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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

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what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #wtfgu

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delta-pavonis · 3 months

Note

'allo! may i have a bit of Friend Like Me? ;)

Absolutely! I have posted some of this before, but once again Tumblr's search function is failing me and apparently I can't organize my own tags for shit so... This is Matthew + Hob used to be partners in crime (literally) and Hob may or may not have started the crew from Leverage. 😂

100% G-rated fluff over here.

Hob has to do this every few decades otherwise he would be up to his eyeballs in storage units. It isn't fun, but neither is having too many moving parts to keep track of and potentially getting caught by another asshat with a hard-on for immortality.

What was that quote he had read? "No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style."

Not to mention the myriad other enemies he had accumulated via his network of grifters, hitters, and hackers.

(What? The current state of technological advancements meant that Hob needed to get better at tracking and erasing his digital presence back in the late nineties. Was it his fault that while he was living in the States he had accidentally amassed a highly skilled group of "criminals" who were all connected to him like spokes to the hub on a carriage wheel? And that it turned out that they were, as a team, really great at liberating funds and removing items from billionaire idiots who didn't need a fraction of their accumulated wealth and power? That they did it so well that Hob had to fake his own death earlier than expected to get out from under a particularly angry arms dealer? Was that really all because of him?)

(Yes. Yes it was.)

Yeah, anyway, Hob didn't leave the house without at least one blade on his person anymore.

This is why, when Hob is interrupted by a large black mass swerving into his storage unit through the crack in the door that should be far too small to admit such a creature, he pulls the nearest throwing knife (he was crouching, so he went for the one concealed in a sheath on the outside ankle of his black leather chelseas), clocks the intruder's movement in his peripheral vision, and wings it directly at them. It hits the wall with a satisfying kthud, which is promptly followed by a very avian squawking.

"FUCKING CAWCHRIST MY DUDE WAS THAT A KNIFE!?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, THE IDES OF FUCKING MARCH?!"

That voice! Hob's head snaps up to see a sizable black bird falling in a tumble. It hits the concrete floor with a sound not unlike a briefcase hitting pavement from a story up (what? It is a very distinctive sound), leaving three large feathers tacked into the wall by the knife.

"Fuck me sideways that HURTS. Note to self, birds no likey losing butt feathers." The bird (A raven? Like this is the bloody Tower of London?) walks out from around a cardboard box with a bit of a waddle in its step, trying to look back at his tail while he moves. "I guess the Boss didn't tell you I was coming then?"

Hob sits back on his heels. That voice is still hauntingly familiar. But he would damned well remember meeting a talking bird. "Well, perhaps if you told me who your Boss is..."

The raven leaps a solid four feet into the air with a screech. He lands on top of a small writing desk, scrabbles against the smooth surface to balance himself, and then looks down at Hob with one glass-black eye. "I can't believe... no fucking way... Robbie? Is that you? Didn't you die in 2017?"

"Mattie?!" Hob's ass hits the cool floor as he is blown back by the revelation. "Didn't you die in 2020?"

Matthew Cable had been one of Hob's favorite grifters. Not because he was absolutely perfect at his job (oh no, Mattie had fucked up spectacularly more times then Hob’s blood pressure wants to recall), but because they had quickly become "let's get absolutely toasted and MST3K bad horror movies while we bitch about our love lives" buddies. Hob had missed Mattie immediately upon his own faked death and had mourned when he heard, through various channels he still kept an ear to, that Mattie had died in his sleep not too long ago.

"Yeah, but when I died I was given, like, a choice? Apparently the King of Dreams needed a new Raven and I decided to give it a go. Sounded much more interesting to work for him than actual death. There must be some mistake because I was sent here with a message for Hhh..." Mattie freezes.

"Dream sent you?" Hob tilts his head in interest. This was the Matthew he had often mentioned? A raven that carried his messages? Hob had been jealous over a bird?! (Oh Christ, how embarrassing.)

"Wait... what the fuck are you doing in Hob GaaaaAAHHHH!" Mattie the Raven starts hopping around frantically. "YOU ARE NOT JUST IN HOB GADLING'S STORAGE UNIT. YOU ARE HOB GADLING! FRIEND OF THE LORD MORPHEUS, KING OF DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES!"

Hob can't help his laughter. "Oh, he told you I was his friend, did he?" That Dream had called him friend to someone else shouldn't feel as good as it did. Hob tamps that useless bit of emotion down hard. (No good can come of that, better to put it away.) "Only took him six centuries to get there, stubborn wanker that he is." He fails to keep the fondness from his voice.

"Christ you have no idea how much of a wanker sometimes..." Mattie shuffles his feathers. "Look, I gotta know the story here, man. How did you meet the King of Dreams?"

Hob stands, brushing off his jeans. "That... is a rather long story." He considers for a minute, barely that, rubbing at the back of his neck, before coming to a decision. "Look, it isn't like I get my close friends back from the dead every day... how about we head back to my flat, pull up something ridiculous like Slenderman, and I will fill you in on my story? Like old times?"

Mattie flaps over and lands on Hob's shoulder. "Hells to the yes. Especially if we can find out if ravens respond to THC. Shit, you ever get more of that Amnesia shit the team picked up in Amsterdam during that art heist job?"

Hob's belly laugh echoes in the small room. "I think I still have some squirreled away from my last trip to the continent."

He locks the storage unit behind them. All the spring cleaning can happen another day.

___________________________________

They did not, upon making it back to Hob’s flat above The New Inn, actually end up watching their intended horror movie. Instead, as they were flipping through options, they stumbled upon the live-action remake of Aladdin and Mattie had been so damned adamant that he wanted to see it while high that Hob had allowed the deviation from their established pattern.

“That bird is a fucking useless sidekick. I will show you how to do it!” Matthew stands, wobbles, and falls off where he had been balanced on the arm of Hob’s couch.

Hob cackles, slouching back into the cushions. “Well, that’s your answer to the question about birds and THC, innit?”

Matthew flapped his way up onto the space next to Hob. “Hey, I am still getting used to this stupid body without any fucking thumbs.”

“Fair enough.” He shrugs, sinking even further back and letting the movie drift into the background, a gentle blanket of familiar songs. “So I can feel you trying to not ask questions. Ask away, Mattie. I owe you that much, at least.”

“Fucking right you do, faking your death like that caw.” The raven shakes his head. “Where even to start… Oh! I got it! When and how did you meet the King of Dreams and Nightmares? That must have been a trip and a half.”

The memory makes Hob even warmer and he feels himself grinning as he looks at the ceiling. “I was drinking with my pals at a tavern, the White Horse, in the year of our lord thirteen hundred and eighty nine…”

“Wait. The fuck? You are…” Mattie clearly stops to count for a blink, “almost seven hundred years old?”

