I'm whimpering.

"we're gonna have dinner after this and then for dessert, I'm gonna give you what you want," he pants and I can see the erection straining against his clothes. "okay?"

"mhmm." I buck against his touch, which is bringing me closer with every passing second.

"I'm treating you until that little pussy can't take it anymore." he bites his lip and watches me squirm. I'm almost to the edge and I know what will finish me.

"I need your mouth." I beg him hopefully. Matthew grins.

"whatever you want, baby." and with that, he bends down again and replaces his talented fingers with his lips, flicking and running over my clit until I can feel my stomach tensing.

"fuck!" I cry out, rolling against his face and climaxing intensely. my eyes squeeze shut at the tightening of all my muscles. my skin is on fire as I clutch at my tits through the fabric of my dress and feel my back move off the bed. he's pulling my legs up so that he can work me through my orgasm at an angle, harshly sucking at it until I'm completely worn out.

he puts me down and I breathe deeply, try to settle the quickness of my pulse.

"how was that?" he asks, rubbing over my legs affectionately while I come down from my high.

"amazing." I sit up and start to tug at his belt in the hopes of undoing it, but Matthew removes my wrist and shakes his head. I peek up at him with a curious, disappointed expression.

"it's your day, remember?" he says it so lovingly with a slightly higher pitch than normal, soft and laced with kindness. I look at his erection, anyway, always wanting the sight of it.

"that can't be comfortable."

"oh, it's not." he laughs. I let him lift me off the bed and he guides me to the kitchen on my slightly weak legs. everything about him leaves me like that.

Matthew and I eat pizza and drink champagne while he tells me about his trip, about all the cool people he met and places he went to shoot. he shows pictures of the cast and him making silly faces, and a bakery he saw.

"all the pastries are named after amazing women," he grins and presents a photo of the interior, which is full of flowers and hues of rich blue. "so I obviously thought of you."

I smile through my bite of food, heart fluttering. he shows me a picture of a half-eaten cookie that has the silhouette of a woman on the front, sitting in a chair. it's very 1800's-looking.

"it's supposed to be Jane Austen."

"I'm jealous." I grin.

"I'll take you sometime." he puts his phone away and we go back to talking normally. I could watch his lips move forever, listen to his voice forever. there's a quality to his speech that is entirely unique, that draws me in and makes me want to claim him for life. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so completely.

I rant about the things I had to deal with today, and he chuckles at my naturally indignant tone. by the time I run out of steam, we're just sitting with pleased expressions on our faces. even when I'm angry about something that's happened earlier, he knows how to make me forget all about it.

"it would be fun for everyone to meet you." Matthew toys with the napkin in his lap. I sigh.

"as long as there's alcohol involved, sure."

"why?"

"they make me nervous!"

"you have no reason to be nervous," he shakes his head slowly. "they'll love you."

"that's the thing-- I want them to like me so badly, I'll do something to mess it up."

"you couldn't. you're adorable when you're shy." he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee reassuringly. I try to smile, but my stomach twists up at the thought. it's easy for Matthew; he's so uninhibited.

"you say that now, but it'll be a different story when I've managed to fall on my face in front of everyone."

he snorts. "okay, that would be kind of funny."

"hey!" but I'm hiding a smile.

"they'll love you," he keeps his hand on my leg as he looks at me. "you wanna know how I know?"

"how?" I wait patiently for his reply. he leans forward in his seat and beckons me closer.

"because you are the sweetest--" he kisses me. "smartest--" another peck. "funniest girl I know."

"stop." I deadpan as I turn my face away just enough for him to nuzzle my cheek with his nose as I laugh.

"not to mention the sexiest one, too." he whispers in my ear. I put my hand on his shoulder, intending to push him away playfully but finding myself not wanting to.

"I knew that's where you were gonna take that." I roll my eyes. his other hand has been creeping progressively up my thigh until his fingers brush my core. I suck in a breath, remembering that my panties are still in the bedroom.

"you want me to prove it to you?" he starts to stroke over me, gathering the wetness on his fingers that already waits for him. I let out a slight moan as he dips inside and curls his digits.

"mhmm."

he starts to finger me easily, adding a second and pumping them inside while I grip the edge of the table and watch his face concentrate on mine. he's rough and deep, the result of not having his own orgasm earlier. I can see the lust in his eyes like he can't wait to dive in. all that comes out of my mouth are chants of his name, begging for him as his thumb toys with my clit. my walls clench and his jaw hangs open with a slight smile.

"do that again." he says. I obey, squeezing my thighs around his wrist. he feels so good there, and he's not even doing that much. "god, I can't wait for you to do that on my cock."

"fuck me, then." I breathe.

"gladly," he removes his fingers so suddenly, I make a disappointed noise. "get on the table, sweetheart."

"the-- the table?" I glance down at the surface. he nods in complete seriousness. oh, wow.

we clear off the two plates and down the rest of our champagne, his lips capturing mine easily the second I turn around from putting them in the sink. he walks me back to the table, never breaking our contact, before I end up sitting on it. he's between my legs, pushing his hips to mine while he moves my dress up again.

I hum into his neck while he starts to grind against me, undoing his belt and breathing quickly in my ear. I can feel his length through the fabric, feel how desperate he is. I scoot closer to the edge and try to get more.

"are you sure you don't want me to suck your dick?" I peek at him. he tilts my face up and I feel myself sink into those dark circles around his eyes. my beautiful, haunted boy.

"I need to be inside you." he says it without an ounce of humor. every word weighted with desire as he holds me there. my insides feel like they've been electrified, nerves sparking. all I can do is nod fervidly and pull his shirt off.

he takes off his bottoms and stares back at me, stroking his cock while I trail my nails down his chest, abdomen, whatever I can find. he's so gorgeous, I want to leave marks just so I can make sure he's real. he rubs himself in my essence, then pushes the head inside.

"Matthew--" I bite down on his shoulder to silence myself as he stretches me out. it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like the first time. his head dropping down with a long, low groan of pleasure.

"I missed this." he sheathes himself inside, deep, and I feel my walls tightening around him. there's a pressure on my clit from the position we're in, too. I whine on it, letting myself wiggle impatiently.

"move." I whisper. he starts to withdraw, only about halfway, before going in again. I throw my head back at the force of his thrust, so greedy. he's groaning softly while he presses his mouth to my throat, the flutter of his breath over my skin causing shivers to run up and down my spine.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to find a rhythm with my body. nails dig into his back as an anchor. the closeness of his chest to mine is comforting.

"do you know how hard it was not to get myself off, baby?" he says, the words threaded with a needy tone. I shake my head and pray he'll keep talking. "every night I'd think about you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"you could have." I taunt.

"this is better," he goes faster, clutching at my waist and legs to pull me closer. "so much better."

"yeah?" I giggle, although it's hard when he's pounding into me so hard. I cling tightly and try to meet his thrusts. he's hitting different angles within me that I didn't even know existed, tearing me apart in the absolute best way.

"I wanna be inside it all day." he moans. I'm scratching his back with the way we're working together, every word out of his mouth and the sounds he makes causing me to lose my mind. his fingers dig into my ass as he slams into me. the table shakes beneath.

"that feels so fucking good." I grab on and roll my hips against his. his hand moves to my shoulder to push the straps of my dress down.

"let me see you," he tugs them until my tits are out, at which point he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, moaning loudly at the feeling. "pretty girl."

I can feel the tidal wave building within me, the seconds that gather into one wild, exquisite torrent of pleasure. the knot in my stomach tightens as he fucks me.

"I'm gonna cum." tears prick the back of my eyes. he's working my figure so perfectly, I can barely see. my legs are shaking before I even reach the culmination.

"good." he gets erratic as he imagines how pleasurable it'll be to have me clenching around him, and I sink below the surface. my hips jerk and I cry out like it's my last time being with him, his name pouring from my mouth. Matthew speeds up.

"so... tight--" he shudders. "oh fuck-- that's it, baby, that's it."

he spills inside and it prolongs our orgasms, both of us breathing hard while I remove my arms from his shoulders and lean back on my hands against the table, him still thrusting gently into me while we hold eye contact.

when he's finished, he removes himself from me and then we're just there, looking at each other with love all over our faces.

"happy birthday, Y/N." he grins.

"can you give me one more gift?" I bite my lip. he frowns.

"oh, I have several gifts for you in my suitcase--" he starts to say with a laugh, then sees that I'm not referring to anything tangible. "yes, anything."

"can you Clorox this table, please?"

Matthew kisses my cheek. "of course."

#matthew gray gubler smut #mgg ask #mgg oneshot

221 notes · View notes

liyuesbian · 3 years

Text

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

#ningguang #ningguang au #ningguang angst #ningguang x reader #ningguang headcanons #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin headcanons #genshin au #pygmalion au #ningguang imagines #genshin imagines

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jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 3 years

Text

It Was You (Part Two)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Read Part One Here!

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3284

Series Warnings: angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

Jensen returned home right around 3:30 and went to his place to grab the beer he’d promised Y/n before heading to her apartment, his mind still reeling from the conversation he’d had with Stacy.

Letting himself in, as he always did, Jensen called as soon as he stepped into the entryway, “Sweetheart? It’s me.”

When he entered, he found you lying on the couch with your arm covering your eyes, and soft sniffles were coming from your direction. You were huddled in a mess of blankets and tissues littered the floor surrounding you.

Jensen quickly set the beer on the counter and hurried to you, kneeling on the rug in front of your sofa and reaching towards you. “Hey… Y/n, what’s wrong?”

Pulling your arm away from your face, he was met with puffy, red eyes. You’d been crying.

“Oh, nothing.” You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “I just got dumped, is all.”

You quickly sat up as Jensen climbed onto your couch and pulled you into his arms. Honestly, it wasn’t that you were broken hearted in any way. Sure, Stephen had been nice and sweet, and you were sad to lose him in a way, but the tears were more for your own sorrow of no longer being with someone, which seemed to be more often than not lately.

“I just don’t understand. What is it about me that I can’t just be with someone?” You cried.

Jensen simply swayed you back and forth as you curled into his chest and crawled into his lap. After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes once again as he said, “You know, any guy would have to be crazy for letting you go.”

It was another little jab to the heart, but he wouldn’t know why. You straightened up and took a deep breath. Your head was beginning to hurt from crying, and at this point you needed that beer he brought over. Running your hands through your hair, as you sat on the edge of the couch, Jensen seemed to read your mind as he quickly got up and returned with an opened beer for you.

“Thanks, Jay.” You said, taking a long drink.

He bent down and kissed your head before retreating to your kitchen. Peering over the island, you saw him taking down pots and pans and grabbing ingredients out of your fridge.

“What are you doing?” you called, standing and bringing your beer with you, leaning on the counter and watching him move from one end to the other as he emptied the contents of his arms onto the countertop.

“Well, it may not be your mom’s recipe, but I’m going to make you some chili. I know you were probably really looking forward to it, and I’m not gonna’ to let you go hungry.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can still cook.” You objected, even though the thought was exhausting in itself.

Jensen turned to you and began to chop an onion after setting the pot on the stove, “Nope. You sit your cute butt right there and watch me work.” He replied with a wink.

Smiling, you sat at your kitchen island and tried to avoid being a back-seat chef and allowed him to take the reins. He was a great cook, so you didn’t mind letting him do so. It wasn’t long before he had you laughing and clutching your sides. Between the way he was dancing around the kitchen and cursing when he made a mess, your mind had been cleared and you were in a much better mood. The situation with Stephen sucked, sure, but it wasn’t the worst breakup you’d endured. You’d find the one, eventually.

Jensen made the cornbread and put it in the oven while the chili simmered and came to sit on the stool next to you, bumping your shoulder with his and swiping your beer to finish it.

Clearing his throat, he dared to ask, “So, do you want to talk about it?”

You grabbed the bottle back from him, if only to hold and begin peeling the label, needing to fidget with something in your hands, “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s not like I’m super upset about it. Honestly, you were right. Stephen wasn’t the most exciting person, and I don’t think we really meshed well. He was sweet and everything, but I knew it wasn’t going to work out. It’s more of the fact that I was dumped, again. If you’re not in love, it’s easy to get over. Your hearts not broken.”

“I know, sweetheart. Trust me.” Jensen said with a small sigh.

“Have you ever been heartbroken, Jay?” you asked in a whisper.

“You remember when Allie dumped me the summer before senior year?” he laughed. “You never left my side. That was more of a high school type heartbreak though. I don’t know if that was real, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. Really. I’m sad about Stephen, but not in a heartbreak type of way.”

“What about you?” Jensen asked.

“Hmm?”

“Have you, uh… have you ever had your heart broken?”

You stiffened in his hold and took a deep breath, “Once.”

“Really?” he probed. “Who was it? Was it Tyler?”

You snorted, “Tyler was in tenth grade, dude.”

“I know, but still. I’ll kick his ass. Or whoever it was.”

A nervous bubble caught in your throat. He didn’t know, and he shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“Well, again. They’re an idiot, whoever they are. Besides, you’ll always have me.”

You gave him a small smile, hoping to hide the pain that the memories brought with them.

Jensen draped his arm across your shoulders, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder as you shook off the emotions from so long ago.

You continued, “He, um… he asked me about you, right before we had lunch. I don’t think he liked how close we are.”

Jensen pulled back a bit, an unreadable expression on his face, but you were quick to grab his hand and tug him back towards you, lacing your fingers with his, “but, I don’t care. I don’t want to be with anyone who can’t respect this friendship. We’ve been through everything together.”

With that, he smiled and squeezed your hand, bending his elbow so that you were almost in a headlock and he could plant his lips to your forehead. He lingered for a moment as you both sat, tangled in each other’s arms. He released your hand and ran his soothingly along your side before getting up to stir the chili.

It was true. You didn’t care who came along, Jensen would always be your best friend.

The two of you ate seated on your oversized sofa and watched Elf, a favorite of yours and Jensen’s, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Jensen was right – it wasn’t your mom’s chili, but it was damn good. Grabbing the last spoonful, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped as it landed on your tongue. Jensen’s eyes snapped to you, the sound making something within him stir.

Dropping the spoon in your bowl, you set it on the coffee table and leaned back, satisfied.

“That was amazing, dude. Remind me to tell you to cook more often.”

He laughed, grabbing your bowl and his and setting to work at the sink to load the dishwasher. You got up to help, but he snapped his fingers, making you sit back down with a grin.

“So, how was your meeting with Stacy today?”

He wiped his hands on the dish towel that hung on his shoulder after cutting of the sink, “Oh, uh…” he paused, looking down and busying himself with starting the dishwasher. “She brought me a script. It’s a different character, to say the least. A single dad who meets a small-town woman when he moves to a new place with his kids.”

“That’s interesting. What’d you think of it?”

“She’s going to send in my stuff, and we’ll see how that goes. I wouldn’t mind getting it… could be pretty cool.” He shrugged casually, but something in his expression told you he really wanted it. “It’s a really competitive part, though. A lot of interest, so she wants me to keep up my image.”

He returned to join you on the couch with a fresh beer, casually draping his legs across your lap as you asked, “What does that mean? You’ve got a good image. You’re not scandalous or anything.”

“Yeah, but I’m a ‘bachelor’.” He replied, using air quotes to indicate that Stacy used that term specifically. “She thinks I’d have a better shot at the part if I were in a relationship or something. Even threw around the idea of just finding someone to help me out for a bit so I could look like a committed man.” He huffed out a laugh at the ridiculous request.

You’d heard of some of the lengths agents would go through, but you could never imagine being asked to do something like that, even from your own. “You mean, like… a fake girlfriend?”

Leaning his back against the armrest, he stretched out as you scooted closer, with his knees coming to rest over your thighs and his legs extended as you both got comfortable. “Apparently, but I told her it was a bad idea. I wouldn’t feel right finding some random girl and selling a rouse.”

You nodded, your hands casually laying over his strong thighs, “That doesn’t sound like you, so yeah… I get how that could be hard.”

He sighed heavily before sipping his beer once more. Gruffly, he seemingly put the issue to bed for the time being, “Yeah, well you know how it is. If I get it, cool. If not, oh well. I’ll just keep up my appearances. Besides, I get to go to work with you every day now. Wouldn’t want to change that, right?” he nudged you with his foot, grinning at you.

Jensen had encouraged you to apply for a position on the show in season two and you were lucky enough to be considered. He’d been so excited that he’d flown you up from your shared hometown. Prior to that, you hadn’t seen him much since he moved to L.A. shortly after you’d both turned 18. The haunting memory of him driving away crept up as you studied his face, looking very much like the boy you’d always known but also the man he’d grown into. It’s in the past, you thought to yourself as you quelled the small amount of lingering feelings of that day.

You simply smiled back, finding yourself a bit lost in thought.

“Hey.” Jensen said, grabbing your attention. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About the Stephen thing?”

You realized in that moment that you hadn’t thought about Stephen since Jensen started cooking dinner. He’d done a great job of distracting you, but you also didn’t want him to know what you were thinking about. “Actually, no. I think you helped out a bit with that.”

A proud expression donned his features as he puffed his chest, obviously pleased that he completed his mission successfully. You chatted a bit more until you grabbed your tablet to do a bit of shopping and you both fell into a comfortable silence. You turned away to hide the item that you’d added to your cart, seeing as it was a little something extra for him. Pleased with the items you’d found for your family back home, and that they’d get to you before your flight in a few weeks, you placed your tablet on the coffee table before snuggling into Jensen’s side, who was enthralled with the animated Rudolph film playing on your TV. He was always a sucker for Christmas movies, though he might not confess that to anyone but you.

The stress of the day began to wear on you, and you soon found yourself drifting off. Between your comfy pajamas and Jensen’s heartbeat in your ear, you fell into a peaceful sleep.

You awoke the next morning to the sunrise shining faintly through the curtains adorning your living room windows, confused to find yourself in the room. With a sleepy mind, you slowly shifted as you began to stretch your limbs but froze slightly when you met resistance. Eyes widening, still heavy with sleep, you came to find yourself snuggled against Jensen’s chest with the blanket from the back of your couch draped over you both. Your back was towards the cushions as you lay on your side, tucked beneath his shoulder and curled into his body with legs tangled beneath you. He was on his back, his one arm securely wrapped around your shoulders and the other resting on his midsection and your forearm that was enclosed around his trim waist. As gently as you could, afraid he might wake, you tilted your head to gaze at his sleeping form. His face was peaceful as he slept, his mouth slightly open and his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm.

Content to savor the moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling of being in his arms and nestled a bit further into the blankets, finding the chill of the morning slightly eased from his body heat.

You awoke again a bit later, when the sun had settled high in the sky, roused by something feathering across your cheek.

Jensen’s velvety voice jogged your sleepy mind, “Y/n? You awake?”

His thumb was slowly caressing across the apples of your cheekbones, the touch sending a shockwave through every inch of your body and straight to your chest. When you opened your eyes, he was peering down at you still in his arms with so much emotion behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. He smiled warmly, his dimples, freckles, and crinkles all present in the light. He was looking at you with such adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Came his usual greeting, but you couldn’t help but shiver at the gruffness and tone, stealing a glance at his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

Tearing your eyes from his face, you stretched slightly, “I did. Very well, actually. You’re a nice pillow.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your head, “Yeah, I guess I am. I was gonna move you to bed, but I didn��t want to wake you. And I’ll say, I was quite comfy myself.”

Jensen ran his hands up and down your side and back, almost as if it was second nature to do so, before he moved to sit up. You did so first, giving him the space to swing his legs over the edge of the couch and set to work at the coffee maker. Taking a moment to head to the bathroom and brush your teeth, you smiled finding him with your mug already at the windowsill.

“Thank you.” You said, picking it up and taking a seat across from him.

“Thank you for the sleepover.” He grinned, toasting towards you with his own cup.

After a few moments of chit chat about how happy you both were that the snow had lasted, you made you both breakfast and ate together at your kitchen island.

“So, what are you going to do about Stacy’s idea? Have you given it any more thought?” you asked around a mouthful of bacon.

“Actually, um… yeah. I have.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that it sounded like he was considering her proposition of getting a girlfriend to help his image, but urged him continue none-the-less, “Oh, yeah?”

“I was��I was actually thinking about it this morning. What if—and you can totally say no—but what if you were my pretend girlfriend?” he proposed, looking toward you nervously.

Nearly choking on your breakfast, sure you’d heard him incorrectly, you stared at him in surprise, “Are you serious, Jay?”

“Well, it was just a thought, you know. The fans think I’m with you, anyway, considering they know how close we are and have always been. You’re all over my social media already and I get a ton of comments about you all the time. It would be a cute story, but I totally understand if that’s pushing things too far.”

Still in shock, you hardly registered the sip of coffee you’d taken before putting your mug back on the counter. Your arms and legs felt like Jell-O as he looked at you expectantly.

“Are you sure I’m the type of girl Stacy had in mind? I mean, you’re you ya know. I’m hardly a celebrity or anything and I don’t have a ton of clout. What would the story be?”

He perked up a bit, seemingly please that you were asking more questions. Maybe that meant you were considering it. “It might be good to play the childhood sweetheart angle, but this would only ever happen if you were 100% okay with it. I’d never do anything that would make you uncomfortable in any way. Then, maybe after a few months, we decide to just stay friends. We wouldn’t even need to necessarily announce it to the world or anything but getting people to talk wouldn’t hurt and we just wouldn’t correct the rumors.” He looked into your eyes and took your hand in his, “Y/n, I swear… if it’s too much you can call me crazy and it’ll be no hard feelings whatsoever. No job or role would ever be enough that I’d jeopardize anything with you. It was really just an idea that I had, and it can be shot back out into the abyss and we can forget it ever came up.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, considering his proposition. It wouldn’t be so hard to fake it for a bit, would it? It’s not like much would change. You were already always together, and yeah, people had been speculating about the two of you for years, especially when you started working on set. “What about our families, Jay? What would we tell them?”

He considered your point for a moment. Both sets of parents had been friends for more than thirty years and would no doubt be aware of the rumors once they started, but again that wasn’t anything new. They’d been answering the same questions about you as a pair since you were kids. “We can tell them we’re together, or not. It would be whatever you choose, but we can always keep things vague for a while. We can even chat with Stacy together and see what would be needed, but it’s all totally up to you.”

Running it through your mind in that moment, it didn’t seem much different than what you and Jensen already were – best friends that everyone, everyone speculated about. Giving Jensen the opportunity to appear he had settled down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?

With a hint of a smile, you nodded, “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he said, an obvious shock written across his face.

“Yeah… I mean it’s like you said. Not much would be different anyways, right? We can meet with Stacy, for sure, but it’s alright with me.”

He pulled you in for a tight hug, “You’re seriously the best, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m going to treat you like the queen you are for as long as this goes on. You’re gonna get spoiled.”

“Well, then…” you teased, patting his back as he kept you in his arms, “At least I’m getting something out of the deal.”

“Oh, trust me, Y/n. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Suddenly, you thought maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, given the way your blood began to rush as he shot you a wink.

To be continued...

................................................................................................................................

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It was you

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Jensen Only

@mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

191 notes · View notes

bluegarners · 3 years

Text

By popular demand, I have written a Part 2 for mainstay for @viceturtle. Thank you so much @newsical for being an immense help with this!!

Part 1.

This chapter was inspired by this conversation between @bigskydreaming and @fuyunoakegata

ao3

There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness.

He thinks everyone has at least some degree of it within themselves. A refusal to move or consent to something. Sure, some don’t hesitate long. They give. They bend. They break. But the stubbornness is in that hesitation. That moment of ‘Am I really doing this? Should I be doing this? Why in the world should I do this?’. It’s about the pause, is what he’s trying to get at, that makes stubbornness so inherent to each individual.

It breathes in the form of grudges. Arguments. Games of she-said-he-said-they-said. Right or wrong. I told you so’s and I’m not sorry’s.

Jason does all of those things like it's second nature. He’s not going to pretend like he’s some saint who can understand the other side and reason with them. If he thinks he’s right, it’s not a matter of if the other person is actually right or wrong. He knows he’s right, so it doesn’t matter in the end. He knows what he knows, and if he doesn’t— whatever. Immovable object and all that.

So, yeah. There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness.

He calls Red Robin anyway.

“He’s gone.”

“Sorry, what? I need context for this. There’s a lot of people this could apply to—”

“Dick. Dick is gone.”

“Oh. Like, just now he left?”

“I don’t know. Some guy came and took him.”

“As much as I love vague conversations, this isn’t helping me and I don’t understand why you’re calling in the first place.”

“Dick is fucking. Gone. What do you not understand about that.”

“Jesus, I don’t know, Jason. What, is he not supposed to be gone? He said he was going to leave again. He already said ‘hi’ to Damian, so I don’t see why he would stick around any longer.”

“Hm.”

“Fuck me, didn’t you know? This was all just- just some visit for him. Sure, he’ll be back eventually, but fuck knows if he’s actually—”

He hangs up. Pockets his phone. Listens as the rain continues to drench the world outside of his little apartment. His shoulders hurt. There’s a bruise on his chest. Right between his fifth and sixth ribs. He has a split lip. He put ointment on it earlier but it still stings. His knees ache. He has a distant memory of his mother complaining about her knees too. Something about the weather making them act up.

He’s twenty-three.

He’s getting old.

On the table next to him is a box of cigarettes. Low-tar. Filtered. In his right pocket, there’s a lighter he got from someone years ago. He doesn’t know. Maybe he stole it. Found it.

He pulls it out. Shakes a cigarette out of the thin box. Holds the paper wrapped nicotine between his lips, lifting the lighter and thumbing the flink strike.

Click.

He shakes the lighter. Tries again.

Click.

Gotham hasn’t had this much rain in a long time. It’s nearing October. Maybe it’s in season or whatever weather does. He doesn’t know the term.

Click.

It’s raining outside. Jason can see it. There’s raindrops on his window. He can hear it clattering against the fire-escape. Gray and black and mixes of yellow from street lamps below. Jason is inside on the comfort of his couch. Sure, it’s not the best apartment, but it doesn’t leak. The ceiling is fine and he hasn’t had any problems with it before. His face is wet though. He doesn’t know why.

Click.

The cigarette falls from his lips and lands with a thud on the stained carpet. The T.V is on. Says the storm over Gotham will last for the next few days. An unprecedented seven inches of rain predicted. The GCPD is advising everyone to stay indoors. Crime is expected to rise with the water levels.

Click.

His clothes are still soaked. He’s probably ruining his couch. He can’t remember if he took his boots off or not.

Click.

Jason sighs. His chest feels heavy, like someone is sitting on top of him. It’s just him though. Only him in his apartment. He likes having his own space. The neighbors get loud sometimes, but it’s not as if he’s a five star resident either. It’s always been like this. He is…. Alone.

Click.

Dick was gone. Came back. And now, Dick is gone again. Did he do that? Did he drive him away? Is this his fault? Jason doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. Doesn’t know if he doesn’t care at all, but at least the rain is nice to listen to. Yeah. The rain is really nice. Consistent. Steady.

Click.

He didn’t take off his boots.

~oOo~

One month is all it takes.

One month and Nightwing is out spotted in Bludhaven, his photo splashed across every news outlet from Gotham to Metropolis. New Jersey missed its boy in blue and cheers at his return.

Nightwing stays in Bludhaven though. Red Hood stays in Gotham. Just as it used to be. Back to normal. Yeah.

The rain stopped a week ago.

Jason misses the noise.

~oOo~

“Won’t you come?”

“No.”

“Please, Master Jason? We would love to have you here. It has been too long.”

“I can’t.”

“I thought you loved turkey. There’ll be plenty of leftovers and I know you’ve been meaning to return the tupperware from last time. It’ll be good for you to leave that apartment of yours.”

“I have better things to do than play nice and talk politics in Brucie Wayne’s mansion. I’m not coming.”

“I know you have your own quarrels with Master Dick, but—”

“It’s not about him. I don’t give a fuck about what he’s doing or what stick Bruce has up his ass this time. I am not walking into the line of fire just to save everyone else an evening of beating around the bush. I. Am. Not. Going.”

“. . . Then won’t you at least visit? I miss you. I worry about you.”

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

“I am too, my boy.”

Click.

Jason spends Thanksgiving out in the Narrows. He’s not rich, doesn’t want to be, but he has money. Plenty he doesn’t need to spend on himself. He goes grocery shopping. Fills two, three carts worth of canned food and rotisserie chickens. Goes home, carries the bags in all at once. Organizes them.

Single. Partners. Family.

He leaves his apartment. He is not Jason Todd. He is not Red Hood. He’s just some guy out in the Narrows.

He hands out the bags. Has the decency to look the people in the eyes, knowing he was that street kid once. Seeing his mother in each dirty, beaten face he comes across. Pitying the drunken men and the addicts. They accept his offerings. It would be stupid not to. No one says thank you. He doesn’t need them to.

He goes home. His arms are sore. The bruises have completely faded.

The apartment is empty.

Click

Sometimes, there are days where he doesn’t know why.

That’s a big concept: why?

He thinks it carries too much weight. Maybe if he had survived past tenth grade, he could’ve signed up for a philosophy or debate class, maybe shed some light on that particular question, but he didn’t. Survive. So, he only has his own mind to ponder the concept. He’s read a couple books. Never fully understood the words he read though. He would’ve liked to, but he didn’t. Understand.

But it’s up to interpretation right? So, here’s where he’s at.

Jason doesn’t understand or know why sometimes, and it becomes a problem.

He doesn’t understand why he got such a bad hand for parents. Why Bruce didn’t grieve like Jason wanted him to (so desperately yearned for, screamed for, died for). Why someone thought it was a good idea for him to live out a second-still-the-same life. Why he came back so different. (Was he? Different? He doesn’t think he came back wrong but he doesn’t know a lot. Well, he does. But, if he came back wrong then that means he wasn’t right to begin with and he’s always right and if he’s wrong then—).

He doesn’t know why he punched Dick. He didn’t want to. Not really. But he did. Want to. Badly so. Wanted proof, wanted penance, wanted forgiveness, wanted retribution, wanted that sting that comes with reality and the regret of a little something called mortality. Horse drawn carriage alongside Death, patting the seat next to it.

Okay, he knows why .

He doesn’t understand why, though.

Jason doesn’t understand why he gets so angry sometimes. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right, like he’s supposed to be feeling something else but he’s just flipped upside down so there’s no point in trying to right himself. He’s always right anyway. Yeah. Yeah.

He doesn’t understand why he says things, why he opens his mouth at all when he regrets them so quickly after. He yells a lot. Raises his voice and spits mean words and cusses worse than anyone else he knows and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. But he doesn’t learn. Doesn’t rethink it, doesn’t look back and remember the lesson he taught himself. You can’t be taught if you’re always right anyway, so what’s the point? Why regret it when he’s just going to do it again?

That’s a big word: why.

There are answers attached to the word. Reasons for the question being asked. Explanations and solutions and resolutions.

Jason is good at solving problems, is quick to work around it and get the job done. And a question is just a problem being asked, right? It’s verbal, that’s the only difference, so if he’s such a good problem solver, if he’s such a goddamn good thinker and understands things like philosophy and literature and great big concepts and words—

Why did he do that? Why did he say those things? Why can’t he make up his fucking mind? Why is he the way he is? Why does he just push and shove and drive away everyone and everything? Why did he come back different? Why did he come back wrong? Why didn’t Bruce love him enough to end things? Why was he worth a second chance when he screws up and regrets so much? Why do people still fucking try with him? Why can’t he get one goddamn thing right? Why is he always—

Click.

“Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

Click.

Red Hood is in Gotham. Nightwing is too. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. The air is cold and there’s ice in the wind. It’s a clear night. A quiet frost coats the rooftop and Jason can hear his brother’s footsteps.

“We missed you, you know. Here, Agent A wanted me to give you these.”

Jason turns. Dick is holding out a duffle-cooler. He stands six feet away.

“They’re just leftovers. Turkey, sweet potatoes, casserole, pie; the fixings.”

Jason doesn’t move. Neither does Dick. To anyone else, it would look like a stand-off between Nightwing and Red Hood, neutral ground tensions. They both know it’s not.

It is cold and there is ice in the wind and the rainy season is long past. When they breathe, it erupts out of them in the form of white vapor and Jason can only think of the fact that it looks like smoke. His lighter still doesn’t work. It sits in his right pocket. He wants to take it out. Hear the click.

“There’s some beer too,” Dick adds softly, voice carried away and twisted in the sharp air. “I have a bottle opener.”

Nightwing walks a few paces away to sit against an A/C unit, shielding himself from the wind. He sets the cooler down beside him, unzipping the duffle and pulling out two bottles of a brand Jason doesn’t recognize, and pats the space next to him. Horse drawn carriage.

Why is a big concept. A big word. Maybe one of the bigger questions in the repertoire.

He doesn’t know nor understand why he takes the offered seat. He just does. It feels right to do so. Jason takes the offered bottle too and opens it himself. Hands back the blade. Takes a sip.

It’s cold. It warms him.

He doesn’t understand:

“Why?”

Dick swirls the alcohol around, bubbles rising to the surface. “Why, what?”

There’s a lot of things Jason could say. Could ask. He’s had two months to think about a question that would fit the answer he’s trying so hard to get; one that would satisfy the cavern that just keeps getting wider and wider, this empty presence that digs deeper inside him. He likes to think it would be a really intelligent question, one that would stump his all knowing brother; the one with all the answers in the world and a smile to accompany it. Dick had been on this pedestal for as long as Jason can remember. Had been placed so high above himself, even now, it’s impossible for him to reach, fingers a thousand miles away from ever grazing the top.

A lot of people would tell him he’s done this to himself. That the things he decides to do, his actions, what he says to other people and what they do as a consequence; all a product of his own creation. Even the cavern inside of him, filled with stalagmites and cobwebs and so many empty boxes, perhaps he did that to himself. He— He did that. To himself.

But Jason doesn’t like being wrong. Doesn’t like the fear that invades every nerve in his body when faced with the possibility of being so far off from the mark that it comes back and strikes him in the face. He’s paid the price for being wrong, has the scars and the memories and the stories to prove it, but he’s also been right, over and over again, and it feels so good to be right.

It felt good to punch his brother.

It felt good to have a reason to do so.

The anger, the fear, the possessive guilt that clung to him in those months where Dick was dead and he was at the wheel, knowing he was going to crash and burn eventually and probably take everyone with him. He played the long game and knew the end result. Jason had fooled himself with the thought of taking Dick’s place, thinking he could climb up that enormous pedestal he had placed there himself all those years ago. Torn down and resurrected today.

He doesn’t have a question though. Not a singular, all encompassing question that would piece together every missing hole inside of him and fill the void. His mother used to tell him he talked too much, that a big mouth like his would one day get him into trouble. She also told him that he was smart and curious and kind and so much more than anything she would ever be able to give him. Jason doesn’t understand why she said so many contrary things. Wishes he could ask her, have the opportunity to finally get the answers he wanted from her when he left everything behind just for a chance to do so. He can’t though. She died. He died too.

Dick didn’t.

“Why did you leave?”

His brother stops swirling the contents of his bottle, choosing instead to release a heavy sigh that travels into the air in a thick cloud of tired gray and remorse. “I wasn’t in a good place at the time. Leaving felt like the only good thing left I could do. Batman gave me the mission and I… I took it.”

“What part of letting us all think you were dead was ‘good’? How does that translate to ‘good’ in your world?”

“I wasn’t a part of that decision,” Dick says pointedly, setting down his beer and thunking his head back to rest against the unit. “I was still comatose by the time Batman had broken the news to everyone else. I told you, Hood, I had no choice. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was all that made sense to do.”

He pauses, a hand coming up to scrub at the sides of his face. “Robin had just… died. Protecting me. I got captured by people with faces I’ve known my entire life and couldn’t escape them. I let myself get hooked up to that- that machine and exposed my identity to the entire world. Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to you all, had I stayed? Everyone knew who Nightwing was under the mask. It would’ve— People would have figured the rest out soon enough. When Batman offered me the opportunity to at least make something right, I took it.”

Something unsettles inside Jason’s chest. Leaking, fracturing. It feels wrong. He feels- “So, what? You left because you felt bad ? Gallivanted off as soon as the opportunity was presented? Oh, I’m sure you’d love to do that again. Hey, Nightwing, tell me, are you feeling bad right now? Would you like a one-way ticket to Spain? I bet that’d make you feel much better.”

Dick frowns, head swiveling to look at Jason. “If that’s how you’d like to picture it, then fine. Yeah, I felt bad about exposing my entire family’s identities. I felt bad about letting down Batman and getting myself taken. I felt bad about dying and not being—”

“Quit fucking saying you died! You didn’t. You put on a good show, I’ll give you that, but having a model that looks just like you being buried in the ground doesn’t qualify as you dying. Get the fuck over yourself.”

A sharp crack meets his words and Jason snaps his head over to see Dick’s bottle broken against the ground, the older man having knocked it over with his hand.

Nightwing’s white lenses are staring at him and Red Hood meets his gaze unflinchingly, if only for the reason that he can’t see his brother’s eyes. There was something to be said about clear eyes in a city full of smog and endless voids, and Jason has looked enough people in the eye to know when to blink and walk away. The dark does not have a gaze to collapse within and yet there is empty white surrounding them.

“Come with me.”

Why is too big of a word.

Jason follows anyway.

He’s at the end of his rope in asking questions he knows no one will be able to answer. Knows that the answer he wants is not one anyone is willing to give, or even can give. See, Jason knows why. Has an understanding with the concept in a personal way unlike anyone else will ever have. He knows, understands, gets exactly what the question demands with all of its little fallacies and conundrums and ever so many follow ups. If he could, Jason would shake hands with it, an agreement to never speak a word of its existence ever again. But, how could he ponder the question when he himself cannot bear to fathom his own existence?

Nightwing is already scaling down a fire-escape, duffle-cooler slung over his shoulder, and Jason watches his head disappear below the roof line. He stands up, feet numb and hands feeling bitten, and side glances the broken bottle and the one he’s leaving behind. Even with the bleak, gray weather, the glass twinkles and shimmers in the ice, and, just faintly, Jason can smell the alcohol in the wind. Gotham is a city filled with muck, grease, scum, and litter. There is no difference in adding their own to the ever increasing pile, and yet Jason cannot help amend himself with the thought that at least their trash is beautiful in the cold.

He walks over to the edge of the roof, peering down to where he can see Nightwing traveling up a different, rusted ladder, ready to seek a new vantage point for wherever it is he’s decided to lead Jason. He doesn’t have his helmet on tonight, just a plain domino to hide his face, and the frost cuts against his nose and lips. A shiver runs through his body and Jason slides down into the alleyway below, keeping his brother in eye-sight. Nightwing launches a grapple, clinging to another building about 200 meters away, and Red Hood follows suit, the chill buffering inside of his jacket.

They arrive at one of those motel looking buildings, the outward appearance completely abandoned. Bruce had built this many years ago, one of the first of several safe-houses, and for all intents and purposes, it served to only attract the kinds of people that knew how to keep their mouths shut. The “general office” is where Dick walks into, a separate facility from the boarding rooms. He waits for Jason to enter, having taken a back door of four inches of solid steel, and locks it behind them once the younger has entered as well.

Dick throws the duffle onto one of the chairs inside the room, and rolls his shoulders in a circular motion, a long sigh escaping him. Somewhere, Jason can hear the heater kicking on.

He thumbs his lighter.

Click.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing, waiting by the door for Dick to make the first move. His brother says nothing though, continuing to move his joints around and rub his hands furiously together. He doesn’t even glance at Jason as he leaves the main room, entering another side door and into, what Jason assumes is, a bathroom. Left alone, Jason keeps his boots on and sits down.

Click.

He waits. Peels off his mask and winces at the pull on his skin. Rubs at his eyes and forehead. Sighs.

Click. Click.

He stares at the domino in his lap, regretting having taken it off. Dick could look him in the eye now. He didn’t— He doesn’t like that. You only look people in the eye when you want to convey something, be it emotion, honesty, or purely how much you don’t give a shit. Jason doesn’t know what it meant when he looked at all those people in the Narrows a few days ago. Doesn’t know what it meant when they looked at him. Who was he, then? He was no one. No one.

Click.

The bathroom door opens and Dick steps out wearing a thick tank top and a long pair of joggers. Just beyond the cracked doorway, Jason can see his Nightwing suit hung up against a rack. The remnants of irritated skin also pepper his brother’s face, red and splotchy.

Dick looks up and meets his gaze.

Click.

“This the part where you try to argue yourself right?”

His older brother frowns. “No, it’s not.”

Jason looks away.

Click. Click. Click.

“What’s that in your pocket?”

“Just some old lighter. It doesn’t work.”

“Ah.”

The stiff silence reverberates between them. Normally, when conversation isn’t invited, Dick would go off somewhere and find something to do; something in his head urging him to seek out an offering. It was a tactic the older man used often, something to hold or something else to focus your attention on making an otherwise shaky atmosphere comfortable. When he was still Robin, it was a ploy Jason found himself enjoying sometimes, where Nightwing would meet him on some pre-designated roof carrying hot chocolate or donuts and Jason would gripe to the older man about Bruce’s latest restriction or Batman’s newest growl. Their conversations would last well into the night and it was their secret they kept together, a fall-back to go to when things were too uncertain or days were too long.

Those memories were nice. Fond, even.

Dick does not have an offering this time.

“Did you believe I was dead?”

Jason sucks in a breath, fingers stilling against his lighter. “Yes.” Pause. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Jason fires back. “It was on live television for Christ’s sake, Dick! Half the world watched you die.”

“It’s not as if doctored film has never been done before, even if it was live. At some point, it cut off too. I’ve watched the video myself. My death wasn’t shown on screen.”

“There was audio. I could hear your heart stopping on the machine.”

“There was a lot of fighting going on. It was chaos.”

“Fine, I didn’t see you die and the video was shit. But Bruce told us you were dead. Batman told us you had died.”

“And Batman doesn’t lie.”

“Fuck you.”

Dick sighs, leaning back against one of the walls. “Look, I’m not trying to pick another fight with you. I don’t want to.”