“That I am, now let me finish… I rather loudly proclaimed that I had decided not to die. Just wasn’t going to fucking do it. And that was when he approached the table,” Hob closes his eyes, the swooping feeling of seeing Dream for the first time still razor sharp in his memory. Should he tell Mattie? Well, he had never been dishonest with the man before, no reason to start now. So Hob let all his emotional walls down. “And I swear to God, Mattie, it was like seeing a meteor shower for the first time. It was like discovering a second moon. I was absolutely dumbstruck by the beauty of this cocky young Lordling, all standing before me like he owned half the country. Looked it too, with that giant fucking ruby around his neck and his fine clothing.” Hob shakes his head, grin widening. “He offered me a deal. If I wanted unending life, then I could come back to that tavern on the same day at the same time one hundred years hence and tell him of my experiences of life so long-lasting. And here I am.” When Mattie doesn't immediately respond, Hob opens his eyes and turns his head. “What?”

The raven was studying him intently. When he spoke it was carefully metered and very much not in jest. “Robbie. I might be a bird now, but I would know that expression on your face anywhere. Do you… Are you…”

He didn’t need to put words to it, Hob knew exactly what his friend meant. He shrugged. “Aye, I probably am. But you have to understand, Mattie, he has been the only constant in my whole long life. Hundreds of relationships. Thousands of friendships. Centuries of life. And he was my only anchor.” Hob lets himself drift on that thought for a moment before coming back. “Did you know that I didn’t know his name until a few months ago when he showed up at the New Inn?”

“What?! What kind of asshole doesn’t give his – oh, wait, this is Dream I am talking about, isn’t it…”

Hob laughs. “You are very correct. Dream’s stubbornness is only surpassed by his beauty.”

“Wow. You’ve got it bad.”

“Most likely.” Hob inclines his head. “But I am happy with whatever type of relationship he is capable of with me."

The raven whistles. "Got it baaaad."

____________________________

And so it happens that Hob and Mattie are stonedly bickering over if Will Smith’s portrayal of the Genie was a good homage or a bad mockery (all while A Whole New World starts up in the background) when the King of Dreams and Nightmares steps out of nothingness and into Hob’s living room.

“Matthew! You were told to deliver a message, not spend an entire day-”

Hob cuts Dream off with an overdramatic, “OoooOOOOoooh, Mattie, you are in trooooouble.” Dream’s stern face snaps to Hob’s and he slaps a hand over his mouth while he giggles none-too-loudly, “OooooOOOh, now I am in trooooouble.”

That makes Mattie burst into giggles and let it be known that the giggle of a raven is not actually a pleasant sound to take in.

So it makes Hob laugh harder.

Then he sees Dream’s absolutely bewildered expression.

And that makes Hob laugh even harder.

Sobbing as he laughs, collapsed to the floor (having initially fallen clear off the couch in surprise at Dream’s entrance), clutching his belly, Hob can’t even bring himself to worry that Dream might actually be angry with him. Fuck, Hob just got Mattie back. This is fucking great.

Hob wipes at his face as his hysterics subside, trying to keep his voice steady as he addresses Dream from his place on the floor. “I’m sorry, m’love, I didn’t mean to patronize you, I just-” He cuts himself off when he sees, for the first time, a petal-pink blush color his Stranger’s cheeks.

“You called him your love!” Mattie cackles. Hob feels himself blush now, too. That was a slip. That shouldn’t have happened. (Ah, bollocks.) “You are so in for it now. The Boss hates pet names! Once I tried to call him Lord Mew-mew because he was acting like a wet fucking cat and-”

“Enough.” Dream waves his hand to his Raven and the bird is immediately silenced. “Matthew, leave us. I am not asking.”

“Aww, maannn.” Mattie shakes himself off and seems to become shockingly sober with just a ruffle of feathers. “Roger that, Boss. See you back at home.” Then he nods to Hob. “We should do this again sometime.”

Before Hob can respond Mattie has taken wing and flown out a window that definitely was not open a moment ago. When he looks back up it is to have Dream’s hand in front of his face, gently offering to help him stand. Hob takes it, if only for the excuse to touch his Stranger’s skin for the first time. (His touch is cool, his fingers long and uncalloused, his skin smooth. Hob memorizes every sensation greedily.)

Dream seems to realize this once Hob is on his feet because the blush deepens slightly and he retracts his hand with a jerky motion.

“I am sorry if I offended you, Dream.” Hob takes a step to the side and tries to catch his friend’s eye. Dream keeps purposefully looking away. “It is just a silly human endearment. I am rather high on some excellent weed and I didn’t mean-”

“Ah.” Dream interrupts and Hob’s jaw clicks shut. Dream is still not looking at him and so Hob can see the way the muscles in his jaw flex with tension. “Just a silly endearment. You did not mean it.”

Something fiery swoops inside Hob. Dream has never acted like this. Never avoided Hob’s eyes. Never interrupted him. And all because Hob had accidentally called him love.

See, thing is, Hob does mean it. More than he has words for. But never did he think… Dream couldn’t possibly. Fuck. Hob is too high to think clearly about this.

Hob steps into Dream’s line of sight, forces the slightly taller anthropomorphic personification to meet his eyes. Why it comes out a whisper when Hob speaks he will never know. “Dream. Do you want me to mean it? Do you want me to call you,” he hesitates for a moment because this could ruin everything. (But look at him! Look at the hurt in his expression, the tension in his shoulders. He does not hide it well, now that Hob knows what to look for - thanks, Sophie.) “my love?”

It is answer enough to see Dream’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

He is shaking when he goes to take Dream’s hand, brings it up to press a kiss to those beautiful fingers. “If I am reading this wrong then please please let’s just chalk it up to the THC and pretend this never happened. But…” Hob takes the last step in and now they are almost chest-to-chest, “I thought you would have figured it out after 1689… you are my guiding star. It is you who I wait decades for. You who I hope to impress with my experiences. You who I have yearned to touch with every fiber of my being for literal centuries.” Dream is blinking wide eyes at him now, confusion and surprise and hope all written there. “And if your friendship is all I can have, then so be it. But, Dream. If I had three wishes I would spend them all just to be able to call you love.”

#Pavonis writes #Dreamling #Leverage AU

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midnightsnyx · 8 months

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Hi I had an imagine idea for any hockey player as a boyfriend (I'm indecisive if you can't tell lol) but what about a scenario where reader's watching her boyfriend's hockey game, and while she cheers for him there's a group of girls nearby who hate on her? Like what if everyone knows that the hockey player and reader are dating and there are a few fans that aren't really happy with the reader and a couple of those people happen to be sitting near her at the game?

The rest is up to you, happy writing :P

hi ty for the request❤️ i picked jack hughes i hope you like it!! <3 also sorry it’s kind of angsty and short & definitely not edited cause i’m 99% asleep rn😂

you loved supporting jack at his games, it was one of your favorite things to do. however, you didn’t like the attention you received sometimes especially considering it was almost always bad.

yeah you get it, jack is good looking (too much for his own good sometimes) and he’s a professional hockey player so there are a lot of girls who like him but even though they know he’s taken, they will still throw themselves at him. and they will say awful stuff about you sometimes. anytime either of you post something on instagram, you have to disable the comments.

you’re still as supportive as you can be and that includes attending as many games as you can so you decide to surprise him tonight by showing up at a home game. you’d originally told him you were unable to make it which was true but when your boss let you go home early, you decided to surprise him instead of going home and watching the game on the tv.

it was too late to get a decent seat and you still weren’t quite comfortable enough to go to the wives lounge. the other girls were absolutely wonderful and supportive but you were still warming up to them and didn’t feel like you should be there yet.

the downside to getting a crappy seat though was that there were sometimes people around who weren’t exactly nice. you were wishing you had either gotten a suite or decided to just go to the wives lounge when a group a girls start whispering about you. it’s clear that they want you to hear them and as much as you try to tune them out, it’s hard.

by the end of the game, your self confidence is pretty low and you just want to go home and crawl in bed but jack noticed that you were here so you had to go meet him at the locker room doors. when he comes out, all smiles due to their win, he notices your mood right away.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, wrapping his arms around you. you bury your face in his neck, hoping that he doesn’t notice the tears.

you just shrug, looking at the ground when you pull away.