“Then what. Do. You. Want,” Jason grounds out, rising from his chair. “I’m sick of this. I am so sick of not knowing what the fuck is going on with you and Bruce, with all of your little secrets and fake-deaths and—”

“It wasn’t fake,” Dick interrupts, standing his ground. “It may not have been for long, but my heart did stop. I died in that machine, Jason, and I’m upset you guys accepted that.”

“Well, what the fuck else were we supposed to do?” Jason erupts, flinging his arms wide. “Fucking poke at your body until you were alive again? Wait next to your corpse in the morgue with your suit on hand, just in case you decided to wake up?”

“You could’ve at least doubted, ” Dick hisses. Jason can hear the heater still humming. The room is cold though. Bitter. “At the very least, you guys could’ve looked into it. Bruce isn’t the perfect, untouchable beast we’ve made him into. He left a trail. A trail that would have led right to the fake body he created while I was comatose. A trail that would have shown the Batmobile needing repairs it shouldn’t have needed. A trail that would have shown the documents he forged to get me into Spyral. There were so many things, Jason! So many goddamn things that would have shown you guys I wasn’t dead!”

“If you wanted to be found so badly, why didn’t you tell us?” Jason snarls, that leaking fracture in his chest pooling into his lungs. “Why didn’t you say a single word if you were so desperate for someone to notice?”

“I already told you,” Dick says quietly. “I needed to make things right. Bruce offered a way to do it and I needed that; the space, away from everything, everyone, in my life that I knew I had failed. I don’t regret it, and I am sorry it caused so much pain, but—”

Click.

“—was it really so wrong to want someone to save me?”

The leak implodes and Jason stops breathing.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. I should be able to handle these things, but I— there was this moment where I convinced myself that none of what was happening was real and that it was all some nightmare I was watching.”

The blows had stung and burned in the way only rusted metal against bone and flesh could. His left eye was bleeding and his nose had been broken long ago. After the thirtieth strike, Jason had somehow convinced himself it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t there, in that old warehouse, and that he wasn’t some child-soldier-hero being beaten to death by a maniac who laughed and giggled at his pain.

“When I woke up, I really believed that. I-I was so convinced and then Bruce showed up and gave me this mission and, god, Jason, how could I have ever said no? I had failed. Bruce told me I failed. ”

He remembers that sadistic clock in the corner. Silent up until the last ten seconds. It had its own little tick, a click, and it was the stupidest looking bomb Jason had ever seen, bright red and just any old alarm clock with a few extra wires. A nightmare. All just a nightmare and Jason had begged the universe for him to wake up. For someone, anyone, to save him. For Batman to come swooping in and rescue him from his stupid fucking mistakes but—

Click.

Dick breathes out, a shuttering exhale that rocks him to his core. “Spyral, the mission, everything after… It was my penance, I think. Bruce’s way of forgiving me for failing. There was just no other way, Jason. It was all I had left. I guess I had just hoped someone was still in my corner, even after fucking it all up, you know?”

He does. Jason does know with a clarity that haunts him every morning he wakes up and finds the events unchanged. There are cobwebs and old boxes inside his cavern, the place where his soul used to be, but he knows. He knows he came back wrong. That he came back different. That something inside of him was missing when he opened his eyes to mystic green and an emptiness that plagued him until he came back to Gotham; rage, fear, and a deep sadness taking up that empty space inside of him. He doesn’t know how many times he’s asked himself ‘why?’ only to ignore the answer given to him. Too many.

And maybe Dick has asked that same question as well. Maybe he has his own cavern deep inside of him, filled with his own fragmented cobwebs and starved crates, ghosts that continue to follow his every step, and whispers that forever ring in his ears. Perhaps the dead carry memories and questions wherever they go, and perhaps that is their sole purpose. They only stay to recount and wish and want and only breach the word “if” and “maybe”.

But they are alive now. They live. They breathe.

Jason thought death connected himself to his elder brother, but perhaps it was the voids inside of them both that bound them together. The desperation that clung to their beings, seeking approval, seeking retribution, seeking out anything that’ll make them feel whole once more after having been stripped bare and left in the throes of Death's carriage. This was the tie that bound them together. It wasn’t Bruce. It wasn’t Robin. It wasn’t death.

It was simply the missing pieces inside of them. Brothers not by blood, but by the very nature of their search for meaning. And that was all.

“Yeah,” Jason says, the molten gravity of this answer leaving him boneless. “Okay.”

Dick stares at him with the same clear eyes he’s looked at his younger brother with since day one. Something passes behind those eyes, a shift in the monumental focus that is Dick Grayson’s ever present gaze, and the heater continues to thrum in the background, just as ubiquitous as Gotham always was and always will be for them. There was a fundamental alteration inside them both, something taken from them that can’t be replaced, and Jason feels as though he is not alone anymore. There is another presence, another existence, in his life full of betrayal that shares the same scars and the same emptiness that has captured him since the day Bruce stopped hoping for him.

“Okay?” Dick repeats quietly, and Jason can hear the echo inside his chest. “Is that all?”

“No,” Jason murmurs, easing back into the chair he had left. “No, it’s not. But I… I can’t do more of this right now. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t either,” Dick sighs, the exhaustion from his own ordeals weighing down his shoulders and causing him to slide down the wall. “It’s— I never wanted to, Jason. You know that, right?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I guess- We deal with it, right?”

Jason wants to laugh. Maybe give a little less weight on his back to the warm air around them, but it sounds like a lot to do. He exhales instead, something maybe interpretable as a tired grin lifting his mouth. “Another time, then?”

Perhaps that is a statement that can’t be guaranteed nor promised. Time is scarce in their world, more so than anyone else's, but it is a scarcity they are well accustomed to. Death had departed in Its carriage, the seat left warm by their presence, but for now, they had left and that was all that really mattered. Why they left, why they need time they don’t have, why the caverns inside of them exist. All questions that have been answered before. Maybe when the sky isn’t gray, or when the rain isn’t pounding against fractured ceilings, they can begin to make amends and go from there. But the safe-house is warm.

It is warm.

“Another time.”

#dick grayson #jason todd #spyral #agent 37 #nightwing #red hood #hurt/comfort #bad things happen bingo #what have i done?#part 2 #my fic #fanfic #txt #yes there will be a part 3!! i am not leaving this unresolved- this was just another conversation i wanted them to have

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Right on time

Pairing: Spike x reader; Faith x reader [reader dates men & women]

Request: Not requested. I’m trying to write whatever’s coming into my head even if it isn’t my best so that I can be inspired to write something potentially better for a fic someone’s requested lolll. Requests will still be written but they may be a little slower than normal sorry 💖

Desc: Reader was in a relationship with Faith but since she was in a coma the reader turned to Spike for comfort and feelings begin to grow.

Warning: Sex references; set in hospital; mention or discussion of a kind of loss. swearing.

The walls appeared to be closing in again. The noise around you lulled every so often with a sombre silence. The hollowed eyes of loss surrounded you but had no reason to look your way. They were all stuck in their own minds. A funeral march in the making.

The occasional laughter bubbled up, from those that clutched hope so desperately their knuckles were perpetually white. It didn’t feel right in this place though, it was a surreal room that held both the impending horror and delight depending on what the doctor said next. You could nearly taste it in the air it was that strong. The mixture of such strong emotions blanketed the room in a thick tension. A kind of purgatory.

You were sitting in the adjoined café to the hospital coaxing your mug to give you some answers when you didn’t even know what questions to ask. You stared into your mug, wishing it could offer you come kind of comfort. The human touch you craved just couldn’t be replicated. Her touch. It had been so long now that you had almost given up.

Faith was in a coma. The only woman you had ever fallen in love with couldn’t open her eyes. Could barely breathe on her own. She shouldn’t be lying there. She didn’t deserve that, no matter the choices she made. She didn’t deserve to end her days this way. Or any way, in your opinion.

When you had been together, just the two of you it had been so good. You redefined the meaning of love together. You were unapologetically each other’s. You promised forever and she had been taken away from you.

She had confided in you in a way that she couldn’t with anyone else. You shared hushed whispers, swapping your pasts beneath the sheets together. You had loved her when she lived out of a motel and you had loved her just the same when she lived in her apartment that the Mayor had bought for her.

She could be so soft when she wanted to be. Holding you into her and not letting the cruel world touch either of you. You were completely embraced by her adoration and you just hope that she felt the same.

That she knew that you would rather be in her place. That you loved her just as much now as you did the first day you whispered those words to her. Your skin on hers, wrapped in a sheet as the afternoon stretched out before you. It had been such bliss.

You still visited every Friday. Held her hand and told her that you love her. Spoke to her, told her everything about your life. Everything except…

Spike. He appeared before you just as your mind turned to him. As it often did, recently. You squinted, thinking he must have followed you.

This was unlike him anymore. He would usually wait around the crypt or in the alley around the back of the Bronze for you to decide the inevitable. That you would spend the night with him. Losing yourself in his touch. Fucking him until you could almost forget her. But you never did, of course.

You both knew the arrangement, don’t get attached. Don’t stay for breakfast (or dinner, should it be that way around). It suited you both. It was for comfort, you had both found yourselves increasingly isolated. On the peripheries of the Scoobies whilst still being hauled back in to help when they remembered you both existed. Still, there was no warmth from them. None of them trusted either of you.

You turned to each other, shielding from the cold. The loneliness that seeped in no matter how you tried to protect yourselves. The reality was that you needed each other. These nights were necessary. The sex was good, you both knew you couldn’t get better anywhere else.

Admittedly though, more recently you became more and more present in those moments. Where you wouldn’t leave as soon as you finished. You had been shuffling away without a word passing between you. Not so much as a thank you, come again.

No, you now didn’t even put up the pretence of going to the Bronze first. You found your way to him as soon as you could. You found yourself increasingly enjoying his presence. Which was something you hadn’t consciously found yourself feeling since Faith got hurt. Enjoyment. Maybe even happiness. In a strange way, Spike made you feel more than you could remember feeling.

One evening, you stayed up the entire night. Talking. His mind spoke to you. A connection that was fast becoming unbreakable since. Neither of you even suggested more and you hadn’t realised this until the morning came and you woke up with his arms draped around you. It was a soft intimacy that you hadn’t found yourself expecting but now it was happening you only wanted more of it.

More of him.

You hadn’t realised but Spike had been falling even before that night. He had a taste of you. Your body and mind. He saw the ugliest parts of you, the guilt and the sadness that you tried to conceal and loved you wholly.

He wanted to comfort you. Wanted to protect you from your sadness. From the guilt you held for even having a single moment of happiness when Faith no longer could.

He couldn’t help loving you, the way you spoke even in your sadness was appealing to him. You were a strong person although it was a task for him trying to get you to reveal how you truly felt.

It started to upset him, when you were upset. He found his mood lifted and fell depending on how you felt. On how you spoke about yourself. He was in love with you. All in. He was a fool for love. Or, more, a fool for you.

He so wanted you to see what he did. How he adored you so. That you were truly a gift to the world. That you were the reason he got up in the evening. On the promise of being close to you.

You kept things bottled up, held tightly to your chest. You didn’t tell him but you felt guilty, what with Faith still breathing and being involved with Spike. The doctors had told you multiple times that it would take a miracle for her to recover. That you should move on. But it was too hard letting go.

That was how you ended up here, psyching yourself up to go and join her by her bedside. Visiting hours started in less than an hour and you were still trying to convince yourself that there was still hope.

Her face, it looked almost peaceful lying in that bed but it brought you anything but peace. You knew she would rather be where the action was. Fighting and fucking in that way that only she could marry together perfectly. You could hold her hand in yours but it was often cold to match the room. You could bend it to curl around you but it never stayed.

You just wanted her to reach for you again, clasp her hand to yours and tell you that it would be okay. That she would make it out. That she could make it out of anything. Her confidence, you had loved it. She was so sure of herself and she had the same confidence in you. she was devoted to you in every way. Had near fought the Mayor over some of the comments he had made about you.

Spike spotted you immediately where you were sat hunched over your seat in the café. He stalked straight towards you, not moving out of anyone’s way. He sat down in front of you, characteristically throwing himself down and smirking as if this had all been planned. He took the mug from you and downed the remainder of the lukewarm liquid, grimacing at your choice of beverage. He slammed the mug back down, almost cracking it before sniffing and looking back at you expectantly.

“Did you follow me? You know you really shouldn’t do that to people-” You warned. You had this conversation more than once and he had mostly learned from what you had said. Or so you hoped anyway.

“I know. I wasn’t, I swear it” He said and when you raised an eyebrow he continued, “Stocking up wasn’t I?”

He pulled one half of his duster as if trying to sell you something but it revealed several concealed pockets that held blood bags. Human blood. He had come to get lunch.

This type of thing was what you had come to expect of Spike and so you just nodded and accepted it. In fact, you had begun to warm up his blood for him in the mornings when you both woke up together. He liked that you didn’t look at him in disgust for surviving. That rather you understood. He smiled at you before patting himself down again.

He took a cigarette from his pack and started to light up, forgetting where he was. You reached and took the object from him, dropping it in your cup. The dregs put the lit end out with a disappointing sizzle.

When you had leaned in, his eyes had widened. Your proximity was something he wanted more of. Those soft, familiar gestures of comfort. They meant a lot to him. Although, it wouldn’t stop him testing just how familiar he could be back to you.

“Question is, why are you? Doc said she’s gone, pet. No point making it harder on yourself” he said slowly, knowing not to push too hard. Last time he had started to press you to talk about it more you hadn’t spoken to him for a week.

You knew what the doctor had said. But you couldn’t stop coming. You couldn’t let her go. You couldn’t leave her behind.

“I love her” You said sadly. The words stung Spike and he lowered his gaze to the table between you. His jaw tensed and he tried to blink the water from his eyes before you saw it. Your love meant too much to him. Sometimes, you wished it wasn’t true. You wish you could move on and just forget. But she had meant everything to you, even after she had joined up with the Mayor you stuck by her. You had fallen so deeply.

The way she always held you close. Kissed you until you were breathless as soon as she saw you. That smile that could light up a room. She would have died rather than see you hurt in any way. Faith loved you, you had never doubted it.

But as soon as you thought this your mind moved to Spike. In the same way, he clung to you protectively. Gave you all of his time. Would rather give up anything so that you could have even a second of happiness.

“But… I think… I think I feel the same about you” Your sentence exploded from your mouth before you could brace yourself. You hadn’t even thought them properly before you expressed these words. But, you knew that you meant it. That you adored every part of him.

You were scared though, that he may suffer the same fate as the only other person you loved. You didn’t need to explain this though, he understood.

He had gasped. Audibly. Spike was looking at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. He reached for you from across the table, his features crudely carved out of the fluorescent lighting. Yet he still managed to keep this soft expression on his face. The one that was only yours.

“I have loved you since the first I saw you. Couldn’t even begin to deny these feelings inside. I need you, near crave you at times. Nothing compares to you, pet. Nothing even comes close”

He took your hand in his from over the table as he began to offer his feelings to you. This love that he had harboured in secret for too long. This soft adoration that he could now allow to flow freely. He assured you that he was yours, in any way you wanted him.

His hand caressed yours in such a way that you could no longer imagine him letting go. This intimacy meant more than you could even begin to describe. He slowly rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand as he spoke so earnestly.

You could have cried. Could have thrown the table aside and urgently pressed your lips against his. Instead, you clasped your hand tighter, wove your fingers firmly between his. You needed this. You needed him.

He squeezed your hand tighter as you spoke, trying to shuffle your thoughts into some type of cohesion. You wanted to explain. Wanted to match the beautiful way he expressed his own emotions to you. But something had stopped you. Or, someone. It felt as if someone had a hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing your throat until no words could form.

Your eyesight began to blur. The corners of your vision turning to static. But there was something, a flicker that caught your attention.

Her. Standing there in someone else’s clothes. Paler than you remembered but still completely her.

“Faith you’re…”

“Right on time” She nodded, smiling at you. Although her eye was almost twitching as she looked at the way you were both intimately sprawled across the table. Leaning in towards each other closer as the other spoke.

You couldn’t help but get up, dropping Spike’s hand in your shock. Your vision completely enraptured by her. You were so excited you didn’t hear a British accent muttering ‘Bloody brilliant’ as he contemplated that his relationship with you had just completely changed. Again.

To have everything he had ever wanted from you now potentially ripped away in almost the same breath hurt. Deeply. And so he blamed Faith for it.

You launched yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her so enthusiastically. She hissed a little and you moved but you were unable to part from her. You pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before laughing at how amazing it was to have her standing before you after all of this time.

They scowled at each other while your back was turned, hugging Faith more gently again. They knew exactly how the other felt about you. Because they themselves felt it.

You opened your mouth to say something but then it dawned on you. You remembered what you had just said to Spike. Suddenly this reunion was bittersweet. You loved her completely and couldn’t leave her side now. But life had moved on and you had found yourself a spirit that spoke to yours. You also loved him.

You looked between them both and time stopped. There was no choice here. You knew who your heart belonged to. It was split in two, in equal parts. Your heart - it was theirs.

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Come Undone

Author’s note: Well, I know I said it was coming this weekend but I decided to break it apart and post this part first. It’s another roller coaster but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Thank you to everyone who messages me and supports me and loves this story. I am so thankful for you. Enjoy my babies :) Thanks for the photo @prodmina, (I’ll use the other thing later in the story too) you are a doll and as always thank you @ewolfwitchwisegirl for this beautiful header!

p.s Crazy fun fact I had no idea what Seojun’s mom’s name was so I put random initials thinking I’ll check later and fix it. Only to guess completely right! I am so proud of myself LOL

She stands dumbfounded in his arms, unable to process the words that have left his lips. She couldn’t have heard him right, why on Earth would someone like him who had girls fighting to be his girlfriend want anything to do with her? Did he pity her that much? Was this the premise of a high school drama and he’d taken some sort of bet to befriend her? Somehow all of those options seem more feasible than him having genuine feelings for her.

But it’s her first real confession, she’s always seen others receive this and never experienced it herself. There had been some grandiose ones at school but she secretly tells herself she prefers this, just them two without an audience. it feels more intimate and authentic, as if he couldn’t wait another minute and his feelings for her overwhelmed him. Her heart is beating rapidly despite her deep calming breaths, he’s effectively turned her world upside down with just those small three words.

I like you.

She can’t control the way her heart flutters, but surely it would react that way to anyone? It wasn’t connected to the confession-er, she was merely affected because someone liked her that was human nature. It didn’t matter that it was Han Seojun, they were nothing to each other. Pity was surely clouding his emotions and she wanted no part in being there when he realized that and abandoned her, it was best not to get attached at all she argues with her traitorous heart.

Her phone brings her back to reality, suddenly she remembers where she’s meant to be right now and her father’s enraged face appears in her mind. He’d told her not to embarrass him, which meant she had to go on this date and paint on a happy face and pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. All for a man who treated her no better than scum under his shoes.

Pulling out the phone, Obligation flashes on her phone screen that’s all he was after all she’d already forgotten his name, it was of no importance to her. She doesn’t know if she should answer, still confused about her next step and while she’s ruminating a hand suddenly fills her vision and snatches the object from her hand. Twisting out of his hug she stares in shock before trying to grab the phone back, “Are you insane? Give it back!” But he steps back, putting more space between them as he holds the stolen object just out of her reach tauntingly using his looming height.

“Is this your date? Obligation.” He reads the name from the phone, venom in his voice and she’s taken back by his tone he’s hardly ever serious or cold with her. She’s seeing many different facets to his personality today.

“Han Seojun, give it back!” She demands, stomping her feet before lunging for the item, putting a hand on his shoulder for more leverage. But she miscalculates and her face smashes into his jaw making him cry out in pain and sending her flying forward her body crashing into his painfully, he steadies her with an arm around her waist bringing her dangerously close to him. Their eyes connect as if they are magnetized, just like that day in front of her house.

“Is this your answer, princess? You sure know how to hurt a guy.” She peers at him in bewilderment before searching his face, there’s not even a fraction of a smile on his lip and he refuses to meet her eyes. Gazing off into the distance although he’s speaking to her. He seems…hurt and he’s not doing a good job of hiding it at all, it’s written all over his face and she wonders vaguely what kind of world he must live in to be able to so freely reveal his feelings? She yearns to grab his lips and literally turn his frown upside down, smiles look much better on him.

“You mean it.” She whispers in awe, the ice around her heart defrosting as his palpable pain washes over her. He’d thought she was rejecting him for her “date”. He clearly wasn’t a great listener, she had no feelings for that guy it was just another part of her world that she had no control over. For some reason she wants to explain that to him, make him understand that in another universe maybe things would be different, maybe she would be allowed to want and she would explore this but this isn’t her reality, things are not that simple. Love isn’t an option for her.

“I told you. About my world, I can’t–”

“That’s just an excuse. You have a choice Sujin.” He states his word are cold as ice, he looks livid as he puffs out an exasperated breath of air and frantically runs his fingers through his hair.

Shoving him hard she sneers up at him before shouting in his face, “What choice do I have? I have control over nothing in my life, my first date is being stolen from me. I’ll probably have to kiss him too so that will also be stolen! I can’t control anything I didn’t even choose this outfit. None of this is my choice.” It’s not his fault, and he’s the one person that’s been there for her and that makes her even angrier, why isn’t she allowed to have this? Go on a date with a boy who might care for her, why is life cruel enough that this is being presented but she can’t grab onto it with both hands?

For the first time ever, he doesn’t deflate or back off like he usually does when they get to these moments, he’s usually her safety pin pulling her back from the edge of detonation so she’s not ready for him to scream back at her, “Then choose me! Fuck all of that, fuck your father.” He lifts up her phone which has started to ring again, “Fuck this guy! Just choose me, let me be your first.” They both stand still, staring at each other the jingle of her iPhone not enough to cut the thick coiling tension and then she watches in gaped surprise as he angrily slides her phone open. “Stop fucking calling, she’s not coming. She’s with her boyfriend.” Then he slides the phone close, finally handing it back to her looking at her with those hard glistening eyes. She looks at the phone and then back at him, eyes wide as the moon.

Stupefied and flustered she stutters out, “You’re n-n-ot my boyfriend. What are you doing?”

“Let me take you on a date. Pick me Sujin.”

They stand at an impasse, neither talking following the outburst but their eyes are locked having a conversation all their own. He looks impossibly young standing there asking to be chosen, he was always so shameless with his emotions uncaring about letting them ooze out of his pores. Although he was no longer saying anything, his face was screaming at her, his eyes were kneeling before her on bended knees.

When the phone vibrates again, she's so entranced that she doesn't make any move to check it so when the cab driver calls out her name from his window, she jumps in surprise at the sudden interruption.

"Ms. Kang Sujin?" He eyes them both, glancing back and forth as if he too can feel the tension laying heavy in the air between them.

After a moments pause she finally relays the message to her mouth to speak, answering quietly, "Yes. That's me."

Seojun watches her unwaveringly, never breaking eye contact to look at the driver. He's standing unnaturally straight, all of his usual swagger drained from his body as he watches to see what she'll do.

Turning to the cab, she reaches out a hand to grab the handle, the cool metal smooth in her grasp.

Pulling it open she turns to look at him one last time before making her decision, with an expressionless face she ultimately slides into the passenger seat. The leather squeaking over her naked thighs, primly she places the little white bag in her lap. When she finally focuses back on Seojun, the hurt on his face is almost too much to witness instead of hiding it like she would he lays it all at her feet, lips twisted in a broken snarl and his fingers clenched tightly by his side.

She waits for some kind of retaliation, for the switch to flick and for him to erupt on her for refusing to listen to his plea. Almost salivates at the idea of him showing her that this was all an act, he didn't truly like her once she rejected him he would lash out and whatever this was would be obliterated. No one was that good, she didn't deserve goodness.

"Text me later then. Let me know when you get home."

His voice is devoid of any anger, calm and smooth but tinged with resignation, gracefully accepting defeat and still concerned about her well-being. Surely he was created in a test tube, there's no reasonable explanation for the way he never reacts the way she expects- the way anyone would in his situation. A sad little smile spreads across his lips and it's the most despairing thing she's ever seen, she never wants to see it again not on his face. As he moves to slam the door shut, somehow still a gentleman even in this predicament, spontaneously she grabs his hand.

"Get in."

She can't believe the words that have left her mouth but she's also buzzing, why isn't she allowed to be selfish and take something that she wants? She can't promise him forever still, her life hasn't changed that drastically but she can give him today, give herself a real first date with someone who doesn't make her skin crawl.

He looks rightfully confused, she knows that she's not making any sense. Playing hot and cold. But her heart is telling her that she's allowed this, she has a choice and today she's joining herself. She's never done that before it's terrifying but maybe it'll be easier with him, maybe he can teach her how.

"Fuck that guy. Take me on a date." She whispers astonished repeating his own words , staring up at him for his response and the answering smile that spreads across his handsome face is enough to power a whole city. She almost beams back his happiness is that contagious.

He squeezes her gloved hand, sliding into the cab beside her their legs pressed closely together. She looks away, moving over discretely but he simply follows her boyish grin on his face, no one has ever smiled like that because of her; it's honestly mesmerizing.

Sounding thoroughly amused, the driver confirms her destination and she realizes she hadn't thought that far and she has no idea where they should go. Placing a burning hot hand on her knee, Seojun easily gets her attention.

"Do you trust me princess?"

She stares back at him, blooding pumping from his soulful tone and his skin on her skin. She's making a horrible mistake, she's sure of but she'll have regrets tomorrow. Boldly returning his look she nods mutely, forced to look away when he laughs so beautifully it makes her stomach drop. Today she does.

"No we have a new destination."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She looks quizzically at said destination.

"A mall?" She scrunches her nose climbing out of the cab, brushing past him as he holds the door open for her. She tries to ignore the flapping in her stomach, his constant chivalry is a welcome surprise.

"Already doubting me princess? This isn't our date, I wouldn't bring you to a mall on our first date." He sounds affronted but in a teasing way and she wasn't prepared to hear him call this a date even though she'd said those same words herself minutes ago.

"Then why are we here?"

He opens the entrance door letting her go first, she's not sure she'll ever get used to this. He hasn't let her open one door since he chased her out of the coffee, using those long limbs every time to beat her to the door.

"You don't need to keep doing this?"

Now it's his turn to look quizzical, "Do what?"

They're walking side by side now, she notices that he's adjusted his steps to match hers. She hardly wears heels and walking in them is not her expertise, she'd only worn them because her father insisted claiming women should wear them on a date. It made them more appealing to men. She ha cringed in disgust at the comment.

"Open every door we encounter. I can open them too."

Suddenly he grabs her hand stopping her in the middle of the mall, she tries to tug her hand away no longer covered by her gloves but he tightens his hold preventing her from pulling away.

"You told me to take you on date. This is me on a date, I want to open all your doors. You picked me so just enjoy it, this is all for you." She stares at his small content smile embarrassed by his undivided focus on her. Her cheeks burning up without her permission she races away before he can see.

"Let's go."

But he's too quick, running ahead of her and walking backwards eyes scanning her face.

"Are you blushing? Was I too charming princess, did you heart flutter?" He teases her reaching out a hand to squeeze her cheeks, she smacks his hand away glaring at him.

"Shut up before I leave."

He winks in response nonplussed by her empty threat walking purposely before stopping in front of a retail store. Looking through the window she can see trendy clothes, definitely Seojun's style.

She gazes over at him unimpressed, "Did you bring me here to watch you shop?" He looks at her equally unimpressed before raising an eyebrow, "Come on princess. You have a lot to learn about me."

Still with this damn nickname and now because she hadn't reprimanded him enough it seemed it was here to stay.

Seojun walks over to a rack immediately, pulling out shirts and putting over her figure. Nodding his head before putting the article back and moving onto another rack.

I didn't even choose the outfit. Her own voice rings in her mind remembering their heated discussion on the sidewalk and suddenly it all makes sense they're here to get an outfit for her, something chosen by her.

"Do you like this?" He holds up another shirt, light blue with a cute picture of a puppy on the front. She sneers at him pushing the offending object away.

"I'm not five, why would I wear that?"

He shrugs at her putting the shirt in front of himself now, "What? I think it's cute. Wouldn't I look cute in it?"

He does, the idiot. His lips pushed out into a perfect pout matching the puppy on the shirt but before she can lie through her teeth and tell him no, another high pitched voice interrupts them.

"Oh! You are so handsome, I'm sure anything would look just delicious on you."

When she turns around she's greeted by a chipper store clerk, she doesn't look much older than them and she only has eyes for Seojun, not once looking in her direction despite being right next to her.

"Is it your first time here? Do you need help? What are you looking for?" The girl rapid fires out questions and she doesn't like the way her chest tightens watching the girl blatantly flirt with him. Clutching her fists she stalks off to a random rack not wanting to look bothered by the invasion, he's allowed to talk to whoever he wants. He's not hers nor she his.

She idly lifts a white T-shirt, it's plain besides a small upside triangle design on the pocket. She knows the brand, they're part of a nonprofit company that gives all their proceeds to children homes. She searches for her size resisting the urge to see what Seojun's doing. He startles her when he peeks over her shoulder his chin almost landing on her collar.

"You like that?" He croons into her ears appearing out of nowhere.

She twists around hoping to put some space between them only to lose her breath at the sight of him, he's removed his bomber jacket standing in a black T-shirt but that's not what catches her attention, it's the dark winding dragon weaving intricately down his bicep. The swirls of black and dark blues of the creature's body are captivating as gray smoke curls out of the dragon's mouth. "It's new." He flexes the arm, bringing it closer to her until it's close enough for her to touch. So she does. Trailing a finger from the dragon's head almost on his wrist and meandering up his arm, stopping at the edge of his shirt sleeve where the tattoo disappears. Realizing what exactly she's doing she snatches her hand away, putting the wayward appendage behind her back.

His eyes are dark when she glances up but neither of them fill the silence, she shuffles going back to the rack and absently pulling out a pair of black jeans.

"I've always liked dragons. They're larger than life and nobody messes with them."

It sounds like he's describing himself, or the persona she's seen at school. The school heart-throb with girls fawning over him and boys wanting to be him, his motorcycle, piercings and now tattoos only adding to his allure. On paper he was the quintessential bad boy but she knew now that wasn't entirely accurate. She'd seen how protective he was of his sister and how doting he was of family, he loved his family and it was clear that the feeling was mutual. And then there was the way he treated her, he was something more than what everyone saw.

Lamely she only replies, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

Thrusting his other hand into her face he shows his wrist, small letters are branded there. Initials.

GW. MH

"GW....Go-woon."

He nods agreeing, "Yeah these were my first tattoos, my mom and sister’s initials. After my father passed away I had to step up, I wanted a reminder that I had people worth living for."

She freezes at his admission, unprepared for the personal and revealing turn this conversation has taken. His face is blank but those eyes, they never lie they are brimming with emotions. She has to fight the urge to hug him, instead patting him on the shoulder.

"Your family loves you. They're lucky to have you."

They aren't the only ones but that's too much for today. She has already reached her mistake quota.

He leans into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder for only a moment before straightening up and smiling.

"Didn't know you were capable of giving compliments princess, I feel special."

She lets him break the tension knowing that he probably didn't intend to open up that much, his cheeks are dusted in red confirming her inkling.

"Don't get used to it. You hardly do anything worth complimenting."

They slip back into their usual banter, as she searches for a dressing room thankfully there's no line and she goes in. After changing she looks at herself in the full sized mirror, she tucks the edge of the shirt into her pants. It's simple but it's more her, the real her. Her father insists that they wear the most expensive clothes and she owns many different brands but most days she'd rather just dress like this and not feel like she's on an imaginary runway. Pulling the door open, she almost collides with Seojun not prepared from him to be waiting right outside her door.

He changed too, and she blinks at him.

"We're not wearing matching outfits. Go change." She states blankly.

He chuckles softly, straightening the already perfect shirt on his body. He added a silver chain and black boots to his outfit and she groans internally because she'd also planned on pairing her outfit with black boots.

"It just happened. I guess our style is compatible." He winks at her going to model in front of the mirror.

"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be in the men's dressing room?" She hisses at him as he preens in the glass.

She gets her answer in the form of a familiar high pitched tone.

"Oh it looks great on you! You have to get it, it really shows off your arms." Then she watches in dismay as the other girl actually reaches out to touch his arm, Seojun smoothly moves out of her reach but the girl is adamant and places a hand on his back instead standing next to him by the mirror.

Her eyes squint in annoyance, he might not be hers but the outfits should have made it obvious that they were something to each other but the girl was choosing to turn a blind eye. She stops holding back. This is all leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Interjecting easily, she moves the proprietary hand on Seojun's back with a flick of her wrist.

"Do you accost all your customers like this?" She deadpans at the other girl, watching her eyes widen before her face morphs into a tense smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"I didn't notice you there. Is she your sister?" The store clerk defers back to Seojun as if dismissing her completely and in the corner of her eyes she sees the hard glint of his jawline, he doesn't look pleased. That gives her the courage for her next action.

"Do you usually buy matching outfits with your siblings? We're on a date. We don't need your help as you can see, we already have what we need." She motions between them and their matching outfits, watching the other girl who looks ready to scream before turning to Seojun with beguiling eyes, as if begging him to deny her words.

He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing their sides tightly together. The other girl looks at them in disbelief before he answers in his deep voice, "You heard my girl. I'm off limits."

She tells her heart to calm down, this is all a show after all. It was about the principle of the matter, she didn't appreciate this complete stranger ruining her first date. It wasn't about Seojun in particular. He wasn't hers, she knew that. They both watch as she stomps off, angry blush on her face and retort under her breath. Sujin's tempted to follow her and hear what she's saying under her breath, but she collects herself. Turning to Seojun she complains, "This is how you act on a date? Flirting with other girls?"

He gasps at the accusation pressing a hand against his heart, "I never flirted. I told her I wasn't interested when you left the first time. I didn't think you'd be the jealous type though. "

She opens her mouth to deny that claim despite all the evidence proving otherwise but he beats her to it.

"I like it." He ruffles her hair before walking off. She stands there in gaped mouth surprise, how dare he? After picking her jaw up off the ground, they finally join the line, clothes folded in their arms. Deciding to change back into them after ringing up the order.

They get ringed up by another store clerk, when she tries to pull out her credit card Seojun looks at her like she's personally offended him.

"I'm paying. Don't bother arguing, this is me on a date."

"You two are so cute! I love your matching outfits." The cashier coos at them missing the cold glare from her co-worker in the distance.

As they leave the store she waves snidely at the other girl, even allowing Seojun to rest his arm on her shoulder to put on a even more convincing show.

She knows she's being petty but the other girl started it, she's just finishing it. Maybe next time she wouldn't flirt with boys who were with other girls, she was teaching her a life long lesson.

"You're something else princess."

As soon as they get outside, the store clerk no longer in sight she pushes his hand away. They need to redraw the line in the sand he's getting too comfortable touching her and calling her that nickname. And she might be getting too comfortable hearing it.

"That's enough. Stop calling me that." She expects him to be annoyed or hurt by her switch in attitude but instead he's nodding his head fondly with his hands held high, "I make no promises about that P. But I think it's time to get this date started."

She groans staring at this back, she'd completely forgotten to make him change and now everyone was staring at them in their matching outfits. That stupid flirtatious clerk had derailed her thinking.

"Hey! Seojun, let's go to another store. You need to change!" she yells chasing after him. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He groans as the sensor sounds out, loud noise blaring in his ears signaling that she's hit him again, he only catches a glimpse of her before she's barrel rolling behind a pillar and out of sight.

She'd totally played him, adamant that she'd never done laser tag before. He should have known when she came after changing looking far too comfortable with the gigantic imitation gun in her hand, her hair scooped into a high ponytail. It was admittedly distracting, bringing attention to the long regal line of her neck. He noticed how the instructor paused mid sentence upon seeing her, his eyes lingering a little too long for his liking. Easily he moved between them, dwarfing her with his larger frame staring the guy down until he snapped back looking away while rubbing his neck.

She hadn't noticed the interaction too busy aiming her weapon and asking questions, he had second guessed bringing her here wondering if this was too childish. It was there first date after all and he wanted there to be others, was this thoughtful enough? But watching her roll and dive for cover he knew that he'd made the right choice, even if she was currently destroying his ego.

He had immediately fell for her tricks, running to her aid when she tripped and fell whimpering in pain on the ground. His heart had stopped as he raced over to her, her name on his tongue but before he could utter the word she rolled over, smirk on her face as she aimed perfectly in the middle of his chest, gaining the most point value. She stuck her tongue out before hopping up and disappearing into the darkness. He had stood there shocked clutching at his chest.

"Do you really have time to day dream? I don't know if you've noticed but you're losing. Badly."

She calls from somewhere and he shakes his head at her mocking comment, the trash talking has been steadily increasing with each shot she landed. He should have expected this, for her to be competitive. He's seen it at school sometimes that grimace on her face when she saw that she was second again, glaring at Suho before shoving the ranking away.

He wishes he could say that he's been taking it easy on her but he hasn't, he's been trying his damn hardest to no avail, every time he spots her she dodges him easily, before reappearing behind her and making his sensors go off. He's not the most competitive person but losing this badly is simply embarrassing, a small part of him wants to impress her.

Okay, a large part. Shoot him.

He groans when just that happens, she shoots him and that's it. Game over.

Winner flashes across the front of her camo vest. But when a radiant smile spreads across her flushed face he wonders who is truly the winner.

Cocking an eyebrow he whistles, "You sure you've never done this before?"

She tries to hide a smile but fails epically before admitting the truth. "I might have done this before, once or twice."

"You're a game shark. Taking advantage of poor innocent souls. Is this anyway to treat your date?" He feigns hurt pouting dramatically, bottom lip wobbling. She rolls her eyes at him, ponytail swishing as she skips away before calling over a shoulder, "Even if I told you, you would have still lost. I'm just better than you. Did you even hit me once?" She taunts, looking far too attractive with that snotty look on her face. He must be going crazy.

"You're such a brat. " He concedes enjoying this version of Sujin too much to take any real offense to her insults.

"Rematch?" She purses her lips before aiming right at his head, with one eye closed.

"You're on." She accepts his challenge before running over the counter to purchase more time, he trails after her knowing that he's lost much more than this laser tag game. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She kicks his ass a second time, he does manage to land one shot on her but it only makes her even more competitive and it's a flurry after that, his censor ringing off every few seconds. It's a short rematch, her notices how other guys seem mesmerized by the beautiful girl with the near precise aim. She starts attracting quite the audience and he decides they've been here long enough. This isn't the end of their date after all, he doesn't want to waste this time.

"Alright, you win ninja remind me never to do this with you ever again."

She stands triumphantly before wondering off to change.

The ponytail is down when she comes back out, thick dark curtain over her shoulder. His fingers itch with desire but he controls the urge, he's seen what she's capable of. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ She shakes her head as he pulls out her chair but he sends her a charming smile, he wasn't joking when he told her this was how he acted on dates. Maybe it's because he only has his mother and sister but he has always respected woman immensely, doing these little acts makes him feel like he's cherishing them. His mother has never opened a door in his presence so this feels natural to him.

They're in a quaint diner with dim lighting and cushy oversized chairs, she looks around curiously taking in the minimalist artwork and splashes of color on the wall.

"Do you bring all your dates here?" She asks all nonchalance as she thumbs through the menu, surprising him when she immediately goes to the dessert section eying the different cakes. He sits in disbelief that she has a sweet tooth, she's just full of surprises today.

"Sujin." He puts iron into his voice grabbing her attention, when their eyes are connected he speaks again, "I think you know me better than that. Don't make this cheap."

It's obvious what she's been trying to do since they left the laser tag center, put as much distance between them as possible. Every once in a while her phone vibrates and he can see her tense up before declining the call. The reality of what she's done has set in and now she's putting back up her fortress. Brushing off his compliments and implying that everything he's been doing is all part of some first date playbook, he's trying not to be offended but it's hard to wrangle in his emotions.

It always is with her.

They stare at each other until a server comes to take their order. She orders a chocolate mousse cake that sounds like something his sister would love- cloyingly sweet and diabetes inducing- and he orders another slice to bring home to her, maybe he can use that to bribe her and hear more about how Sujin saved her. For himself he gets an egg sandwich with avocado and bacon, starving now after his long day. He'd gone to work straight from school and fatigue is catching up with him.

"I'll be right back." He announced abruptly, the chair screeching as he excuses himself from the table.

He splashes cold water on his face, waking himself up and clearing his mind. What will they do after this? It's clear that she's dreading what comes next. Nothing has changed, she still has to go home and he knows they'll be repercussions to today. He can't let her face that alone but getting her to agree to him being there is going to be near impossible. The trust between them is still thin, like the first layer of ice that covers a frozen lake and he's terrified to rupture it.

What is he supposed to do?

Trepidation grips his mind as he makes his way back to their table and as he draws closer, he notices that she's completely distracted, arms balanced on the armrests as she stares out the glass, lost in thought and a million miles away. She looks beautiful, if he was a poet he would write sonnets about it. He has no idea how this day is going to end, feels dread swirling in his stomach as well and he pulls out his phone angling it as he stands in front of her. Wanting to capture this moment, tattoo this image in his mind.

Click!

The loud notification of his camera breaks her reprieve and anxiously he starts to staff the traitorous device in his pocket but not before she spots him.

"Did you just take a picture of me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He answers innocently, sitting down and taking a huge bite of the sandwich that was delivered while he was away. Her chocolate cake is still perfect, thick and sweet the aroma wafting across the table. She was waiting for him.

Grabbing her fork, he stabs a huge piece of the decadent treat lifting it to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" She retreats attempting to steal her fork back but he weaves out of reach, laughing at her grumpy face.

"Open up princess." He tries to feed her again but she turns her head away, he has to catch himself before he smashes it on her cheek. He gets the feeling that wouldn't have ended well if he didn't have fast reflexes.

"Seojun."

"Princess."

"Don't call me that."

"Open up."

"No!"

She's fully glaring at him now, arms folded across her chest and he stares back impishly before formulating a plan.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

She looks surprised at his quick acceptance of defeat before he starts to bring the cake to his own mouth, exaggeratedly opening his mouth wide to consume the delicacy and instantly she lunges across the table looking ferocious, her mouth open wide in anger and finding an opening he twists the fork and pops the cake into her mouth.