“i think i’ll just go back to my place tonight.”

you don’t have to look to see the disappointment on his face. you’d promised you would spend the night at his place and the two of you were looking forward to it.

“they’re wrong, you know,” he says and of course he knows what’s wrong.

“i know jack,” you mutter. “it’s just hard to ignore sometimes.”

you don’t give him a chance to reply, turning on your heel and leaving quickly. a warm bath and your bed sounds like heaven right about now.

but you only get as far as your car before a hand gently wraps around your wrist and you know it’s jack. he tugs you into another hug, not letting you escape this time. not that you want to now.

“i won’t say i understand how it feels, baby,” he whispers in your hair. “but i don’t give a shit what any of them say.” there’s a pause and then he pulls away only far enough to be able to look you in the eyes.

“i love you.”

those three little words that weigh so much haven’t been said between the two of you. you always show your love in other ways and you were okay with that but hearing it, hearing him say them out loud, heals something inside you.

“yeah?” you ask quietly and he chuckles softly.

“yeah.” his head tilts to the side slightly. “you know, i was kind of hoping you’d-”

you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“i love you too.”

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #allie answers #hockey imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fluff

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bcacstuff · 4 months

Text

So, after quite a bit of convo between different people and a bit of investigating I got some news about this last weeks revelations.

Let's first resume what we learned this week!

First Davie posted a pic with Sam in his kitchen at home on Wednesday 3 January still in Scotland

Next day Thursday January 4th, a fan pic is posted from a boat.

The fan confirms she saw Sam on the Shuttle boat in London, she got on the boat at London Eye, he was already on the boat and he got of the boat at Greenwich. She also said he was with a friend (female). Someone had a private convo with this lady and she confirmed these things practically. She mostly said he was low profile and very discrete.

Of course I got all kind of Anons, is he on a date and others trying to make me believe the craziest things again, naming people. You really gotta up your games Anons, if you want me to believe he's with someone who posted a picture of a gondola in Venice at sunset, while he is on a shitty shuttle in rainy and cold London, you're far of convincing anybody here. 😂

Anyway, lots of speculation, why is he going to Greenwich and who could be the friend.... 🤷‍♀️ My guess is as good as yours, though one or two options could be plausible. Like f.i. his friend Matt lives in Greenwich, and f.i he could be doing a photoshoot, like he did a couple of times for magazines like Men's Journal or similar. Anyway, we don't know.

But, then we get the hair cut pic of Charley at FOUR in London. It was posted on Saturday 6 January

Was it a latergram? Or not? Well I can answer that and confirm t was slightly a latergram. The haircut was at the least before Friday night! And as we can see the boat pic he still had the longer hair. (well you can argue about that and make up your own mind, IDC) Most likely it was done on Thursday the same day as the boat pic, same shirt.

And doing a hair cut for a photoshoot also makes sense, now doesn't it?

Then last night (Saturday as well) we found a tweet he was named in. Someone had met him twice in 2 days. Ah, well it was just a tweet but, okay. In the same tweet Callum Beattie was named.

Bit of investigating here another convo took place between people. It was all shared to me and I saw it all. I don't want to share their names, as I don't want these people to be bothered in DMs or anyway. But I saw the whole convo. It was a a very sweet convo and the person was quite willing to share a lot.

It confirms that the person who saw Sam twice in 2 days as reported in the tweet, saw him on Thursday 4 and Friday 5th January in London. Both times he was alone according to this person. It's asked a number of times and confirmed both times alone and in West end London, which makes sense as that's the area he often goes when in London.

Anyway, you all not gonna believe me on. my blue eyes, I figure. And even while I am not gonna share the convo obviously, I have permission to share the picture the person took with Sam on Friday. (yes I'm gonna watermark, as I only have it and I'm blurring the name. It's on a private account anyway, so can not be found there. But I have permission to post it on here.)

So after the person saw him on Thursday but was too late to get a pic, he saw him on Friday again and now managed to get the picture. As you also can see (I tried to keep the watermark as transparent as possible), he then clearly had his hair cut already.

So that's it, and that's all I can share. I just really need to thank the ones that had the convo's and shared it all with me. You are all incredible people to do it and all so graciously! If anyone wants to accuse them of stalking or harassing or bothering someone, I can confirm, totally not. The convo's I've seen are very nice and sweet! Thank you all, you know who you are and told me you don't want to be named, but you know I'm very thankful for it. 🧡🧡🧡

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julianalvarez9 · 11 months

Text

national kai day / kai havertz

summary: you're not very active on social media -at least, on your public profile. so, the post you dedicate to your boyfriend on every birthday of his, seems to turn the day into a national holiday for fans.

author's note: wanted to do sum for kai's birthday, sorry it's too late 😮‍💨 it's still his birthday where i am so happy birthday to himmm 🤍

yourusername

Liked by benchilwell, kaihavertz29 and others.

yourusername i'm not very much into public demonstrations of affection, you already know me well enough, and that's part of what makes you so special: you take me as i am. i love you liebling, happy birthday. you know who you are.

Comments are restricted under this post.

kaihavertz29 🤍

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jun 11, 2020.

yourusername

Liked by kaihavertz29, kepaarrizabalaga and others.

yourusername with every year that passes, i feel it's only right of me to share a bit of you to the world. the part they don't know about you, not the one they see every weekend on the pitch. still, words couldn't even begin to describe how special you are. i love you, k.

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kepaarrizabalaga los adoro ❤️ (i adore you two)

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user1 i knowwww we don't know much about her but she seems so sweet 😭

user2 FRRRR and i had this idea of kai being like so serious but every year she posts something for his birthday it's always the cutest pics 😭

user3 grumpy x sunshine trope going so hard with these two

kaihavertz29 hate being far away today. i will make it up to you, schatz.

yourusername we'll see each other so soon. you don't have to do anything 🤍 the pups and i are gonna be happy just by seeing you again.

masonmount a man of many talents 🎹

kaihavertz29 thought you already knew me

jun 11, 2021.

yourusername

Liked by kaihavertz29, masonmount and others.

yourusername holding your hand forever. or until you get tired of me fiddling with your rings during the fancy events. i love you, k 🤍 happy birthday to the sweetest man on this planet.

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user1 never seen kai smile that way before 🥹

user2 they're literally the cutest couple ever

masonmount he never holds my hand like that 🙁 happiest of birthdays to the man!