Her face is thunderous, anger filling every line before the flavor explodes on her tongue and she freezes mid lunge looking like a chipmunk with her full cheeks and wide eyes. She slowly chews savoring the bite before finally swallowing. He waits for her reaction with bated breath.

"How was it?" He laughs at her dark stare, passing the fork back over the table. Almost too eagerly she grabs the utensil, shoveling more of the sweet treat into her mouth. Silently answering his inquiry, in minutes her plate is empty only a smear of icing remaining.

He chews his own sandwich deliberately.

When his phone starts to vibrate he doesn't detect it at first, too lost in the puzzle that is Kang Sujin; laser tag extraordinaire with a sweet tooth the size of Seoul. A gentle smile washes over his face when he sees the caller ID and he makes a rash decision that may or may not get him in more trouble. Declining the call, he goes into the contact and chooses FaceTime instead waiting patiently until a face pops up.

"Seojun, where are you? Your sister said she saw you at work earlier and you were on your way home. Did something happen?" His mother’s concerned voice rings out from the speakers.

Glancing subtly over at Sujin he sees her freeze before realization lights up her eyes and he knows she's going to bolt. Not giving her a chance to flee, he reaches around the table grabbing her chair and tugging her over until they're side by side. Both of their faces sit in the small square on his phone and his mother gasps at the sudden addition to your conversation.

"Oh! Who's this? Are you out with friends?"

"Mom, this is Kang Sujin. The girl I like." He states proudly, smiling brightly at the screen.

His mom's eyes become comically wide, glancing back and forth between the two of them before she waves back excitedly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you my dear. I hope my son is treating you well." His mother has that look on her face that she always gets before she scolds him, clearly seeing the other girl’s discomfort. Sujin is unmoving next to him, a pregnant moment passes before she blinks twice and realizes that she's being spoken to.

"He is. It's nice to meet you too." Her voice is tinier than he's ever heard it.

Worlds different from the person who looked ready to stab him over chocolate cake.

His mother's eye immediately soften at her quiet voice.

"Well I won't keep you. Make sure she gets home safely and don't come back too late. It's supposed to rain later." She warns them both waving softly before ending the call and the screen goes dark.

"What are you doing?"

She's furious. He can hear in the cadence of her voice, she's vibrating with it.

"Why would you do that?”

"Why are you so angry?" He rises to her bait, knowing this was the inevitable end to their near perfect date.

"You had no right to do that. I don't need to be anymore involved with your life."

A slap across his face. That stings and he can't control his reaction, recoiling like he's been hit.

"What was supposed to happen after today? Why did you agree to this? Was this supposed to get you out of my system?" He barks at her. He’s so annoyed this is happening in the middle of a diner, like those couples you always see and judge praying that they'll take this somewhere else.

"It was supposed to get you out of my system!" She screams back.

There's the truth, the ugly truth. It's not different from anything she's ever said to him but hearing that now after confessing to her feels like salt being poured into his wounds. Or acid behind injected into his veins.

"What about my feelings? I like you."

Harshly she stands snatching her purse and throwing down a few bills on the table, with a tone filled with venom she looks him dead in the eyes, unwavering. "Don't." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ It wasn't supposed to end like this, his heartbroken face is frozen in her mind.

Don't.

She was selfish, a horrible selfish bitch and she used his feelings for her. That's what he would think and that was best, he needed to face the reality that one stolen moment didn't make her life brand new, she was still the broken mess he'd stumbled upon in the rain. No matter how vehemently he tried there was no mending her she was beyond repair.

But it had felt nice. Being with him, feeling like a normal teenager on a date. For a minute she'd forgotten her reality, when he called his mother it was the wake up call she needed. She wasn't the girl you brought home to your mother, at least not for him. The woman looked so much like him and she could feel their affection for each other through the phones, her own mother has never looked at her with such devotion. Jealousy crawls at her insides, she'd forgotten she was a monster until she saw them. She couldn't drag another person into her storm.

He doesn't call. She thought he would, expected him to chase after her and demand more. She stares through the window of the bus watching the raindrops slide down the glass, his mother had been right. Taking out her phone she types a message.

I'm sorry.

Staring at it, there's so much she's sorry for but mostly crashing into his life. If only he'd ignored her like everyone else this could have all been avoided, he would have been spared. She leans back in her seat with a deep sigh, message unsent.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She's drenched standing outside her house, pacing back and forth pulling at the skin between her fingers. Her father has to know by now, but he hasn't contacted her once. It feels like the calm before the storm despite the torrential pour of rain around her.

The click of the front door opening makes a shiver race down her spine. Her father stands ominously in the doorway, face set in stone.

"Where have you been!" He screams, booming voice cutting through the fall of rain.

She instinctively takes a step back but he grabs her by her soaking shirt collar and slams her into the brick wall, she cries out as pain surges through her body. "You little bitch, I told you not to embarrass me." He hisses into her face, spit landing on her chin.

"Honey, stop! You're outside somebody will see!" She hears her mother crying from the doorway and she almost laughs at the reasoning, it's okay to beat her to pulp as long as it's inside where no one will see. It was all about upholding appearances.

"You shut your mouth! This wouldn't have happened if you raised her better!" He turns to sneer at her mother and she capitalizes on his momentary distraction, twisting out of his hold and running down the sidewalk. For a moment she thinks she's free but then a sharp pain shoots through her head and she's painfully yanked backwards by her hair. She shouts at the burst of intense pain, hot tears streaming down her face.

He drags her by her hair before shoving her into the wall, her skull bounces off the hard surface and white starburst explode behind her eyelids.

Squinting through her tears and the water soaking her face she sees her father with his fist drawn back. She waits for the blow, clenching her eyes shut. If she's lucky this will be it, it'll all be over.

But the moment drags on and the punch never lands and then she suddenly hears a voice she never expected.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

She's barely able to lift her hand and watch as her father is shoved powerfully, falling to his knees from the impact. Rubbing at her tender scalp she peers up at her savior only to see the furious face of Seojun, his hair is matted to his scalp and he looks murderous.

"You came." That's all she can get out before her world goes pitch dark, he was here. He was truly here even after everything she said. Why? Why was he always there?

Her last cognitive image is him running frantically towards her with his arms outreached, his lips are moving and she wishes she knew what he was saying but there's no sound and then there's nothing.

Darkness.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #junjin #han seojun #kang sujin #the couple that should have been #early posting #I come bearing gifts

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thewebcomicsreview · 3 years

Photo

Homestuck 2 has updated! Christmas is ruined!

Previously, on Homestuck 2: Literally nothing happened, and a non-trivial portion of the patreon supporters gave up and quit. Can this update pull a Christmas miracle and right the sinking ship of Homestuck 2? Probably not, but let’s find out!

youtube

We’re back in Candyland, having completely skipped over Karkat and John talking about Dave’s apparent death, because this comic is only interested in long conversations when they’re boring and not about anything at all. That’s alright, I got the gist of it.

When Karkat is finally gone, John still doesn’t move. It isn’t as though he has nowhere else to go, since there are quite a few places he might attempt to make himself useful, for better or for worse.

So, it appears to be morning now, meaning that John’s son has been missing in a war zone for almost 24 hours and I guess John literally forgot Harry existed?

Prediction: This conversation is going to end in some variant of “Where is our son?” “Oh shit!”

ROXY: hey john can u do me a quick solid

ROXY: actly idk how quick itll be but its definitely solid

ROXY: harry anderson says i just missed u being here but could u skip back on over?

What.

So, I went back and checked, and apparently nowhere is it explicitly said that Harry Anderson was also looking for the Vriskas, so I guess he....stayed home? Which makes sense, I suppose, but maybe a “Stay here I’ll go look for them” would’ve helped. I wasn’t the only one who thought Harry was out looking for Vriska too.

ROXY: sup

ROXY: follow me

ROXY: well were just going to my room so i guess technically u know the way

JOHN: haha ok.

John follows, trying to shake the ominous feeling he got from what she’d just said. He’d been in and out of this house a lot in the past few days. Why should this be any different?

Is Roxy....horny? Is the solid she’s looking for John’s dick? I mean, that’d make her saying Harry wasn’t available kind of weird, but I think this framing is a fake-out.

...

What the fuck is that lamp, Jesus Christ it’s awful. Just a cat’s asshole, facing the door.

ROXY: r u kiddin me rn egbert

JOHN: i’m not? unless you were, in which case yeah lets say i was also kidding.

JOHN: oh my god, i’m sorry, i don’t know why this making me freak out.

ROXY: i remember our past boot knockin with fondness but that is a situation im not interested in revisiting

Oh hey, it was a fakeout. Good job, Homestuck 2. You successfully implied something just through the art. Art which, by the way, looks a lot better than the last chapter. There are backgrounds and everything. I wonder if Chapter 15 was rushed out due to Hiveswap and that’s why it was so weak?

He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced?

I’m not the biggest fan of the way the narration is going JOHN IS AFRAID OF SEX WITH ROXY LIKE HE’S A TEENAGE VIRGIN AGAIN (LIKE IN HS1!) AND IT DOESN’T REALLY MAKE SENSE PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IT’LL BE IMPORTANT LATER, but okay, noted.

ROXY: u said ur house is gone??

JOHN: yep.

JOHN: completely.

ROXY: jeez

Heh. I like Roxy, still.

JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison.

If this comic actually uses the phrase “home” and “stuck” in the same sentence I’m turning this blog around and we’ll go right back to Winnipeg.

ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push

ROXY: we both got sick muscles

ROXY: no other adjectives necessary

I feel unqualified to talk about how hard Roxy is pushing the June Egbert thing.

....Is that the fucking portal from Hiveswap under a tarp? Also hi Candy Callie, appearing in HS2 for the first time. One of the Calliope’s is nonbinary, I think, but I honestly can’t remember and I think it’s Meat Calliope?

JOHN: do i get to know what that big thing under the sheet is?

ROXY: hmmmmmm no

JOHN: oh ok.

JOHN: are you sure? i mean, it seems like a pretty prominent feature of the room.

JOHN: space.

JOHN: wherever we are.

ROXY: and a totally mysterious n COMPLETELY inconspicuous feature it will have to remain for now

ROXY: we r kinda in a hurry here fyi

ROXY: and by that i mean

ROXY: we are in precisely the amount of hurry that means im excused from having to a that specific q rn

JOHN: right, sorry.

JOHN: i will pay no attention to the object behind the curtain.

ROXY: u catch on fast egbert

Oh thing HS2 has not been great at is that it has a lot of plot mysteries that are supposed to keep us enticed but they don’t really get implanted into the audience’s head (Remember Vrissy mysteriously collapsing that one time? Probably not, she did it off screen and the boys kind of laughed it off). This one’s hard to miss.

JOHN: so... this is all downstairs?

JOHN: it seems like you had a lot of work done.

ROXY: well no not x actly

ROXY: were in the old meteor

It’s kind of weird how this meteor keeps popping up like this.

CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr.

This is an unexpected but not unwelcome direction for Callie to have gone.

CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are.

CALLIOPE: how much do yoU know aboUt black holes?

Oh, wow, we’re going right there, then. This does seem like a bit of a reaction to complaints HS2 wasn’t shmoovin’ enough, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.

CALLIOPE: no, i mean, what if oUr whole WORLD was inside a black hole.

JOHN: ok.

A’ight, that got a laugh out of me

JOHN: ugh, i fucking KNEW it!

JOHN: i'm so sorry.

JOHN: i'm so sorry that i put the earth inside a black hole everyone. ):

I like this conversation a lot.

ROXY: iirc at least part of y u got so weepy was the fact that u couldnt believe a version of earth existed where ppl got 2 watch more mcconaughey films than you

JOHN: listen.

JOHN: i simply don't think you all appreciated the gift you were given.

Quite a bit, in fact.

ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love

JOHN: aw.

Roxy and John have a good dynamic.

CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

JOHN: ...right.

John’s phone has very good coverage, since he was able to talk to Terezi in the epilogues, as we’re being subtly reminded of here with that ... before the “right”. I wonder if it still works after alt-Calliope left.

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval.

CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality.

CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u

Okay, so we are now being explicitly told that living in the black hole is fucking with the characters and is part of the reason they make such baffling decisions, like Rose not telling Kanaya about Yiffy, or naming her daughter “Yiffy” in the first place.

CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity.

ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point

CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan

CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more.

CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it.

CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself?

So, the plan is literally for Vriska to be such a Huge 8itch that the black hole itself gets sick of her and yeets Earth C out of its own event horizon to freedom.

This is actually a great plan.

And that’s Hamsteak. This definitely feels like a bit of a reaction to complaints about HS2, but hey, I dig it, I guess? Definite improvement over the last chapter.

#homestuck #homestuck 2 liveblog

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

Worship me- chapter.2

Worship me- Chapter 2

Warnings: abusive family, arranged marriage, talk of sexual abuse/ child marriage, talk about religion and other triggering themes. (lots of angst as well)

Word count: 2.6k

Last chapter recap: Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she typed in his number, writing him a text

‘Harry, it’s Y/n are you awake?”

His response was quick, maybe 30 seconds after she’d sent hers

‘yea, what’s up? You alright? Feeling better?’

A fresh wave of tears were building in her eyes, shaky fingers typing out her next message

‘no, Harry please help me. I’m scared please.’

The word that best describes Harrys current state is : panic.

As soon as he read her response his heart started to race, hands itching to clench into fists and his stomach felt like it’s been punched by Mike Tyson. He didn’t understand why he felt this surge of emotion, he’s not used to experiencing empathy or concern for people other than himself. He was a cold, confident and described as a ‘tough guy’ so he really didn’t know how to handle the way he was feeling right now, especially over his classmate. Harry was the type of guy who fucks and dumps a girl, he didn’t really care much but with y/n for some reason it was different and he didn’t know if he likes it or not.

‘what? What’s wrong Y/n?’

He was gnawing on his lip waiting for her reply, his forehead breaking out into a cold sweat from the stress when she took over three minutes to reply.

‘my parents hurt me Harry, please help me’

Immediately he was on his feet, marching towards his mothers room since she took his car keys at night, trying to prevent him from sneaking out at least on school nights. He didn’t care it was midnight, someone asked him for help and he was going to try his fucking hardest to do so.

“Mum! Mum please open the door! I need my keys it’s an emergency” Harry felt a bit guilty about pounding on his sleeping mothers door at such a late hour, but he has to focus on something else right now. When a sleepy confused Anne cracked her door open, squinting at the hall lights he took his chance to barge in, “Harry, what are you doing? What happened baby?” the boy plucked his car keys from the little bowl on her dresser turning back to his confused mum. “I’m sorry, I’ll explain later but my friend needs help. It’s Y/n, you know the girl I did a project with? The sweet one? She needs help. I love ya’ mum I’ll be safe I swear.” As soon as he entered the room, he left slipping his shoes on as he slipped out the door to rush to his car, fumbling with his phone to send another text to her.

‘I’m on my way, what’s the plan? Are your parents asleep?’

He cursed to himself when his nervous hands dropped his keys under his seat while on their way to be shoved into the ignition. His ringtone sounding deafening to his ringing ears.

‘They are still awake. This was a bad idea, I’m sorry for bothering you. I shouldn’t of overreacted.’

Y/n was shaking, her parents had come knocking on her door just as Harry texted her about his whereabouts and she immediately knew she wouldn’t be getting out of there and she was stuck doing damage control through a text while trying to stuff her phone under her mattress so her parents didn’t break down her door. She somehow managed to do it all in 10 seconds, swinging her door open to reveal her mother. Y/n shivered from the look her mother was giving her. She knew what was going to happen and she wanted to vomit from it. Her parents would force her to do ‘purity checks’ whenever they thought she was disobeying god. It was a humiliating experience, painful and it made her feel sick every time. she felt stripped of all security and privacy when her mother did a gynecologist type exam on the young girl to make sure her hymen is still intact justifying it saying, ‘when you disrespect god, we have to make sure you aren’t doing it from lack of purity’ ‘no husband will want a dirty girl’ ‘it makes god happy’, but it didn’t make Y/n happy. It made her scared, it felt wrong but she knew she didn’t have a choice and she was royally fucked if Harry was still on his way there.

Her tongue was numb from how hard she had bitten down on it, silent tears puddling at the side of her face while her mother did her ‘check’ on her daughter. Y/n was mortified, felt entirely violated and was trying to resist the urge to vomit. Y/n has started to disassociate during stressful times like this. She forced her mind to go else ware so she wouldn’t completely break down. If she let her mind convince her she was on the beach, wrapped in a warm towel with the sunsetting it made the reality less loud to her.

Her lucid state vanished as her mother removed herself from between her legs, noting she was still ‘pure’ and ‘valuable for trade’. The dehumanizing way of speaking, truly and deeply made Y/n feel like nothing more than an object. A possession that’s meant to be bought and sold, rather then the young woman she was growing to be. Feeling worthless was something she was becoming accustomed too even when it made her feel like maybe, life wasn’t worth living anymore. She didn’t like feeling like this.

The tears didn’t seem to stop while she walked into her bathroom, dipping her head down to take a sip of water from the faucet to try to soothe her pounding head.

When she was sure everyone else was asleep, she felt grabbed her phone from under her mattress finding loads of messages from Harry.

‘what? Love, you’re scaring me what’s going on?’

‘I’m coming anyway, I don’t care.’

‘I’m outside, whenever you see this let me know because I’m not leaving I’m parked by the end of the block.’

‘Y/n please, please answer me. you’re not okay I know it’

y/n was conflicted. She felt trapped, her way out was so close yet felt so fucking far. She didn’t know what to do, her head felt like it was going to explode.

‘sorry, my mum came in and did a purity check. Had to hide my phone. I’m sorry I scared you I shouldn’t have said anything. You can go home I’m sorry Harry.’

Harry lifted his forehead off his steering wheel when he heard his phone go off, a frown etched deep on his face while he read it. What the fuck is a purity check? Why is she defending her parents? Why is she apologizing for asking for help? It didn’t sit right with him, not one bit. Harry had met y/n’s father once at a school event and he didn’t like the vibe he gave off in the slightest. He reminded him of how the handsy priests looked at the young girls at school, her father had cold eyes was basically emotionless and spoke about Y/n like she was a dog or an object. It made his skin crawl then, and now more than ever his alarm bells were going off. Harry was good at reading people and energy they gave off. He was associated with drug dealers, and other not so savory characters and he had a good reader on for when they were sketchy, or untrustworthy and her father definitely gave that vibe.

‘no, y/n I’ll break into your house if I have to. You either come with me willingly or I come in and get you. I’m not leaving without you.’

His response woke Y/n up a bit. She was reminded why she asked for help earlier, the feelings coming back completely. And so, she listened. When she heard the soft snores start to grow louder coming from her parents’ room, she started quietly gathering up a small bag with her phone, a charger, her school bag and a toothbrush. She was still dressed in her school uniform from earlier, she never had a chance to change. Her knuckles were swollen, bruised and aching while she zipped the bag tiptoeing down the steps and fleeing through the door in only her tight clad feet dashing towards Harry’s car.

Harry jumped when he heard the sudden knocking on her car window, seeing Y/n he immediately unlocked the door breathing a sigh of relief when she hopped in the car. He felt better knowing she was with him now, she was safe for the time being, and as soon as he looked at her, she burst into tears. Big fat tears coming from her pretty eyes, rushing down her cheeks as choked sobs rattled through her throat. He felt a foreign pang in his chest seeing the usual sunny girl breaking down in front of him. “Here, hey c’mere.” He spoke softly to her, his hands moving to bring her over into his lap using his free one to pull a lever so the seat slides back to give them enough space for her to be held securely in the older boys embrace. “it’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright. You’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you. Not gonna let them hurt you either. Breathe Y/n breathe, god you’re shaking like a leaf darling.” He kept his tone level and soft while he spoke to her, stroking her back and hair trying to calm her down enough so he can drive them somewhere safer.

Y/n sat herself up a bit to wipe her eyes, only then did Harry see the damage on her poor hands. It looked horrible, how someone’s knuckles look after punching a concreate wall. He gently took her hands in his, looking over the injury sucking in a pained breath “Christ love, what did they do to you? Does it hurt? can you bend them?” she nodded and showed him how she could still ball her fists even with the bad pain, which showed him they weren’t broken.

“C-can we le-leave please? Y-you can drop m-me at the school and I’ll c-camp out there till we have class. I don’t have anywhere e-else to. I c-can go back home if yo-you want me to-“ she was rambling, she felt like a burden. Y/n really didn’t know where to go from here, where did she even have to go? Her sisters were hours away with their husbands, she didn’t have any friends and there was no where to go. “No no, you can come to my house. Not letting you sleep outside that shithole. Can come to my house, promise I won’t hurt ya’”

At this point she was too tired to fight, too upset to refuse so she simply nodded and let him place her back in her seat and make the drive towards his home.

“Here, drink some water. Do you want to change hon?” Harry had Y/n sit on the couch as they got into his home, handing her a bottle of water before sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “No, I don’t have any clothes. I’ll just keep this on since we have school in a few hours. I’ll just have to wait to get home before I can change.” Y/n wasn’t really understanding the situation at hand, she didn’t see the turmoil around her like Harry did. “No no, we’re taking the day off school and you’re not going back home till I know what the hell is going on there. you can wear some of my clothes. They’ll be big on you but it’s better than our shitty uniform.” He insisted, holding her chin to make her look at him. “Harry those are bad words, shouldn’t say that.” Her reply was soft, reminding him she still was y/n sweet and innocent. But right now, he needed to be the mature and brutally honest person for her because she was clueless.

With some gentle convincing Y/n finally agreed to change. He gave her privacy while she changed into the baggy sweat pants and hoodie that seemed to swallow her since they were so large. Harry thinks she’s never looked smaller, more fragile, or cuter. But right now wasn’t for crushes or cuteness, this was a time to take care of the girl. “Comfortable? Good, here finish the water and eat a few of these crackers. Can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch yea?”

She did as she was told, sipping the water till it was gone and munching on the saltines while she sat on his bed laying down when she was finished.

Harry took a blanket and pillow downstairs and started to situate himself on the couch, getting himself comfortable before a soft padding on the steps caught his attention and there was Y/n standing with misty eyes holding one of his blankets in her hand. “What’s wrong love?” “Scared…scared to be alone I’m sorry…c-can you stay with me please? Or i-I can sleep on the floor while you sleep on the couch so I’m not alone?” Harry took a few moments to think her words over, his mind slow from his tiredness but Y/n in her fragile state took this as a dismissal and so she nodded to herself and sniffled, “It’s okay, sorry for asking…sleep well Harry.” Before he could respond she had rushed back up the steps and into his room. She felt embarrassed, small and vulnerable. Her mind screaming, she was ‘stupid’ for even asking him that, she was convinced he only pitied her and that’s why she’s here. She couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone actually wanting her around or caring about how she feels. While in her current mental state with the loud thoughts banging on the inside of her skull, she started putting her things back in her bag, planning to leave so he could sleep without being bothered by her.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s voice seemed 10 times louder as he stood against his doorframe, rubbing his tired eyes while watching Y/n scramble to collect her belongings. Her movements halted instantly, nerves making her feel sick yet again. “W-was just gonna go home. I’m sorry I shouldn’t of come here, you did so much for me I just have to change and I’ll be gone, I’m sorry.” Her speech was frantic, fumbling her words a bit as she tried to rush it out. “What? Is this because of what you asked? Love I’m sleepy took me a minute to form coherent words. Relax put the bag down, lay down I’ll stay with you.”

When she didn’t react he took it upon himself to remove the bag from her shaky bruised hands, gently placing it on his desk and guiding her to lay in his bed moving in next to her before flipping the lights off.

“Harry?” her voice was mouse like, but he still heard it. “yea love?” his hand searched for hers in the dark, “Thank you for helping me…means a lot…i-I’m afraid Harry...” once he grabbed her hand he remembered it was injured, opting to wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. “Scared of what Y/n?” there was a few beats of silence before she timidly answered, “My parents…and God”

Harry took a deep breath before responding, “Well, you don’t need to be scared of God. You’ve done nothing wrong. Your parents are going to be punished by him, not you. And for your parents…can you please tell me what is going on?”

“what do you want to know?”

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

Text

Ectober Day 7: Hero - But It’s Not Funny

*a sequel to Realities Little Joke For Infinity* Highly recommend reading that first but it’s not exactly necessary.

Tony has a bad habit of adopting strays. Particularly the stupidly heroic kind that were too reckless and too selfless for their own good. So of course he wasn’t going to just ignore the random teen that literally saved the universe only to disappear into the future. Even if said teen was somewhat dead and the only hero left in a world and time that seriously needed more.

Tony grins as he finally gets the connection to work, making his face appear on the strange future teens laptop; or whatever tech people used in whatever time this kid’s in. Going a bit wide-eyed and wheezing when the first thing he sees is Phantom -in alien PJ’s, because of course the first thing he sees on the kid who showed up in a t-shirt and jeans to an active warzone is pjs- shrieking and jumping a foot off the ground while holding a full pot off coffee; which predictably sends the contents of said coffee pot flying into the air and splattering all over the teens face and floor.

Phantom looks to the screen slowly, with steaming coffee dripping off his chin, hair and eyelashes, “seriously?”.

At that Tony can’t help but bend over laughing. Straightening up and looking at the coffee pot, “what were you even doing walking around with a full coffee pot?”.

“Well I was going to drink it. But now it’s as empty as my wallet”, Phantom looks down at the pot and grumbles, “ya know what? Fuck it. I’m still gonna drink it”, then pointing his finger around and telekinetically making all the droplets of coffee on him and the floor float back into the pot.

Tony watches, a little disgusted, as the kid practically takes a full swing of the previously spilled coffee, shrugs, and sits down by his own screen; feet clearly pulled up onto the chair seat as well and coffee pot cradled between his knees and chest. Tony eyeballs the coffee pot, “you’re really going to drink that huh?”.

Phantom shrugs, “I know what’s on my floor”, looks down at the carpet and shrugs again while muttering, “a Zone damned biohazard of blood n’ ‘plasm that’s what. Oh!”, eyes widening a little, “and a sock with a questionable stain”, looking back to the screen, “‘s not like I can get sick anyway. I could drink this shit outta a radioactive waste barrel and be fine. Prob’ taste like shit tho”.

Tony wheezes both amused and pained, “please don’t kid”, that... that would definitely make him gag.

Phantom chuckles, “don’t intend to”.

The two sit in silence for a bit. Tony taking in the teens appearance. There’s hand-shaped bruising coating his neck, one of his fingers is clearly broken, and there’s a pencil-sized hole going clean through the other hands palm. Phantom doesn’t even seem to care about the state of his body, considering how relaxed he seems and the PJ’s. Plus, no way would Tony be carrying anything, including a full pot of coffee, with his hands in the state Phantom’s are.

Phantom yawns, Tony noticing that he’s missing more than a handful of teeth, before Phantom asks, “so...why’s the past tin can face-timing my laptop?”.

Tony puts on a smile, so it was a laptop. Neat. “future or not, I’ve adopted you as one of my brats. I remember you saying there wasn’t superheroes in your age”, waving his hand around, “no older generation to guide the newer. Well you're getting the older generation now”, shrugging and smiling more genuinely, “plus underroos won’t stop talking about you”. Understatement of the century, Peter was thrilled to meet another teen hero, and wouldn’t stop going on about what powers he might have or if he even has anyone to support him. The latter Tony cares about more.

Phantom wheezes, “whom the fuck is ‘underroos’?”, shaking his head, “so ya wanna be my mentor of sorts and help me blast my foes from the past?”.

Tony smirks and nods, this kid’s humour sure was something else, “exactly. And you met before, the kid? Peter?”. Sure it had been a few months but he couldn’t have seriously just forgotten?

Phantom tilts his head, “the red and blue teenager?”.

Tony grins, “you got it, kid”, eyeing the teen's hands again, “your hands gonna be fine?”.

Phantom waves one hand around, chugging more coffee, “eh don’t worry your metal ass about it. I heal like crazy”, stretching his feet out and resting them on the desk, “I’m just putting it off a while on my hands ‘cause the broken ribs and missing bits of spine are kinda more important ya know?”.

Tony rubs his temples, “Jesus Christ”, just how much damage can this teen sustain? That kind of injury should kill a person.

Phantom laughs, probably at Tony’s pained expression, “don’t worry about that either! Not like I can die twice! Haha!”.

Tony looks back to the screen at that, feeling a bit more serious, “yeah, Thanos said something like that. That you were dead but alive. And you confirmed it. What did he even mean?”.

Phantom purses his lips, “well I could explain but that also could mess with the time stream and could result in some weird immoral science crap”. Tony doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Phantom turns his head to the side and whines exaggeratedly at the thin air, opening his mouth as wide as looks physically possible, maybe even past that, “tiiiiiiime dadddddddyyyyyyy, will this break the time stream? Your problem child has a proooooobleeeeeeem”.

Tony wheezes into his hands, “Christ”, and stares dumbfounded as a giant hourglass with purple sand comes out of nowhere and smacks the teen in the face, making Phantom fall out of the chair with a thud.

Phantom groans and begins laughing, righting himself and spinning the hourglass around, pointing the bottom of it at the screen, it reading ‘you’re fine’. Tony is so not reading into that, kid had someone like Strange in his corner. Phantom sits back down, lifting up the hourglass like it’s a weight, “Kay Kay Kay, so I’m a halfa right? Unique creature, that’s what I am. A fucked up little science project gone wrong, or right. Your choice. My folks screwed up in the lab and boom!”, he sticks his limbs out comically before righting himself and catching the coffee pot he effectively tossed in the air, “a whack-a-mole of electricity and a wormhole decided to stop my tiny little heart. Also restarted it too though! So it’s cool”, tilting his head, “wait... didn’t I already explain this?”.

Tony sighs, “sort of. We were in the middle of a war”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow, “your point? That was, like, the bloody third one I’ve been in”, rolling his hand around, “first there was the High Ghost King, his fifty-thousand odd skeletons, and objects of near-unlimited power. The alternate future where an evil me single-handedly annihilated humanity, talk about traumatising having to fight yourself literally”, tilting his head, “and no clue if the plant guy with his army of mind-controlled people and plants or the sleep guy with his army of Walkers, counted as ‘wars’. And eh!”, snapping his fingers, “there was that guy I stole the Reality Gauntlet from! He took over the planet and turned people into clowns and shit. So that might be big enough to count as a war, even if it was just him versus me. But then the tornado guy caused storms all over the planet too so would that count then too?”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’m sticking with three. Pariah would have eventually destroyed the Zone, which woulda ended the universe. Dan was actively on his way to ending all life in the universe, probably all death too. And grape guy, Thanos, was about to annihilate half the life in the universe which honestly would just end all life eventually... maybe”.

Tony stares at the kid before wheezing some more and falling backwards, “Christ”, righting himself and his chair, “there is something seriously wrong with your life. Like, seriously wrong”. Apparently the future was a freaking mess and fixing its crap was all on one random teen's shoulders. All because the kid died, which somehow gave him superpowers, and decided to make something good out of that death. Talk about unfair. And messed up. Really messed up. At least Tony had his team and they had each other, “please tell me you have some kind of support?”.

Phantom grins and nods eagerly, “got my guy in the chair techy, he destroyed a sataliget once! My rich activist goth, she sued one of my enemies into oblivion. And a ghost hunter who only sometimes tries to murder me and got a nanobot supersuit running through her veins; she can lowkey kick my ass if I hold back enough to avoid accidentally killing the living”, wagging his finger at the screen and getting really close, “us dead fucks are borderline indestructible immortals, halfas even more so”, leaning back and shrugging, “can still die, or fade it’s called for the spookies, though. Well, most can anyway. Timedaddy’s straight-up immortal. But if they died then, well, then the universe would literally implode from the time-stream collapsing”, and makes a little explosion sound and motion with his hands. Oh fuck, the kid was really just a damn kid. And from the sounds of it, his entire support was three teenagers. Ah Hell. Oh and some time being, ghost?, that just left him to his own devices.

Tony shakes his head, “you know what? That doesn’t actually make me feel any better”.

Phantom shrugs, drinks, swishes the coffee around, “don’t know what to tell you, man, my entire existence is pretty fucked up. My archenemy is my uncle, wants to adopt me, and gave me his inheritance. My girlfriend has a solid murder boner for me. My parents get giddy at the idea of dissecting me and are actually worse about that the odd time they’ve been successful. The kids’ at school think I’m their personal punching bag. The government would love to shoot me full of missiles and bombs. Pretty sure my sis is just using me for her research paper on ghost psychology or whatever. And my friendships are pretty much based on the three of us just being really weird”.

Tony groans, this kid probably needed more help and support that literally any other teen or hero. “ClockPops is great though. We play chess”,

Tony blinks, mentally pausing, “you... play chess? Seriously?”, this kid seemed to have more issues sitting still than Peter did. Tony finds it hard to believe he can sit through even half a game of chess.

Phantom nods and grins, “yup. Switched the pieces out for shot-glasses once, it was great. One of my teachers is cool too. He crossdressed and pretended to be his own sister to get me to try harder on a test; it worked better than it had any right to”.

Tony blinks and breathes, “your life”, shaking his head because it sounded like the future was just pure insanity, “well now I’m here and while I’m a bit reckless and a recovering alcoholic, I’m not insane”.

Phantom chuckles, “I’ll probably prove to be a bit much for you then. I’d have to be stupid to not think I’m not at least marginally nuts. Nowhere near frootloopy but eh”.

Tony sighs, being self-aware enough -or just not giving enough of a damn- to recognise that was both impressive and depressing. Impressively depressing. “A few of us Avengers are trained doctors and psychologists outside of being experienced heroes. So kid? You’ve got all of us. At least for verbal advice. Strange already went and basically confirmed that paying you a visit wasn’t a smart idea”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, sipping a bit more before staring down the pot at the small amount left. Speaking into the pot, “oh yeah, I can just imagine all the time problems that could cause. I’m surprised this is okay”.

Tony can’t help chuckling at the slightly silly image, though he’s not sure why the kid doesn’t just drink what’s left, savouring it maybe? “Same. Strange looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. He’s probably going to pester you about the Clock guy you keep mentioning”, grumbling to the side, “I just hope Loki will keep his trickster mitts off you”. Because fuck, they’d probably get on like fire and more fire. Which yeah, slightly horrifying mental image. Probably inevitable though. Loki was already impressed, amused, and interested by Phantom and literally everything the teen did after showing up. Seriously though, who’s first thought when fighting giant spaceships with mouths and other horrifying shit, is to turn it into bouncy balls and worms??? And a smoothie for a reward? For effectively saving the universe? Kid was a trickster, dabbled in death kind of literally, and ‘gave precisely zero fucks’. Loki would have a field day and probably be a horrid influence. Though thinking of it, Phantom might be a bad influence on Loki. Loki generally had reasons for anything beyond mild messing with people. Phantom seemed more likely to just go buck wild purely because he could. Even if he seemingly had a heart of gold and more self-sacrificial bones in his body than actual bones. Seemed like his entire world/time belittled and beat the shit out of him, and yet he gladly got dissected and lost chunks of his freaking spine for them. At least he had the power to back it up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at mist, or something, leaving the kid’s mouth before Phantom goes wide-eyed and Tony jerks as an actual literal swear-on-every-ironsuit-and-the-entire-tower cartoonish rocket smashes apart what he’s assuming is-was a window; sending glass flying everywhere... and Phantom flying off-screen, the coffee pot going up in the air and sounding like it smashed apart on the ground.

Tony can practically hear the glare in Phantom’s voice, “hey! You spilled my damn coffee!”, while a robot blasts into the room, breaking more glass and bits of wood from the looks of it.

The robot pauses, seems to frown apologetically before shrugging, “apologies whelp, but it is no matter! You won’t need such things after I skin you!“. Tony chokes and gags a little at that. “Also-”, pointing to where Phantom probably is, “-that was practically empty”. Tony then stares as Phantom comes back in screen -looking all black and white- only for the robot to shoot a missile at him immediately, Phantom just sort of shrugs and lets the missile hit him in the face. This kid seriously really didn’t give a damn about his own well being.

And not even seconds later Peter walks in out of the blue, face lighting up as he notices the screen and probably Phantom’s very noticeable self on it, and dashes over. Obviously noticing Phantom’s current situation, “oh Phantom! Kick his butt!”.

Phantom does a silly thumbs up at the screen and immediately gets stabbed in the shoulder. Tony watches in slight disbelief at the kid looking at the knife, saying, “oh! You got a new knife! Shit is the handle engraved?!?”. And the robot actually stops and replies with a wide grin, “it was a valentines gift from Ember! Impressive right?”.

Tony and Peter both blink at the fight effectively stopping as Phantom pulls out the knife and looks it over, seeming impressed, “actually yeah”, pointing almost aggressively at the robot, “you got her something too right? You’re fucking horrible for that man”.

The robot rolls Its eyes, how metal is moving that organically Tony has no clue. “Of course whelp, those drum sticks you can sing into”. Phantom facepalms and Peter actually shakes his head in disappointment. Though Tony agrees, that was awful. But who talks with their enemy -who wants to skin them for peat's sake!- about presents?

Phantom makes a tsk tsk sound, “you dumbass, she got you a sick-ass knife and you got her a knick-knack? Seriously?”, Phantom walks off-screen, the two watching as what they’re assuming is cash flys over to the robot and Phantom returns on screen, “go by some flowers to make up for that crappy present. And for the love of everything, don’t get roses”, waving his hand around, “that’s so cliche. Go with tulips and forget-me-nots”.

The robot inspects the cash before flying off-screen, presumably back out through the window It destroyed, “I will have your pelt next time, whelp!”.

Phantom chuckles, shouting back, “sure you will, Skulkie! Ghost Zones greatest hunter”. Tony and Peter can feel the sarcasm in that. “Also! No you don’t have to ask! An engraved knife would be a wicked Christmas Truce present!”. Tony sighs when a ball or something slams into Phantom’s stomach and sends him flying off-screen.

Peter leaning towards the camera, “woah! You okay?”.

Phantom’s laughter echoes horribly, “right as rain! Mind you, it’s not actually raining”, righting himself and pulling himself up into the previously knocked over chair, “don't mind Skulker, he’s a poacher and I’m rare. Practically one of a kind actually. A poachers dream prize. His girlfriend has a mind-controlling guitar and occasionally attempts at world domination”. A ghost-shaped guitar floats on-screen, Phantom grabbing it, “she gives awesome presents though”, and gives the guitar a good couple strums.

Peter’s eyes go wide, “you can play the guitar?!?”, tilting his head and asking what is in Tony’s opinion a more important question, “wait, your enemies buy you presents?”, tilting his head back, “oh man that’s awesome”. Tony just shakes his head with a smile, teenagers.

Phantom grins and strums some more before the guitar floats off-screen, “all my enemies do”, shrugging, “for the Christmas Truce and my death-day anyway. But that’s normal. A ghost culture thing. Even the prison warden guy, whose got special torture weapons set aside just for little ol’ me, buys me some kind of present. Heck! Even the eyeballs do! And they’ve repeatedly tried to assassinate me”.

Tony blinks, “kid, that makes no sense. But I’m glad they’re at least occasionally nice to you”. Hell knows Phantom needs someone to be nice to him.

Peter tilts his head, “what even is a ‘death-day’? Sounds dark”.

“Oh nothing special, just the day I died. Like a birthday! But for death! A real dead-ringer of a holiday!”, and laughs loudly before rolling his eyes at Tony, waving his hand around, “eh, I’m kinda their king so be kinda a dick move to not give me gifts on literally the two biggest holidays”.

Peter practically shrieks, “WHAT! You’re a king! Oh that is so cool”. Tony blinks, “you did mention something about being the guardian of death and Earth”.

Phantom laughs some more and finger-guns while winking at Peter, “yup! Very important, much power”, and grins stupidly before pointing to the air above his head; a green floating crown bursting to ‘life’ with green mist or something wafting off, followed by a black cape with a flaming white collar and large flaming green skulls pinning it closed with a shadowy chain.

Peter cheers immediately, then adding, “Loki would love this!”. Tony points at him, “no. I want to keep that one as far away as possible for as long as possible”.

Phantom snickers, “I have chronic bad luck, so don’t count on that working out for you. Spidey probably has better tastes than you though, Ironass”.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, “you like making up names for people huh?”.

Phantom grins meanly, “it pisses people off. Which makes them easier to hit”, and holds up a fist, smacking a hand on his bicep.

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, “you got a point kid!”, though that was stupid reckless, and effectively confirmed him being tricky. One of Tony’s tech toys starts beeping so she moves to check it out. Peter taking his place in the chair. Glancing back at Tony before looking back to the screen, “hey I’ve got a question, teen to teen. What’s being a hero to you? Why do you do it? It just... it seems like your only suffering for it. Waaaaay more than normal. And not making stuff much better for it”.

Phantom hums, spinning around in the chair, “a hero's not afraid to give their life, and anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for. I do it so others will not suffer. That is all. It doesn’t matter if things change or not. If there’s still unnecessary violence and pain, then it is still a hero's place to grab their fists around it and pulverise it to Hell and back. So long as cruelty exists I will be there to stand against it. With a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart and Core. Because there is no greater joy, no greater choice, no greater path, than self-sacrifice for the sake of another. Regardless who they are, what they are. Good or bad. Young or old. And whether they support you, or not”, Phantom nods, puts his hands behind his head, cape bunching up, and looks to the side, “and maybe someday things will change. I doubt it, but who knows. But if things do, if that kind of future is on the horizon, then I think I’ll rest. Until then, I’ll be here. Doing what I do and suffering immeasurably for it. Until the world doesn’t need ‘heroes’ anymore. Till it doesn’t need me anymore”, looking back at the screen, Tony having walked back over slowly though the kid doesn’t pay him any mind, “so I guess, being a hero to me is being the embodiment of a brighter future. To absorb the suffering of the world”, sticking a finger up, “like a paper towel!”. Tony chokes at that a little; though the kids' sudden seriousness and introspection was just as startling as last time.