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benchilwell 😂

user3 this is what he meant when he said that he doesn't wear jewelry unless he's with his gf? stop that's so cute :(

jun 11, 2022.

yourusername

Liked by kaihavertz29, benchilwell and others.

yourusername kai, you amaze me every day. i've known you for so long i feel like our lives where always intertwined, somehow. will always cherish the possibility of waking up next to you every morning, but especially today, when i can wish the happiest of birthdays to the man i love.

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benchilwell i love both of you so much 🤍

| ♥️ comment liked by yourusername and kaihavertz29.

user1 we went from "you know who you are" to tagging him 🥹

user2 also i think this is the first time she shows his full face 😭

kaihavertz29 waking up next to you is the biggest birthday gift. can't ask for anything more. i love you,

user3 she has such a way with words every year I shed a tear or two 🥲

user4 can't wait for the wedding vows it's gonna get emotional real fast 😭

jun 11, 2023.

#football imagine #football imagines #football instagram au #football x you #football x reader #kai havertz imagine #kai havertz x reader #kai havertz x you #kai havertz instagram au

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v3nusxsky · 7 months

Note

So I’m like severely sick rn, with a cough, fever, allergies and all the types of bodily pain you can think of.

Would you be so kind as to write a cute little Larissa x reader sick fic? Full creatives rights to you, write what comes to you and what you like. Thank you, darling:)<3

-comet ☄️

Sweet thing

*authors note~ I’m so sorry you’re sick lovely, I know this is a bit late but I hope this is okay? Taking an kinktober break to post this! Next instalment of kink is coming to a screen near you soon ;) Can always pop me a message and tell me anything you wanna change or add! It was written on a train so it sort of inspired this :)*

Trigger warnings~ little r cg Larissa anxiety brought on by trains illness fever sickness headaches just generally feeling crap ?? Probably more tbh😂

Prompt~see ask^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You knew you felt like shit today, it hit you as soon as you were awake, coughs wracking through your body as if it was nothing more than a meet bowling pin. The headache you went to bed with was never quite leaving you. In fact it seemed to have rested and come back with a vengeance, and of course it was the one day you couldn’t deal with this. You are meant to catch a train a little before two thirty to travel to Jericho and see your girlfriend for the month. Having time off from your school due to some building work gave you the perfect opportunity to discuss your idea of moving to Nevermore to teach with the blonde principal. You were more on edge as you knew the last “Normie” teacher the school had almost tried to kill your lover, but not being with her all the time kills you. Yet this sickness seemed to have other ideas for you.

Deciding you had some time you attempted to sleep off the worst of this sickness before dosing your self up on pain medicine and dragging yourself to the train station. Only this time when you awoke, your whole body ached, your eyes leaking moisture, nose running like a tap and this ungodly cold sensation all over your body. Instinctively, you wanted to borrow under the blankets and sleep for eternity but you simply didn't have the time for that. So instead, you hauled yourself out of bed, shoving on the comfiest pair of clothes you could find before readying your tired body to leave your room.

Rushing to the train station was all blur, but some how you made it and you couldn't be more grateful that you managed to secure a seat before the train got to busy. By the first stop, the train had began to pack up and in the sick haze you swore your heart was beating so fast it could be considered a rocket with the speed it was trying to take off with. your right leg began to bounce as you felt eyes on you from every direction of the train carriage. Paranoia seeped into your bones as you felt as if you'd been dunked into flames judging by the now uncomfortable heat spreading over your skin. The earbuds you strategically place in your ears to dull the noise now seemed to be failing as your head felt ready to explode. As soon as you heard your stop being announced you could've cried with joy as you escaped the train, promising yourself that you would never put yourself through that anxiety educing activity again. Especially not alone.

The taxis for Jericho are far and few between, in fact there is not any. so you enlisted the help of Nevermore's very own troublesome raven haired student and her werewolf girlfriend. It turned out to be brilliant timing as some of the Nevermore students happened to be in Jericho shopping for the raven, so you were able to sneak onto the shuttle using your abilities to help you blend in with the other students. Thankfully Coach Vald wasn't too observant otherwise he would've surly notice the sick teenager sat between Wednesday and Eind, who clearly wasn't there before.

Arriving at Nevermore took your breath away every time, yet this time it could be argued that it was the cough that was trying to force itself free from your chest that did it. With a quick thank you to the girls and reassurance that Wednesday, Enid's and things skills your luggage would make its way to the Principles office you slipped off to find your lover. As you walked the halls of Nevermore your body was slowly giving up, the pain overwhelming you, the fever causing you to shift into a much younger version of yourself. The need to find the Principal was now at an all new high, luckily she found your things before she found you. You'd have to thank Enid for spilling what was meant to be a surprise when you felt better.

"Hello love bug" you heard from down the hall. Your momma. once you turned to face her she could see just what Enid had described. you were really sick and yet somehow made your way to Nevermore to surprise the blonde. You must have told her a later train time in hopes to surprise her. Rather adorable, but she would have to remind you that you need too look after your health when you felt better. "Momma, no feel goods" you whimpered before your little body gave out and made friends with the floor.

Scooping you up of the floor and cradling your small frame to her chest, she could feel the heat radiating from you, yet shivers racked your frame as if it was winter weather. She immediately took you back to her private chambers where she could care for you more discreetly. Being placed on her bed, you immediately wriggled over to burrow your face in her pillow before snuggling into her blankets. With a small chuckle, the blonde gently rouses you to give medicine and cool your temperature down. "No Momma, no more" you whined trying to wriggle away as much as your weak body would allow you to. "I know little love, but we have to get you feeling better don't we?" to which you nodded and reached out for the older woman to hold you. Only when you were wrapped in her arms did you feel better, "magical nuggles momma" you yawned causing a huge smile for the Principal of Nevermore, the amount of love you brought her was magical. "Only for you my love, can you tell momma how you got here when you are feeling so icky darling?"

You sleepily recounted how you made your way to Nevermore and the reason why you were so determined to get to her. Even when you were this sick, Larissa was all you could think about and need. "Wanna live momma ever an ever" you mumbled before the medicine knocked you out, snuggled onto the principals chest, your home and safe space. Larissa held you while you slept wondering how she could reprimand for needing her? she just couldn't but if you lived and worked in Nevermore then she could most definitely keep an eye on you.

Word count 1159

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #comet anon #comet club #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa cg #larissa x you #larissa #Larissa Weems #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #principleweemsxreader #principal weems x reader #weems x reader #Larissa Agere

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writing-house-of-m · 8 months

Text

Welcome to the Team

Wanda Maximoff x Reader x Jeff the landshark

Summary: Jeff meets the team

A/N: Here is part 2 of my Jeff AU. In celebration of today being a year since I first posted a fic there will be a double bill of Jeff! The final 1 year celebration request includes Jeff too so you can expect that later on. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this part, it's practically a crack!fic 😂

It is unusual for everyone to be sitting in the lounge area on a random Friday afternoon. But you have put it off for long enough so it is time to finally rip off the band-aid.