Tony shakes his head, “you make it sound like you’re immortal, kid. Also, that’s what a team’s for, to help share the load. The burden. Sure your ideals are noble and probably needed, but you can’t help anyone if you destroy yourself”.

Phantom smiles but something about it seems almost... sad. “In a way, I am. A ghost can not die and a human can not fade. A ghost ceases to exist when they fade and a human when they die. Yet I can do neither. So that raises the question, what is ‘death’ for a halfa? An idea? An ideal? A reality? Or just pointless conjecture. And besides, for a ghost to fade they must satiate their Obsession. Be satisfied with the fulfilment of their existence”, pointing to his chest, “and my Obsession? Protection. To protect is a physical and mental need for me. And it will never be satisfied till there’s nothing left needing protection. And it is thus that I will always be here”, shrugging and chuckling, “likely anyway”.

Tony blinks, that... that changed a lot actually. It also explained a lot. This wasn’t some kid playing hero, or even an experienced hero just doing what’s right and their job. This wasn’t someone stuck in a bad way and doing what needed to be done purely because no one else could. This wasn’t someone trying to do good to make up for their sorted past. This was someone wise beyond their years, with little to no regard for themselves, and a living -half-living- embodiment of the word ‘hero’. Watching the teen turn his head at someone -likely his mom- shouting that supper was ready. There was a rocket-powered fistfight minutes ago and his parents’ didn’t even check on him. Christ that was depressing. But it also made him want to help this kid out all the more.

Phantom turns back to the screen, “whelp that’s my queue then I guess. And let me guess? This-” gesturing at the screen, “-is gonna become a thing? Which totally cool, little warning next time. And keep this mind, walking the straight and narrow takes more time than I got. I will steal, mildly harm, trick, and lie, as I see fit”.

Tony rolls his eyes, he’d expect no different from a kid basically left up to their own devices, “we’re all guilty of that, kid”. Phantom just laughs as the screen goes dark.

Tony leans back, well fuck, he wasn’t prepared for the kid to have shit that bad. And the King situation definitely threw him through a loop. He’ll have to talk to Thor -not Loki, dear God not Loki- about that. Being a hero and a king.

Regardless, they’re gonna help the weird spooky future kid out. And Peter absolutely liked Phantom, which hopefully wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hopefully. (And it wasn’t, if you ignored Peter carrying out more than a few pranks on Phantom’s behalf).

End.

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awhilde · 4 years

Text

stupid

pairings: kaeya (genshin impact) x reader

genre(s): just pure fluff!

warnings: swearing and minor (tiny) mentions of death. also, it would be advised to play the game ‘genshin impact’ up past adventure rank 10 because there are a few spoilers (?) and mentions of specific scenes.

word count: 2.6k words

synopsis: in which you can’t stand the stupid ice man that seems to trail after your every move, infuriating with every word that falls from his lips, every curve of his mouth and every tilt of his head. the pure annoyance he gifts you makes your chest ache in exhaustion. i mean, that is the sole reason why your heart is pumping overdrive, right?

author’s note: this is just a really quick, cheesy and plotless oneshot that i decided to write in under an hour, i think? if i’m being honest, i just wanted to see what my page would look like with something published, but please enjoy regardless! god i’m simping for kaeya even though genshin is literally not an otome game what ?? gave them the right to make him look so good??

a harmless tune twinkles in the city’s atmosphere, sorrowful tales hidden behind the cheer of a folk song and the strum of a harp

you listen, leaning against an open window, letting the gentle breeze tousle your hair behind your ears, drinking in the refreshing sensation of the wind kissing your closed eyes and exposed face. the suffocating atmosphere of the library leaves you as you daydream with the hum of the melody and lose yourself in its rhythm

the scent of the storm last night taunts your mind of a nostalgic memory, easing the growing beast of worry in your heart

the thought reminds you of the cause of such worry and you sigh reluctantly, knowing the pile of research notes by your desk wouldn’t sign themselves as you wasted time by this pocket of air, but your limbs are frozen, leisurely leaning against the frame of the window. you allow for time to flow unrestricted past your consciousness for there might not be another opportunity in the near future when you could relax as you did now

life couldn’t possibly be contained within stress and work. you’d combust if this was the prevailing knowledge, collapsing from overworking your body or perhaps even dying from high blood pressure in your late 20’s which crept closer as time went by

where had your teenage years gone? the thrill of adventure and death?

“something on your mind, name?”

your eyes snap open, body whisking around to face the man that had managed to sneak up to your side without your notice. you recognise the presence beside you long before your eyes had laid upon their figure for they had been your partner in crime for far too long for you not to adapt to his chilly atmosphere

at least he was nice to be around in summer

kaeya, that infuriating ice man that had insisted on growing closer towards you despite the only connection you two shared being the fact that jean enjoyed tormenting you and placing the two of you together in missions

he had made his way to your right, contrasting your position as he leaned his back against the wall whilst you leaned your front torso out the window. suddenly the wind was nothing compared to him. with his arms crossed at his front, he gives you a side-long glance and smirks at your expression

huffing you turn away. “what do you want now, kaeya?” you ask

“what is with this hostility?” he shoots back. “don’t tell me i actually surprised you by being here.”

your silence was enough of an answer for him to brighten. “wait, for real?”

you groan, cheek in your palm as you continue to close your eyes. “go away, kaeya, if you’re just here to make fun of me. go bother someone else, hasn’t there been a traveller of sorts that’s appeared recently?”

kaeya hums. “yeah, what about them?”

“go send them on a wild goose chase or something. didn’t you do that to the other one that passed by?” this time, you steal a peak at him through one eye. despite this being a small movement, kaeya’s immediately chases your eye.

ah, there’s that stupid sneer of his that you couldn’t stand. the sight was as familiar as the sun’s touch having seen it everywhere; after freezing jean’s feet to the ground when she got “too boring”, when he’d freeze the walls of your office in order to chase you out of the room and when he’d won that stupid game in that one stupid festival when they’d finished a mission early, turning with that exact sneer, his eyes steady and wild on yours as he handed you the first prize gift, not failing to bow as he presented the toy to you. that stupid pink bunny still sat somewhere in your room, not treasured but simply looked after. it wasn’t a significant item to be cherished after all

“i already did.” he had been saying when you zoned out. “i told them there was a mysterious treasure and sent them off. that little thing they had with them was especially keen on getting her small hands on whatever it was. shame there was nothing there to begin with, just another plan to draw out the futoi rats but i would have liked to see what that little thing could do with immense power. eat exotic foods, maybe?”

his eyes dart back to yours when he didn’t receive the response he expected; silence, and turns to face you. your eyes had gone glassy whilst in the process of reminiscing and he knew you were no longer in the present time. he sighs and stands

you catch the movement and snap back to reality, blinking before narrowing your eyes at his stupid face. “you have a look in your eyes.” you observe hesitantly

“and you weren’t paying attention to anything i said.” he retorts. he leans forward with his arms still crossed as if attempting to examine you further. the proximity startles you and you take a step back on instinct

the action makes him raise an eyebrow. “you’re also surprisingly quiet and grumpy today.”

wow you both are so good at stating the very obvious

it was true, despite hating his guts you couldn’t deny the spark of chemistry between the both of him whether it be dancing on the battlefield or even the snarky banter that he oddly seemed to enjoy. in an attempt to cover up where you had lacked, you face the window again. for some reason, it was easier to talk to him when you weren’t confronted with his stupid face. “oh? aren’t you glad i haven’t remarked on that stupid eyepatch you wear yet? unless, of course, you agree completely with what i say about it which, y’know, is the objective truth. it couldn’t possibly have been inherited. and its ugly.”

“nope! just as the title of being a pirate has been passed down in my family generation, so has the need to wear an eyepatch.” he cheerfully responds. “nice try, name, but i can still tell that you’re feeling down. you gonna tell me what it is or are we gonna continue this act until you grow bore of it?”

you sigh, caught in your façade that you had sub-consciously put up as a defense mechanism. not that he had no know what it was. something stupid in your stomach explodes with warmth at his prying, but you can’t hate it. that same stupid thing brings you to face him again and you regret it as soon as your eyes meet

he had stepped closer, close enough for you to feel his chill through the fabric of your clothes, close enough to see the fur on his attire rustle from the breeze by the window, his hair tousling also, close enough for your eyes to become captivated from his

well, his one eye

singular

eye

you chuckle slightly, the sound bubbling from the back of your throat until its pouring out without limit. you bend over, still giggling and the force makes you stumble. but its hilarious, does he wink or blink? omg imagine if he seductively winks but it just looks like he’s well, blinking

kaeya is taken back by your giggles but his incredulous stare doesn’t manage to stop the endless wave of laughter that causes tears to form at your eye, and your cheeks to begin to ache. it would hurt his reputation severely if he’d attempt to cheekily wink only to have the receiver no clue on what he was doing

god, you can’t believe you love this stupid boy

your laughter halts almost immediately

…

love?

you don’t love him

why would you even consider that you liked him? he was a major pain in the ass, always bothering you when you worked, always messing around, always teasing you

right, you had just been so caught up in your laughter that it convinced your mind that the endorphins that had been released was due to kaeya, but it wasn’t. you don’t feel that way about him, you had just found his appearance hilarious

right

kaeya raises another eyebrow at you. “right, are you feeling okay? maybe we should ask jean for you to take a break.” he mumbles the last part as if it was an after thought but you hear it anyways

you turn away from him and begin walking back to your office. you knew he would follow after you and he does, his footsteps echoing your own until he is walking beside you, synced in your movements. “i’m not even that busy, stop exaggerating.” you step is bouncier, your fit of laughter at fault for your raised mood

“maybe not but you’re certainly boring.”

“your idea of fun is literally drinking with dilluc and making jean mad. maybe you shouldn’t be the one telling me if i’m boring?”

“so you’re not gonna deny it?’

“i like to think i take every one of my flaws into my stride. it would be even more embarrassing if someone didn’t know how much they sucked. like say, didn’t know how stupid they looked with an eyepatch?” you stick out your tongue at him and pulled down your eye. “pirate headass.”

he laughs as if you said something funny, but along the way you laugh with him

the sound of your laughs merging together, fuelling each other on, sound like music to your ears, a clearer tune than the only floating around the city, prettier than the twinkle of bells and bird song. it sounded familiar, like home, like watching rain dance on a windowpane, like heating your hands on a warm drink

“good to know your only insult of me is my eyepatch.” he says after your chuckles die

“and how is that a good thing?”

he sneaks a glance at you before looking start forward

“it means i must look practically perfect in your eyes, save for my apparently odd fashion sense. careful, name, or you’ll somehow manage to confess to me without your own knowledge.”

you splutter as he finishes, for some reason feeling defensive. “what the fuck do you mean by that?”

“well, you’re complimenting me, no? every other aspect of me are too good to insult?” the pair of you approach the doors to your office and his face lights up, mind clearly departing his last thought. “ah! we’re here. wait, why are we here again?” despite his words, he steps forward to enter your room, neither stopping to check if he had your permission nor to see if you were going insideyou narrowly miss the door as you unfreeze and dash in after him

he had already made his way to the back corner of the room, observing the shelf you had placed beside your desk. the shelves contained items that you held dear to you, the pair of earrings your aunt had gifted you before her demise, a book that you particularly enjoyed when you were younger, a stick figure of an old cartoon mascot back when you were only a child and so much more. it aided in providing you a relief of stress in your times of need. they were delicate and of upmost importance, items you placed dangerously close to your heart. but for some reason, you didn’t mind that kaeya were looking at them now

you knew he wouldn’t break them, he wouldn’t be in such a high position of the knights if he was clumsy

instead, your mind travels back in time to what he had said so carelessly before he had entered the room

complimenting him? how absolutely ridiculous. saying his eyepatch made him look uglier was by no means a compliment, not even a twisted one. sure, it may infer that without it he would look much better, but this didn’t mean you would find him attractive without it, what a delusion. and in truth, kaeya treated it as if you were being serious which you weren’t, really. it wasn’t as ugly as you made it sound, you actually thought he suited it quite well.

wait a minute, what were you saying? perhaps kaeya had simply wanted to use reverse psychology on you and twist your very thoughts

well, he almost succeeded, you’ll give him that

“oh? what is this?”

his voice brings you back to reality and you realise with a start that you recognised the thing he was holding in his hand, the source of his question and the reason why the room appeared so much hotter than it had been before

in his hand, he held that stupid pink bunny

his eyes search yours in question, that stupid, stupid sneer on his face once more. it was clear he expected an answer, but you gave him none, instead staring him down with your eyes, feeling hot on your cheeks

“i think i remember this plushy, wasn’t it-“

your limbs move before your mind registers them, arm reaching out and activating your element, anemo, and calling upon the power to have your treasure returned to you

the green appears circling green whisps around the pink fur, growing clearer in appearance every passing millisecond before the entire toy is succumbed with the air

a small explosion follows after the orb, zapping kaeya’s hand, causing him to lose his gentle hold

the bunny falls to the ground, millimetres away from the carpet when you pull it towards you with your anemo

when it finally enters your grasp, you wrap both arms around the bunny and draw it towards your heart, angling your body defensively, hiding it from his stare. “don’t say a single thing.” you warn him, but you know he wouldn’t ever leave you alone now

his eyes stare down at the palm that had been holding the toy before looking back up at you. “you just… used your anemo on me.”

“i did.”

his shell-shocked expression withdraws on his face, a small smile on his lips that was neither the shit-eating grin that he usually wore nor the stupid sneer. it looked sincere. and like he came to a sudden realisation. like something was confirmed

you open your mouth to say more, deny more perhaps yet you wouldn’t know what would come out of your mouth at that moment for your door bursts open, you and kaeya reacting immediately with your respective elements in hands, you only using one as you continue to hug the stuffed toy. an oddly familiar figure appears at the door, clad in white and with bright blonde hair. after the unknown individual, a small human floats after them. at the sight of the two, kaeya relaxes which prompts you to do so as well. ah, now you realised where you had seen them before, they were the iconic traveller

“what are you doing here?” kaeya asks for you. something in his tone is guarded

the small creature, paimon as you remember, speaks first. “we’ve come to ask for a hint! you said you’d help us solve riddles, remember? for the super cool, super wicked sword?” her small head turns to you as if acknowledging you for the first time. “oh, were we interrupting something?”

you raise an eyebrow. “nice to meet you too, i’m name. how did you find this place?”

paimon shrugs. “a knight told us that if we couldn’t find kaeya, we should check in this room.”

those words made the warm icky feeling in your chest expand. you clear your throat as you sense both kaeya’s and paimon’s eyes on you, the traveller oddly not saying a word and staring off into the distance. as subtly as you could, you place the toy behind your back and down on another shelf, reminding yourself to relocate it once whatever kaeya was planning at had finished

“well, show us the riddle then.” you say, ignoring the fuzzy feeling in your chest when kaeya joins the circle the five of you made, surrounding the item in the traveller’s hand and, you cursed, far too close to your right

your arm grazes one another as you shift closer for a better look

but you swallow the feeling deep down and look up to meet the traveller’s eyes. “well, i have a clue what this could mean.” you say, contrasting all the pacing thoughts in your head, casting aside the want to kick the two intruders from your room, to confront kaeya with the emotions you’ve been feeling around him, to possibly cry at the overwhelming truth of it all, that you did love him

but they became only thoughts, visible only in your mind

this world wasn’t suit for romance, not when there was a dragon terrorising the city, not when the gods were angry, not when you hadn’t confirmed if kaeya feels the same way

so you bury your newfound feelings, smiling gently at the traveller as you share what you knew with them, ignoring the present sensation of kaeya by your side, hoping that by the time you had collected yourself, you would be able to hide these foreign feelings

from his stupid face

#kaeya x reader #kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeyagenshinimpact #is this how to tag idk #we really simping for one (1) man #msg me if ur in asia server!!#let's co-op #i rlly want keqing sob #kaeya fluff #genshin impact

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bnhabadass · 4 years

Text

Good Vibrations ~

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Word Count: 1,748 Rating: Mature for 18+ content Warning: Sexual content, public masturbation, use of vibrator A/N: This is my submission to the @bnhabookclub Provisional Licensing Exam. Special thanks to @shoutogepi for beta reading and for the server admins for putting together such a fun event.

When you first started your job, it took a while to get used to the constant inhalation of pollen in the air. The building was small and cramped but the pots of flowers, ferns and other plants as well as a few other aesthetic touches made it feel cozy. You like working at In Bloom. It’s a small business run by a nice older woman. It’s a relaxing job. Only three or four customers come in each shift. The flower shop is like a sanctuary to you. It’s a vacation away from the reality outside the old wooden front door of the shop.

“That’ll be $12.95,” you said after typing the price of the flower arrangement into the store’s computer.

The older man behind the counter handed you his debit card and you slid it through the machine. Smiling, you handed it back to him along with his receipt.

“Thank you.”

“Have a nice day!” You watched as he walked out the door and turned the corner.

It was a pleasant job. Your customers were mostly sweet older people. You enjoy conversing about the different breeds of orchids or crocuses with them. Sometimes they would bring cookies for you to put out on the counter or in the break room.

As you fumbled behind the counter, you heard the gentle chime of the bell hanging from the old wooden door. You lifted your head up and smiled, but instead of the perfumey smell that most of the older ladies had, all you could smell was cigarette ash. And there was no innocent person in front of you looking to buy flowers. No, the only thing in front of you was your drunken mistake from last night and the many nights before that.

“Fancy seeing you here, doll.” The bright blue eyes belonging to none other than Dabi focused on you, raking their way up and down your body.

“I told you, you can’t come here while I’m working.” You had an image at work. You were a model employee. You thanked your customers with a big smile on your face and hugged the ones who came in looking for flowers to place on a grave. You were a good girl at work, but neither your customers nor your boss have to know what an animal you are outside of work.

“Come on, doll. I just thought I’d stop by and thank you for last night. You snuck out before I could wake up.”

The gentle chime of the doorbell rang again and a young woman sauntered into the store.

“Hi, welcome to In Bloom,” you said. “Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

“Just browsing,” she said with a straight lipped smile.

You looked back over to Dabi. His eyes were trained on the young woman as she browsed the potted succulents, hanging baskets, and flower themed greeting cards at the front. Irritated with his behavior, you leaned over the counter and smacked him upside the head.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked.

“Stop staring at my customers you creep.”

He let out a deep chuckle that made the sandwich you ate for lunch churn in your belly. “Someone’s a little jealous.”

The doorbell rang again. Looking up, you saw that the young woman from earlier was turning the corner, and soon she disappeared.

“I am not. I just don’t want you scarring off my customers.” You turned around and pretended to fiddle with a flower arrangement on the table behind you. All you wanted was for Dabi to leave and for you to get back to work.

“How about this,” his gruff voice echoed. “I’ll stop looking at your customers if you do something for me.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the sly smirk on his face. “I don’t think it’s worth it.” You turned around and hopped onto the table, feeling as though you had the upper hand. “Most of my customers are older men and women. I don’t think you’d wanna hit that.”

He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Well how about this, if you do this one thing for me, I’ll let you decide what we do next time you come over. I’ll even provide the whiskey.”

Now that was interesting. Your cheeks slowly lifted up and you hoped down from the table. “Alright. What is this one simple thing you have in mind?”

His eyes darkened with lust and amusement. “Simple might not be the right way to put it.” He took one of your hands in his and placed a small egg shaped object inside.

Your eyes grew with horror as you realised what it was. “No. I’m not wearing this here.”

He held his hands up as if he was innocent. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But then again, if you don’t I might have to punish you later.” His husky voice drawled out and you felt as though you were melting on the spot.

“Fine,” you said, tucking the vibrator into your pants pocket. “But you don’t get to watch as I put it on.”

He smiled. “Fine by me. I know that I’m gonna be the one to pull it out later tonight, anyway.”

Your stomach sunk as you walked into the employees bathroom. You pulled your pants down and sat on the toilet. The vibrator was small, the perfect size to fit in your panties. It was pink silicone. Head spinning, you placed it against your clitoris and pulled your black panties up. It felt snug against you. It wasn’t out of place or anything. You pulled your pants up, washed your hands and left, ready to feel the smug look on Dabi’s face.

By the time you left the bathroom, he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn’t have gone home. He was too full of himself to bale on a plan to sexually humiliate you like this one. Perhaps he was in the break room, waiting for your next customer to walk through the door. Not being able to see him made you even more nervous.

The doorbell jingled and you gave a small shriek out of shock. “Hi. Welcome to In Bloom. Is there anything I can help you find?” Your voice raised an octave purely out of anxiety.

The older woman inside the store turned to look at you. “I called earlier,” she said. “About the orchids for my daughter’s wedding.”

Your face lit up at remembering the conversation. “Of course! I have a selection for you to choose from in the back. I’ll get them right awa–” You felt it. A soft vibration pressing against the most sensitive area on your body. It was gentle, sweet. Dabi was clearly letting you warm up to the sensation.

“Are you alright?”

You looked at the woman. “Oh. Sorry. I, uh, thought I had to sneeze,” you lied. “Let me grab those samples from the back room.”

As you entered the break room, you found Dabi digging through the contents of the fridge. “Why don’t you have anything good in here,” he asked. You noticed the remote to the vibrator was in his hands. He pressed one of the buttons and the vibrations stopped.

“Because I work with old women who don’t torture me in the middle of my shift.” You crossed your arms and leaned against the door frame.

“Babe if you think this is torture then you’ve really got something coming.” His smirk grew upward as he closed the fridge and stalked towards you.

You began to grow hot, your face growing flush as you fanned yourself with your hands. Since when did the AC stop working in this room?

“Am I making you nervous?” he asked, picking your chin up with two fingers and wrapping his arm around your lower back. “Getting you all tongue tied.”

Your lips parted. You wanted to say something but you couldn’t think when his scent of whiskey and smoke was looming over you. You leaned in, trying to capture his lips with your own. You felt the teasing sensation of his lips ghosting over yours, but as you tried to complete the kiss you were taken out of your thoughts, this time with more vigorous vibrations than the last.

Dabi snickered at the pained expression on your face. “Don’t you have a customer you should be tending to?” he asked. “Shame on you for kissing boys instead of doing your job.”

You reached for your panties to take the vibrator out.

“Ah ah ah,” Dabi teased. “Remember what I said? You wouldn’t want to be punished later, would you?”

You clenched your hand into a fist. Only another hour until closing. You grabbed the orchids from the table and went back out to help your customer.

As you spoke to her, the vibrations would not let up. When you would get used to the sensations, Dabi would turn them up a notch. You weren’t sure how much more your poor clit could take.

“Are you sure you aren’t feeling sick?” the woman asked when she noticed you were hunched over the counter.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing her concern away. “Now what are you thinking, the moth orchids or the boat orchids?”

“I think I’ll place an order for the moth orchids.”

The vibrations stopped and you smiled. “Excellent choice.” You grabbed the paperwork for large events out from under the counter and helped her fill it out.

She thanked you and you watched her leave. As soon as she turned the corner, you flipped the open sign around and marched your way into the break room.

“That’s quite a show you put on for me tonight, doll face.” Dabi was lounging back in a folding chair pulled out from under the table. “Let’s say we go back to my place and I give you the treat I promised ya.”

You crossed your arms and smirked. “Or you can come with me and fuck me behind the register. I closed up shop so no one would know.”

Dabi flashed his white teeth as his eyes narrowed in on you, eating up the confident look on your face. “Then why don’t you get back out there and bend over that counter for me? I bet you’re already nice and wet.”

You stuck your hand out for him to take, and soon the two of you were snickering like school girls as you turned the lights off and he turned the vibrator back on.

#bnhabookclub #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #Dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha dabi

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the-mighty-jellybean · 4 years

Text

Fallen From Grace

A/N: Hi this is my first time writing anything like a/b/o dynamic stuff, so be kind, I’ve been reading a lot lately and I’m quite liking it. I’m hoping to make this a series, just gonna test the waters and see how this goes.

Series Summary: Before the incident she was one of the most powerful Alphas on the Avengers team; admired, idolised and possibly feared, nothing could stand in her way. However, after a mission goes terribly wrong, and she is brutally attacked, the injuries she sustains take all of her Alpha strength, reducing her status to a weakened Omega. By the way of nature, the team can’t help but treat her in a completely new way. Especially her two closets friends, who now see her in a whole new light.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Warning: a/b/o dynamics (and the fun stuff that comes with that!), strong language, sexual content (smut is coming much later, and there will be added warnings on those chapters), fluff, angst, manipulation, corporal punishment (18+ only readers)

Part One// Part Two// Part Three// Part Four// Part Five// Part Six//Part Seven// Part Eight// Part Nine// Part Ten// Part Eleven// Part Twelve// Part Thirteen// Part Fourteen// Part Fifteen//

Part Sixteen: Mission Complete

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language

Word Count: 3.5K

“Why do you have to go?” you had your arms and legs wrapped around one of Steve’s legs, as he and Bucky packed. They had just been called out on a mission, and you were not happy about it.

“It’s only gonna be a few days, sweetheart.” Bucky sighed as he tried to pull you from Steve’s leg.

“But I don't want you to go, I want you to stay here with me.” you whined, squeezing even tighter on Steve’s legs.

“Come on, baby. Be a good girl for us. Don’t make us punish you, just before we leave.” Steve warned you, pulling you up by your armpits, and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I want you to stay.” you pout, looking deep into his blue eyes, you can tell he doesn't want to leave either, but he has no choice.

“We’ll be home soon, pretty girl. Then we can get back to our real mission.” Bucky smirked at you, as he watched your cheeks grow hot.

You had been having sex 24/7, both super soldiers desperate to get you pregnant with their pups. You had come round to the idea of being a mother, when you saw how much your Alphas wanted to have pups, it made you adore them even more, the only thing you wanted to do was please them, and if that meant having their pups, then that was what you were going to do.

~~~~~

“How long has it been?” you groaned, your feet hanging in the air, as you sat upside down, on the large couch in the screening room.

“Two days, four hours, 23 minutes and...27 seconds.” Wanda said checking her watch, as she mirrored your position on the couch next to you.

“I want my Alphas.” your bottom lip jutting out.

“Me too. Well I don't want your Alphas, I want mine.” she corrects herself.

“Why do they have to go away for so long. All I want to do is...is someone cooking onions?” you pause, propping yourself up on your elbows, looking towards the door, your nose following the scent.

“I can’t smell anything.” Wanda looks at you confused.

“No, someone is definitely cooking something oniony.” you say, swinging yourself so you’re now sitting the right way up.

“How can you tell, we’re three floors below the kitchen?” Wanda matching your upright position.

“Can’t you smell that it. My God, it’s making the whole place wreak.” you cover your nose and mouth with your sleeve, making a make shift mask.

“FRIDAY, is there anyone in the kitchen?” Wanda asks

“Yes, Colonel Rhodes, and Mr Parker.” FRIDAY responded, promptly.

“Call in to the kitchen.”

“Dialling in now.”

There was brief sound of dialling, before you could hear the sound of Rhodey and Peter talking to one another.

“Hey, what’s up.” you hear Peter’s cheery voice, ring through the speakers of the Screening Room.

“Hey you guys cooking something?” Wanda asked.

“No, we’re just staring at the food, hoping it’s gonna cook itself.” Rhodey sarcastic tone, fills your ears.

“Very funny.” you shout through your sleeve, “has it got a shit ton of onions in it?”

There was a brief silence, and the distant sound of banging of pots, and cupboard doors closing.

“Not a lot, literally like half a bulb.” Rhosdey reasoned.

“Well, you’re stinking the whole compound out.” You shouted, the smell of the onions only getting worse, making you gag.

“Dude where are you?” you hear Peter ask.

“Miss Y/L/N, and Miss Maximoff, are in the Screening Room.” FRIDAY answered on your behalf.

“Bro, that’s like fifty levels away.” you hear Peter over-exaggerate.

“Yeah well, open a window, I can smell it. FRIDAY, end the call.” There was a sound of a phone being put down. You huff trying to block your nose as best you could.

“Come on let’s go for a walk, it’s nice out.”

You nod, the thought of the fresh air, and being far away from that smell, suited you perfectly.

~~~~~~

“Can we sit down a second.” you gasp, a little breathless, as you crash onto a fallen tree. You had only been walking less than an hour, and your legs were already beginning to ache.

“Um...sure.” Wanda said helping you sit on top of the dead wood, “We’ve only been working a few minutes. Are you feeling okay?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just so exhausted all the time. I thought I’d been getting more sleep, what with Bucky and Steve gone. But I’m still so tired.”

“First off; ew, don’t need to know that much about your sex life. Secondly, do you think you’ve still got an infection from your bites?” She tries to look at your neck, to see if there was any swelling or redness, but it all appeared to be fine.

“No, Steve and Bucky took me to see Dr Cho, before they left. She said I was all clear, and my marks were healing normally now.” You say whilst rubbing Steve’s mark on your neck.

“Then what do you think’s causing this?” Wanda looked at you with her eyes full of concern.

“I don't know, maybe I’ve just got a viral thing. Whatever it is it’ll pass in a few days.”

~~~~~~

A few days passed, and you were only beginning to feel worst. And things weren’t helped, when at 5:30 in the morning you woke, stumbling out of bed, as you hurried yourself to the bathroom, where you proceeded to expel the contents of your stomach, into the toilet.

You groaned when you finally finished heaving into the porcelain bowl, your knees were numb, from where you had been kneeling on the cold, tiled floor. You roll onto your bottom, and prop yourself up against the bath, leaning your head back, giving a silent prayer, to ease your aching stomach.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you want me to call Dr Cho?” you heard FRIDAY, whisper.

“No thank you, FRIDAY. I’ll be okay.” you croaked, you didn’t want anybody to see you like this. You just wanted to go back to bed and curl up into a ball.

You wiped your tear stained cheeks, before heaving yourself up from the bathroom floor. You look at your pale reflection in the mirror, you prod round your face, looking for any signs of obvious ailment, but your face looked nothing out of the ordinary.

You let a heavy sigh fall from your lips, as you take your tooth brush out of the holder. You reach for the toothpaste tube, but let a huff of annoyance leave your mouth, when you discovered that the tube was empty.

“Great.” you puff, slinging the empty tube into the trash, before bending down to look in the cupboard for a new one. Your eyes grazed over the assortment of bathroom supplies; shampoos, conditioners, your eyes catching on the shaving cream, as it made you think of your Alphas, who were so far away. You swallow back the tears, as you are surprised by your sudden wave of emotion.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” you told yourself, becoming flustered with yourself at the idea of getting emotional over shaving cream. You quickly move your stinging eyes away from the bathroom essential, but your heart drops a little when they move onto two other objects.

Your eyes freeze when the land upon your supply of tampons and pads, untouched.

Oh shit. Realisation slowly hitting you, as you pick a packet up, and hold it between your fingers, deep in thought.

Your mind was desperately searching for a date, but it was proving a challenge.

“What’s the matter, baby. Is your tummy hurting?” Steve asked as you curled in on yourself, letting a small whimper escape your lips.

“It hurts, Alpha.” You cry, trying desperately to grab for him, needing nothing more than your Alphas near you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Do you want me to rub your tummy or do you want a hot water bottle?” Bucky asked you, crouching to your level, on the couch.

“Just want you.” you whimper, holding your arms out to them.

Bucky carefully lifted you up, placing you over his lap, cradling you. He placed his warm hand on your stomach, and gently rubbed over it; the movement and the heat soothing on the cramping below it.

Steve disappeared into the kitchen, only to return shortly, with a cup of water, and two tablets in his hand.

“Here, sweetie. Can you sit up a little for Alpha?” he asked you softly. You whined a little when Bucky shuffled you upwards, so that your mouth could meet with Steve’s fingers, as he placed one of the white discs on your tongue. Then gently bringing the cup up to your face, allowing you to drink the tablet down. Before repeating the action for the second pill.

“Good girl. That’ll make you feel better, honey.” Steve said, before placing the glass down on the table, and joining you and Bucky on the couch. He placed his hand on your ankle, and smoothed his thumb over the skin, relaxing you.

“Just think, when you’re carrying our pups, you want have to deal with this for nine, whole months.” Bucky reassured, bumping your noses together.

Although you were still hesitant at the idea. The thought of not dealing with this, for nine, long months; sounded like a dream.

“Oh shit.” you repeat only this time out loud. That dream looked as though it was going to become a harsh reality.

No. No that can’t be the last time. The memory surfacing from four weeks ago. Which meant you were supposed to be due on.

You threw the packet back into the cupboard, grabbing the new toothpaste tube. You slammed the doors, most likely waking the whole compound, quickly brushing your teeth. Rinsing your mouth out, you abandoned your toothbrush on the side, before striding out of the bathroom, and looking in the floor length mirror in your bedroom.

You lifted up your shirt to reveal, your normal stomach, no new lumps and bumps, it looked exactly how you left it.

You place your hands, across your lower abdomen, beginning to poke and jab, feeling around your belly, for any signs of change, but there was no different.

“I can’t be. Not yet.” you defy. Pulling your t-shirt down, you roll back into bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“There’s no way, I am pregnant.” you say out loud, to nobody but yourself, as you were the only one there you had to convince.

~~~~

“You need to take a test.” That was the only piece of advice Wanda gave you, when you went to find her to seek consolidation.

“No I don't, because it can’t be right.” you disregard, your eyes not meeting hers, as you played with the draw strings on Steve’s hoodie, which you had stolen. You needed your Alphas’ scents more than ever now.

“You’ll never know, unless you take a test.” She presses once more.

“No.” you respond flatly

“Y/N, you can’t just bury your head in the sand. This is serious.” She tried to reason with you, but you didn’t respond, only twisting the strings round your fingers.

“If you don't take a test, I’m calling Steve and Bucky.” you head snapped up at the sound of your Alphas’ names.

“You can’t do that.” you accuse, dropping the strings, and glaring at her.

“Wanna bet?” she threatens, arching her eyebrow.

“You can’t tell them, they’ll fly home. And as much as I want that, they need to finish their mission, you know what they’re like, if they don’t complete their mission.” you remind Wanda, she sighs knowing what you’re saying is true.

“Y/N, you’re leaving me with no choice.” Wanda sighs.

“But I can’t be pregnant.”

“Okay, so say by some miracle you aren't pregnant. How do you explain; throwing up every morning, feeling nauseous whenever anyone cooks anything, and you can’t walk longer than 10 minutes, without needing to take a break? Huh, how do you explain that.” Wanda lists.

“I don't know.” you mumble.

“What was that?” She cups her ear, pretending to have misheard.

“I. Don’t. Know.” you repeat slowly, with a large amount of sarcasm, accenting your words.

“That settles it then. I’m gonna get you a test.” Before you have a chance to object, Wanda has sprung off the couch, and left you to wallow in your own worry.

~~~~

“So, what am I meant to do?” you say looking at the packaging like it is written in some sort of foreign dialect.

“You just pee on this end, then it says we wait three minutes for us to tell us the result.” Wanda says, taking the box from you, and actually reading the instructions.

She hands you the stick, and arch an eyebrow at the peculiar, space age. looking stick, that you twiddle around your fingers.

She leaves you in the bathroom, promising you she’ll be just outside the door.

You take a big deep breath, before you go and take a seat on the toilet, and begin to take the test.

Once you’re finished, you place the lid on the test, and wash your hands, before telling Wanda she can come back in. She starts a timer, and you both sit, waiting anxiously for the answer. Wanda’s sat in the bathtub, whilst you sit on the toilet seat with your head in your hands.

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. Just think how happy Steve and Bucky are gonna be.” Wanda tried to convince you. That’s all you were thinking about, because that was the only thing stopping you from spontaneously combusting, with anxiety.

“I know. They’ve both wanted this for so long. But what if I’m not a good mom?” you say through your fingers, as this was turning into the longest three minutes of your entire existence.

“Y/N, you’re gonna be an amazing mommy.” Wanda, stands up from her sitting place in the tub, and crouches down laying her hands over, the ones pressed tightly against your face.

“But what if the baby comes out, and it looks like Steve or Bucky, and they feel left out, or don't love the baby as much, because they’ll have that constant doubt that they aren't the father?” you ramble, curse your damn hormones, your eyes stinging with tears.

“You know that Steve and Bucky would never do that, Y/N. They love you too much. They’ll just be over the moon, that you’ve given them a pup.”

The timer on Wanda’s phone begins to chime, and your heart start to pound, a mile a dozen. Wanda takes you hands, and make you take a deep breath together, before she reaches the stick, she holds it out to you, you take it from her but close your eyes, squeezing them tightly.

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/N.”

Those are the final words, Wanda says to you before you open your eyes, gazing down at the small, white stick in your hands. They begin to shake, as you read over the word, written on the small screen.

Pregnant

“What does it say?” Wanda’s voice breaks through the ringing in your ears, and you can do nothing, but pass her the test. She takes it from you, and she drops her gaze from your eyes, to the tiny window.

“It says I’m pregnant.” you say, when she doesn't say anything.

“Oh my God, Y/N. Congratulations.” she shrieks throwing her arms around you. You just let her hang off you, as your whole body goes numb.

Pregnant.

You were actually carrying a small bit of you and Steve or Bucky, inside of you. Your Omegaself, warms from the thought. You had done it, you had actually achieved your purpose as an Omega. You were finally complete on your Omega journey.

~~~~~~

You had butterflies in your stomach, Bucky and Steve were coming home today, and you were gonna finally get to tell them, what you had been up to.

You had done a second test, and bought two, small boxes to put them in, decorating them both with a bow. You placed them on the bed before heading outside.

You stood on the landing strip, along with Wanda, and Peter, all three of you were bouncing on the heels of your feet, your Alphas only a few moments away.

The jet coming into sight, made your heart skip a beat, the thought of telling your Alphas that you were going to give them everything, they had ever wished for.

Finally the wheels touched down, and like Wanda and Peter, you took off running towards the opening doors. Wanda was the first to be swept off her feet, as Vision came soaring out of the sky, and landing on the tarmac, before embracing Wanda the moment her little legs, carried her to him.

Then Peter shot a web, pulling himself closer to the jet, pushing past, Sam and Clint, to reach his beloved Alpha. Then finally you saw them, the sight of which made your pace pick up, before you were launching yourself into Bucky’s arms. He caught you easily and brought into his chest, as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Hi, baby girl. You miss us?” He says, sprinkling your face with little kisses. You can't hold your emotions together, as you burst into tears, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, whilst letting a very watery ‘yes’ escape your trembling lips.

“Oh baby, we’re home now. Don't cry, sweetheart.” You felt Steve’s arms wrap around the both of you, you hum in content, the feeling of both your Alphas’ strong arms, holding you close.

“I’m sorry, Alpha. I just missed you so much.” you blubbered, Bucky pushing your head further into his neck, so you could be closer to his scent gland, hoping to help sooth you.

“It’s alright, darlin. We’re home now. We’re not gonna leave you that long again.” Steve whispers into your ear, running his hand up and down your back.

“Come on, let’s get you in side. It’s cold out here, I can feel it on your nose.” Bucky chuckles, as you all began to make your way inside.

Steve practically kicks the door down, as he and Bucky hurry you into your room, Bucky already kissing your neck, covering you in his scent.

“Oh honey, we’ve missed you so much. But we’re back now, time to get back to the real mission at hand.” he speaks, in-between kisses. In all the passion, you got caught up in, you forgot about the two small boxes, laying on the bed, until Bucky through you onto it, making them bounce into the air.

“Wait.” you try to pause Bucky and Steve in their movements, but they’re desperately trying to remove their belts, as fast as possible.

“We’ve been waiting nearly a week, baby. I need to put this knot to good use.” Steve growls, but you manage to push him off of you, and grab the rectangular boxes and hold it out to them.

“Presents later, sweetheart. You’re all that we want right now.” Bucky, grabs the boxes from you hands, and places them on the bedside table.

“But you’ve already put your knots to good use.” they halt in their actions, and stand over you looking at you with great confusion. You get up from the bed, and grab the boxes, the two Alphas sit at the edge of the bed.

“These are for you.” you say handing them to the two men, who still looked utterly bewildered.

They take them from you, before undoing the bows, and popping the lids in sync. Bucky drops his head, hand covering his eyes, as his shoulders begin to shake.

You begin to feel worried, when he lets a loud sob escape his lips.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked.

“Far from it, my beautiful, little Omega.” he chokes through his cries, he grabs hold of you, pulling you as tightly as possible. Steve was yet to react, he just sat and stared at the little test in his hand.

“I’m so proud of you, my baby girl.” Bucky kisses you all over your face, making you giggle.

“Is this real, Y/N. Like really real?” Steve asks you in disbelief.

“Of course, my Alpha. I would never joke about this.” you assured him, resting your hand on his cheek.

“I love you, my Omega.” he says with a water grin, as his eyes begin to swell with tears.

“I love you too, Alpha. Both my Alphas.” you kissed them both on the lips, Bucky pulling you backwards, you grab hold of Steve, pulling him with you.

“You’re amazing, little one. Did you do this all by yourself?” Steve asked, twiddling the test in his hands.

“Well you helped.” You giggle, causing both of them to chuckle.

“No I mean finding out. Did you have to do it on your own?” his voice had a hint of sadness, the thought of you going through this all by yourself, made him feel guilty.

“No, Alpha. Wanda was with me.”

“You should have told us, sweetheart. We would have come home sooner.” Bucky said, pushing hair out of your face.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise.” you smiled. You grabbed your Alphas’ hands, and pulled your shirt up, placing their warm palms on top of your stomach.

They both rubbed gently, face splitting grins stretched across their cheeks. You laid their content in the arms of your Alphas.

In the arms of your little family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Sorry that I didn’t post this yesterday, but I was having a great day celebrating VE Day with my family.

However, this unfortunately concludes: Fallen From Grace. I’ve absolutely loved writing this story, and I’ve been overwhelmed by the response from all of you. I have got some ideas for a sequel, and I’ll begin production on that very soon...so watch this space.

xxx

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@mikariell95 @sexyvixen7 @booboobella01 @rororo06 @vickstaahh @krazykatkay456 @winchester-wifey @nightlygiggles @coonflix

#alpha!steve #alpha!bucky #reader insert #omega!reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve fic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #marvel fanfiction #a/b/o dynamics #avengers a/b/o #stucky x reader #stucky

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