You are standing facing the group of heroes who are all looking at you expectedly with Wanda standing right behind you. You look over your shoulder and see her give you an encouraging smile, waiting for you to start talking.

Taking a breath, you begin. "Okay. I know you're all wondering why we've asked you here today." And before you can get anywhere the Avengers must think this is the cue to start a guessing game.

"Wanda's pregnant!" Tony exclaims.

Some of the quicker thinkers widen their eyes and reflexively look at you.

You point at him to quickly shut down the thought, "No."

"Really? There have been some weird noises coming from your room lately," Sam thinks aloud.

Once again you are stopped before you can comment.

"You're moving out together?" Bucky asks.

You're about to decline the accusation but then they all come flooding in.

"You finally proposed?" Natasha questions.

"Wanda proposed?" Steve opposes.

"Oh wow, I really thought it would be you to pop the question, Y/n. What a twist," Carol, who you don't even know why she is here, says.

"You got a dog?" Peter speaks with a hopeful look in his eye.

"A cat maybe?" Bucky decides to add his own input. Along with Bruce who follows with, "Perhaps a rabbit?"

You turn to see Wanda amused by the whole thing. Turning back around, you have to raise your voice to be heard, "QUIET!" This manages to restore some order to the meeting you called.

"Thank you," you relax. "None of you are right. Actually I guess Peter, Bucky and Bruce were close."

You see Peter raise his hand for a fist bump but Bruce mistakes it for a high five so it turns into an awkward closed hand around a fist situation. Bucky is too far from either of them to celebrate the small victory.

"There is a new addition to the compound, his name is Jeff," you announce.

"Who names a hamster 'Jeff'?" Peter asks.

"No way, it's going to be a parrot. Or some kind of bird right?" Clint 'The Hawkeye' Barton guesses.

Once again this starts off a new guessing game - What animal could it be?

"Monkey," "Raccoon," "Fox," "Guinea pig," "Chameleon," "Duck!"

You begin to question your life choices, how did you ever end up in this situation? Maybe you should have set this gathering up like a game show at least then it might have been fun for you too.

Instead of stopping them this time you take a seat until they hopefully tire themselves out.

"No, no. From the noises I heard it's definitely a goat," Sam remarks.

You decide it's hopeless when the discussion doesn't look like it will cease. Giving up the waiting game you nod your head to Wanda rolling your eyes, you can tell she is holding in her laughter for your sake.

She leaves the area and after a few moments she returns with Jeff. It is only when the pitter patter sound of footsteps close in do they realise you are no longer standing directly in front of them. Instead you are next to Wanda with a new being between you.

You could hear a pin drop now that everyone's gazes are fixed to the little guy.

"Everybody, this is Jeff," you introduce your new roommate.

The attention seems to make Jeff nervous, you don't know if he has ever had this many eyes on him. Possibly when he was captive in the lab. You realise this could be traumatic for him so you guide him to step behind you.

His two front feet grip your leg as he peers round to see everyone still looking at him.

Wanda sits on the floor close to him with a hand resting on the fin on his back. "It's okay Jeff, they're all friendly," she reassures him.

"Is that a fish with legs?" Clint asks, "Oh man, I was way off."

"He's a shark," you say matter-of-factly. When you see everyone's expression change to a worried or frightened one you clarify further in hopes to calm their nerves. "A landshark!"

It doesn't work.

"Y/n, what the hell is a landshark? You better start explaining and fast," Natasha all but threatens you. You can see one of her hands has disappeared behind her back meaning she is defensively readying a knife behind her.

"He's not harmful, he's really friendly," you say. Then you remember some things you have read about sharks so are quick to add, "Also sharks are misconstrued as being vicious when they're actually not. They get a bad rep even though they're basically puppies of the ocean. Did you know, more people are killed each year by coconu-"

"Y/n!" Natasha interrupts.

"Right," you say, gathering your thoughts and glancing down at him. "He's nice and friendly and really playful. A bit of a clutz too. We've had him hidden in our room for about two weeks now."

This seems to bring Tony's attention away from the shark to you, "Oh really? And you didn't think to mention this to the person who pays for everything around here?"

"We were going to tell you after the first night he stayed but didn't bother because we didn't think he would be here for this long. Dr Cho was trying to get a specialist in to take a look at him but there were delays," Wanda momentarily takes over for you.

"Oh, so Cho knows. That's great," Tony comments sarcastically, "as well as the specialist, right?"

"Yes. Plus two others who work with the specialist," you add much to Tony's dismay.

Jeff seems to be a bit more comfortable because he has come out from behind you. He tugs on your pant leg wanting to be picked up by you so you oblige and feedback to the group what you have found out so far.

"They finally looked him over a couple of days ago. No one knows where he has come from or why he looks the way he does. The working theory is that he was experimented on which fits with what Wanda saw in a flash the first time she came in contact with him."

Jeff starts squirming in your arms so you nod to Wanda to continue while you try to settle Jeff by whispering words of affirmation to him. Telling him none of these people will hurt him as you rub up and down his back.

"From the tests and interacting with him so far he seems to be able to understand us and in addition to being able to breathe air he can breathe underwater too. The more time we spend with him the easier it has been to communicate," Wanda finishes, while she scratches under Jeff's chin which helps calm his nerves.

Everyone looks on in silence as Jeff pulls away from you slightly. You speak in a low tone asking if he wants to say hi to the team. Which, reluctantly, he agrees to.

There is a strong bond between you, even if it hasn't been too long since you found him, so he knows he can trust anyone you want to introduce him to.

You go to place him on the ground but he whines a little while clutching your shirt. Instead, you stand back up and he turns in your arms facing the expecting crowd.

He raises his little hand in a wave speaking in a small voice, "Mrr."

In a second everybody's eyes soften and you hear a collective 'aww' sound out.

Maybe you should have started with this.

They are all about to rush over but you stop them from doing so with a hand out in front of you while taking a step back. Wanda moves swiftly standing between the incoming horde and Jeff.

"One at a time," she requests.

Peter makes his way over first and greets Jeff introducing himself.

It definitely must be a sight, all of this.

A young couple holding a shark as if he is a baby. It is only inevitable that someone asks, "So, is Jeff like your child then?"

And of course that person has to be Natasha.

…

The Jeff you are looking at now is unrecognisable to the Jeff from half an hour ago. He has lossened right up.

After everyone introduced themselves Peter decided to show Jeff his web slingers and, against yours and Wanda's wishes, hung Jeff upside down from the ceiling. The excited noise and wide smile was enough to make you step back. But not too far back just enough, in case you needed to catch him.

After that he spent some time with Carol who showed him a glowing fist. Natasha smirked at Wanda and you as she twirled a knife around her fingers, Bucky doing the same which turned into a contest.

When they weren't looking you picked him up and moved him away from the crazy movements.

As the only member with kids Clint simply spoke to him like he was a baby, Steve said he didn't have any tricks for him but maybe one day he would show Jeff his shield. Sam asked Jeff if he wanted to pet Redwing which he happily did.

Even now Tony has been playing tricks with him, making a coin disappear then reappear from behind Jeff's ear. He had to borrow a coin from someone first, it would have been more surprising if Tony had any small change on his person to begin with.

Next is Bruce who tells Jeff there is someone else he should meet then transforms into the Hulk. Jeff looks at the green giant in wonder then puts his arms up to be picked up so he can be the tallest in the room. When Hulk sees Jeff he crouches down so he is eye level with Jeff, sniffing and surveying him. He chuckles, calls Jeff 'a puny baby' then picks him up and places the landshark on his head.

Shortly after everyone takes their leave. Clint is on his way home to his family, Natasha goes to train with Bucky following behind her. A Hulk-less Bruce returns to the lab with Tony. Steve, Sam and Carol are discussing a mission they are assigned to lead and Peter says he has some homework he needs to finish.

"What a day huh Jeff?" You breathe out, exhausted. Jeff looks at you like a small child while trotting around, jumping on the couches and back onto the floor excited about all the new friends he has made.

"I think Jeff is going to be just fine here," Wanda says to you as you both watch him, side by side.

"Hello good people of Earth!" You hear a familiar loud voice sound from the entrance disturbing your peace. And when he makes it in front of you, he is his usual happy self.

"Hi Thor... What are you doing here?" You ask, confused.

"I'm here for the meeting, of course," Thor says in his cheery voice.

"I didn't know you were on the mailing list," you say a little tiredly trying to think back to the email you sent out.

"I didn't know he knew how to check his email," you hear Wanda's side comment next to you.

"Well, I am the strongest Avenger after all," Thor boasts, "I should be here for all the little talks and what nots."

"Right," you say a little unsurely. "Err, the meeting is over now but it was to introduce a new resident to the compound."

You see him spot Jeff who peeks his head over the backrest between you and Wanda. He is looking at Thor in awe with his mouth agape much like he did when he saw Hulk.

As he climbs over the back rest you stand and Jeff stands next to you in front of Thor his head tilting back as he trails his eyes upwards from the hammer Thor is holding to his face.

"This is Jeff," Wanda says.

"Jeff the landshark," you add.

Thor has seen plenty of creatures in his lifetime so it's no surprise he doesn't react in a negative way. "Oh, how wonderful! Welcome to the team, little landshark!" Thor's voice booms excitedly.

You don't get a chance to tell Thor that Jeff is not a part of the team, only that he is staying with you in the compound because, before you know it, he lifts Jeff onto his shoulder and walks away with him.

Sighing heavily you place your hands on your hips when you hear Thor talking about a battle, going into excruciating details about how he killed a group of enemies. You are a little wary of how Jeff is going to respond to the gory details of war.

Wanda stands and moves behind you. She wraps her arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. "He-" Wanda was about to say something but is cut off short when you both hear an excited squeal from Jeff in the distance so she rests her chin and giggles against you instead.

"I was going to say he's going to love whatever story Thor brings up, but that's kind of obvious now," she says, smiling into your shoulder.

You sigh again, "I know. But now he's going to want us to talk about all the fights we've endured and I don't think it's good for him."

Next, you hear some scuffling making you cringe because it sounds as though some equipment has fallen and crashed to the ground. Not long later you hear the sound of fast little footsteps making their way in your direction.

Then you hear Thor shout, "JEFF! GIVE THAT BACK."

Well this can't be good.

Before you can move from your spot Jeff runs past you with Mjolnir clutched in his mouth. Wanda has stepped beside you and when you glance at each other you see she holds the same shocked expression as you.

You both then turn to see Jeff's figure running out of the entrance doors. Wanda is clearly amused but you speak aloud the question on your mind, "How is he worthy and I'm not?" You ask, insulted.

Wanda wraps her arms around your neck, her fingers playing with your hair, "It's okay honey, you don't need a hammer telling you anything I don't already know."

She is leaning in to kiss you but a new voice enters your ears.

"Sestra! Come look! There's a dog in a shark costume out here!" Pietro exclaims, "And he's holding a fake hammer too!"

It is official.

Jeff has met the whole team.

78 notes · View notes

shina913 · 2 years

Text

The Boyfriend Experience | KNJ

The Boyfriend Experience: Namjoon

The BFE: Masterlist

Pairing: Escort!Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: sex!work_AU; smut; PWP

Warnings: legal sex work (in this AU); sex for hire; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; soft!dom Namjoon; alcohol consumption; public sexual activities; dirty talk; exhibitionism; fingering; clit play; riding; breast play; heavy petting; protected sex

Word count: 6.6K words

Summary: 💬 It felt very similar to an actual date, as if we’d come back to my place after a dating app meet-up – except the part about me slipping him cash in an envelope, of course. The intimacy happened naturally. He didn’t ask me for directions on how to turn me on, I just let him do his thing.

A/N: Okay so, still having a rough couple weeks and just getting back into the swing of writing--and actually finishing--something. I think I was feeling a burnt out from work and just posting back to back to back so taking a month off was helpful. I'm just happy to finish something--another gratuitous PWP, no less 😂

Semi-beta'd so please excuse typos and redundancies!

Happy Birthday, Namjoonie! 🎉

‼️IMPORTANT: Although the narration will include Namjoon's name, OC/Reader will not address him as so because she booked him under an assumed alias. Weird, I know but--let's just go with it 😉

Your sneakers squeaked across the hard, marble surface as you barreled through the entrance. You were late for your date, mentally kicking yourself for answering your work phone during the weekend. It was just supposed to be a quick sign-off at the office–but nope! One task rolled into another, and next thing you knew, you had no time to go home and get dolled up.

You’d have to settle for your shirt-dress and sneakers–a far cry from the pantsuits and pencil skirts that you wore on the daily. At least you showered before you left your condo.

A few more steps in and you finally spot him, standing next to a banner that showcased the featured exhibit. Although, if anybody asked you, you’d sooner say that he could pass for an exhibit as well…except you’d prefer a private showing instead.

“Hi!” You greeted him from afar.

Namjoon smiled, looking up from the museum brochure that he held. A flash of his dimple, already making you feel flustered. “Hello! It’s good to see you again.”

You smiled as you stopped right in front of him. “It’s good to see you, too.”

You reach out for a handshake but he goes in for a hug. It takes you by surprise, but it’s a welcome one. This date was already off to a great start.

He was tall with cropped hair and golden skin–just as you remembered him from your introductory meeting, or–’mini-date’. Instead of the tailored suit he had on that evening, he was dressed more casually today. Still, he looked unbearably handsome. Those gentle features–only intensified by the heart-stopping smile that he beamed. And those dimples? Lord. They gave him that boyish but equally sexy charm that would make anyone weak in the knees.

“I hope you’ll forgive me. I’m not usually late but–I had a last-minute emergency at work and I had to take care of that.” You pull away from each other but his hand still lingers on your arm, squeezing it gently before it falls away. It felt…nice. He smelled nice, too.

“No big deal. And you haven’t offended me so–there’s nothing to forgive. I would have met you anywhere you needed me. I hope you didn’t feel rushed or anything.

“No, no. I really should have just ignored the call but…duty calls so…” you shrugged.

“Well…I know you said that you wanted a change of pace. I hope this is okay?”

It was certainly different from what you were used to. Typically, you arrange dates to meet up at a restaurant, a bar…or just cut to the chase and go straight to a hotel room.

“When we first spoke, you said that you liked museums and urban hikes. I thought it sounded like a great idea since I’ve done neither on any of my previous dates.”

“Neither have I,” he laughs. “My uh…dates are…usually predictable,” he smiled sheepishly.

“O-oh…Is that so?” You couldn’t help but feel inquisitive.

Realizing his mistake, he tries to correct it immediately. “I didn’t mean like that. I just meant–I’ve never gone on dates where the client gave me full control of…our activities.”

When you first met at the restaurant, he didn’t go all in with the hard-sell–unlike previous dates you’d had. He was soft-spoken and quite enigmatic. If this were any different date, you’d think he was being cagey and you’d immediately run in the other direction.

But there was something about him that reeled you in. Part of it was the thrill of uncovering that mystery.

And who were you kidding? Who could resist those dimples? And those eyes? It really was all very effortless for him.

During your mini-date, he asked you what you wanted out of the experience. And you told him for once–you wanted to relinquish control. Day in and day out, you were the decision-maker. You called the shots. It works out great at your day job, but every now and then, you thought it would be nice not to have that responsibility.

Your request was for him to plan a whole day around you. You established your hard limits, which he carefully noted. Typically, the escorts would let clients dictate how the date would go–the choice was yours. But you were tired of ‘typical’. So, your choice–was not to make choices for the day. It was uncharted territory but there was an element of excitement to it.

“Shall we?” He gestures down a hall and you follow him. He waits for your steps to fall in sync with his.

You started down one corridor, which held the featured artist’s early paintings. You’d heard of the artist before–he’s had historic murals installed within the city. One of them was on loan to the museum to round out the whole collection, which was deemed to be the largest in decades–or, at least, that’s what the brochure said.

When you stopped in front of one painting or showed any remote interest in one, he would start talking about the story behind it and point out small details such as the varying brush strokes. He even talks about the evolving style and other artists who influenced it.

He stood right beside you and you couldn’t help but study him some more. Even in a position as benign as standing, he exuded primal confidence. “This is one of my favorites.” His deep voice resonated, inciting a restless energy in your legs. You shifted where you stood, trying to ignore the growing need between your thighs.

Art didn’t interest you very much but hearing him talk about it emphatically and with so much enthusiasm–you wished you spent more time in museums–as long as he was there to talk you through every piece.

******

“Do you do this often?”

“Do what?”

“Tour museums.”

He smiles. “Yeah, mostly during my free time. Although, I’ve never taken dates here.”

“Why’s that?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I haven’t had many clients request for this specific date. They usually just want dinner or drinks. Sometimes, we’ll go to a scheduled event. Museums aren’t usually…fun.” He eyes you carefully as he stops in front of a portrait on display.

“I don’t see why this wouldn’t be considered a fun activity.” You tilt your head to the side to admire the portrait straight ahead. You could see him still staring at you from your peripheral vision.

“Some people don’t think it’s stimulating enough.” His voice was low and raspy.

You turn your head to the side to face him. “Hm. I beg to differ.”

And there it was again, that enigmatic smile. It excited you to think about what else he had in store for your date today.

******

After about two hours of marveling at paintings, you decided to take a break at the museum’s cafe for a light meal.

“Have you always enjoyed art?”

“Oh god, no!” He says emphatically. “No, this hobby is relatively new to me. I always thought museums were the most boring places. Until, I had a client take me to an event that was in one. I arrived a bit early just to familiarize myself with the place and…I found the exhibit really interesting that day.”

A moment later, he clears his throat and turns the conversation back to you. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Although he sat across from you at the museum cafe, the tone of his voice made it feel like he was right beside you, whispering in your ear. It was a miracle how you managed to keep it together this whole time when all you wanted was him to punish you for some undetermined misbehavior.

You uncrossed your legs, only to switch sides and cross them again–the pressure providing a pathetic amount of relief to the searing ache that built up within you.

In an effort to remain nonchalant about it, you lean in slightly and propped your elbow on the table, cupping your chin on your hand. “What about me?”

“Well…I know that this isn’t your first experience,” he says, referring to booking escorts. “Why have you decided to change things around?”

You sighed wistfully. “I’m a ball-buster…on a daily basis. It’s my job.” You looked down, fidgeted with your glass, swiping your finger at the condensation that had built up on the outside.

“As soon as I show the slightest hint of weakness or start wavering, they’d start looking at me differently. Some people go to spas, some people turn to alcohol to unwind and let loose…” You paused to peer up at him. “I book escorts,” you say simply.

“Dating wasn’t doing it for you?”

Dating could be so cumbersome…and you’ve tried. You even tried one of those hookup apps. And while it was fun at first, it wasn’t entirely attachment-free.

Which is why you turned to escorts. It was anonymous and no-frills. The best of both worlds. You’ve booked a few ‘freelancers’ in the past…even having a couple of regular standbys. But after a while, the meetups and hookups started to feel a little stale. And since these guys had a two-three hour limit, you needed a good shakeup.

One of your longtime friends, who was a bored housewife, referred you to a very particular escort service. It was an exclusive club and you had to be referred by a current member to gain access.

You laughed. “I don’t have the patience to date…at least, not at the moment. Even the occasional hookup takes…effort. I happen to have specific needs that I want fulfilled quickly and hiring escorts takes the guesswork out of that.”

“And what is it that you need? Apart from something ‘different’ than what you normally get from other escorts?”

This was one of the things you enjoyed about escorts. They’re intent on getting to know more about you and what you like. They’re hard-wired to please their clients, to make sure that they keep coming back for more. That was their business, but at the end of the day, it was a judgment-free zone. And you appreciated that you can be honest about what you wanted and how you wanted it done.

“I just want to be handled.” You say to him frankly, without breaking eye contact.

He smiled. “And you think I’m the one who can take care of business for you?”

While scrolling through their app, Namjoon’s profile intrigued you, right off the bat. It was something in the look in his eyes that pulled you in. And your conversation during your initial meeting sealed the deal for you.

“Well…can you?” You already knew the answer but still wanted to challenge him.

He smiles cockily but doesn’t answer your question, but still stays on topic. “So, you like to be dominated every now and then?” He asks, based on what he’s read from your profile.

You relax your shoulders, leaning back in your seat. “In a way? But, on my own terms.”

He chuckled at your bossiness. “Hard habit to break?”

You smiled. “It’s…difficult to explain.”

“No, I get it, I think?” He smirked, mirroring your seating position, regarding you. “You’re used to having control over your job…your life. Once in a while, you want to let go a little bit…let things happen–but in a way where you still get to have a say in it. Is that pretty close?”

It sounded strange when he verbalized it–but that was exactly it. Being in control gets so exhausting. But you were human. You needed a safe space to allow yourself to be soft–without compromising your identity.

“To put it bluntly, yes.”

He smiles, looking pleased with himself. He glances at his watch, then at you. “Are you ready for our next stop?”

“Sure! Where to?”

“There’s a museum in the middle of the park that holds weekly themed events at night. Have you heard about it?”

You shook your head. “That seems unusual. A night at the museum? Do the exhibits come to life or something?”

He cocked an eyebrow then chuckled softly at your attempt at humor. “No…but I promise you, it’s still going to be as exciting, I’ll tell you that much.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Really?”

He nods gently.

You purse your lips, the mystery killing you. “Will you give me a hint?”

“And ruin the surprise?” He shook his head, taking a sip of his water.

You give him your best puppy eyes, trying to quietly appeal to him. But he stares back at you quietly, unyielding.

You decide to push your luck a bit and bat your eyelashes at him. “Please?”

At the sound of that, he flexed his jaw and leaned in closer to you. You’d never seen anything hotter. He lowered his voice, deciding to throw you a bone.

“Let’s just say…you’ll be saying that word a lot when we get there.”

That made you gulp audibly.

He grins mischievously. “C’mon, we should get going before it gets too crowded there.”

******

He wasn’t kidding about this place. You’ve driven past it before but dismissed it as another Natural History Museum and Aquarium. After years in this city, you never thought to come here during the day–much less at night.

After checking in to get your tickets scanned by the entrance. Namjoon tells you that this event is for guests aged 21 and over only. A guest services staff checks your IDs–you look away when he presents his and he does the same when you present yours. Careful to protect both your identities.

“Thank you both. Welcome to Night Life!” The staff says enthusiastically.

You walk through the glass doors. You crane your neck and scan the main hall. It doesn’t even look like a museum. Sure, there were signs leading to some exhibits and directions to the aquarium. Neon LED lights illuminated the space. There was a DJ booth whose music blasted through large speakers that were situated in strategic corners. There were cocktail carts with patrons lining up to get their drinks. It was practically a club!

“Wow–this is…different,” you remarked, still marveling at the space.

“You said you wanted ‘different’ so…” He trailed off.

Ask and you shall receive. Even though he planned this whole afternoon around things that he liked doing, he was still intent on pleasing you.

The service promised ‘satisfaction guaranteed.’ So far, you have yet to be disappointed.

“Looks fun!” You beamed in excitement.

“C’mon, let’s get you a drink,” he urges while you walk towards the closest mini-bar by the entrance.

******

Tonight’s theme was centered on wildlife photography. The museum had some guests of honor, famous photographers and documentarians who exhibited their work, which was also available for purchase.

You walked around, admiring the portraits. Very different from paintings and sculptures from your earlier museum trip, but no less interesting.

You ventured down to the lower level, where the aquarium was situated. High-top tables were spread out around the space but they left more than enough room for guests to move and admire the various exhibits.

You both stopped in front of one, which was situated in a quiet corner. Although most of the guests crowded around the jellyfishes, coral reef, and stingray exhibits–which were in larger tanks, this smaller tank fascinated you.

“Leafy seadragons. Pretty cool, huh?”

You hummed. “They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them.” These sea creatures moved slowly and gracefully in the water. It was like a seahorse but with a more fabulous outfit.

“They’re so…hypnotic,” you say distractedly.

He looked sideways at you, eyeing you intently. “When you booked me, you said it was because you wanted a different experience?”

“Yes, I did.” You cocked your head to the side, examining the exhibit for a few seconds before turning your attention back to him.

“Honestly, I was tired of the usual booking. Dinner, drinks, followed by sex–not that I’m complaining but….” You lifted a shoulder. “It gets pretty boring after a while,” you say flatly. “I thought I’d explore a bit more.”

He regarded you intently. “You know, this is the first time that a client has told me to plan out the date. I have to admit, I was pretty excited about it.”

That makes two of you.

“I wanted a change of pace. The men I’ve hired–they’re great and I liked them–for whatever purpose they served but…at a certain point, I wanted a bit more out of the dates.”

“Hmm…is this date ticking all of your boxes so far?”

He sidled up to you. The scent of his cologne hitting your senses. He didn’t bathe in it–unlike the other guys. It was subtle, but still potent enough to make you feel off-balance.

“Not all of it.” You stared at him hungrily. “There’s one more box that I haven’t quite determined yet.”

He smirked. “If you’re relying on your statistics, wouldn’t you think I’d have already fulfilled everything you wanted out of this experience?”

You smirked back at him. “Well, unlike you, I’m not big on guessing games or theories. I’m more of a—what’s the word—pragmatic? And I like to experience things firsthand before I come to my own conclusion.”

“Oh, is that right? You’d like to come to your own conclusion?”

“Yes.” You try not to sound too breathless.

“Hm. That’s fair.”

You sighed softly. “Because how would I know…what I don’t know? And I don’t trust hearsay.”

“I couldn’t agree more. So, when would you like to rectify that?” His hand crept up the small of your back and started drawing soft, circular patterns on it.

“As soon as possible. I’d hate to pay overtime if I don’t need to.”

“You won’t need to. One thing about me is that I’m very efficient. I prioritize quality…over quantity.” You turned your head to the side to find his face inches away from yours. “But…I can fulfill both, if you want.” He purred.

“Yes...”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” you swallowed hard.

A smile ghosted his lips. He looked sideways for a brief moment then turned his hot gaze back to you. “Would you like a prelude?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Before you could answer, he backs you into a corner that you weren’t even aware of until now.

The barely lit, constricting space makes you feel a little bit panicked, but also excited.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Nobody will see us. I made sure of that,” he replied confidently. His hand gripped one side of your hip firmly, his fingers flexing, as if testing your limits.

You tilt your chin up, inching closer to his face. “You look like you’ve done this before,” you say breathily.

He dipped his head lower, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from you. “And if I have, would you care?”

His lips brushed behind your ear. One of his hands pressed flat to your stomach, the fingers splaying to urge you deeper into the corner. He was as aroused as you were, his cock already hard against your thigh.

You’d never gotten frisky in public–but that didn’t mean that it was a hardline for you. All you needed was the right partner for it.

Your hand slid down, past his waist, grazing his crotch. “As long as you know what you’re doing, I don’t really care.”

He lifted his head at your boldness and stared you down. You stared back at him in the dim light and nipped at his lower lip.

He groaned and sealed his mouth over yours. His lips were firm but exerted gentle pressure. You sighed and his tongue dipped inside. His kiss was confident, right on-brand with what he’s shown you so far…and it had the right amount of aggression that turned you on wildly.

He cupped the back of your head and the curve of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “If you want to stop at any point, just say so, YN. Do you understand?” He murmured past your lips.

You nodded.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Yes. I understand.”

He caught your lips again, hand gliding past the hem of your dress and right up between your legs where he parted you with his fingers. He slid one finger into you, making you inhale sharply at the sensation.

He smiled through your kisses, pulling out then pushed back in with two fingers. You did your best to hold back a moan but a pathetic whine escaped your lips.

“Oh my god…” You were panting for him, your hips circling shamelessly onto his thrusting fingers. You felt like you’d lose your mind if he didn’t get you off.

You’d never been so turned on in your life. If anyone walked right past you right then and found you writhing in this corner while finger-fucked you, you wouldn’t care. You just wanted to cum.

“Do you want to hear all the ways I can please you, YN?” He holds one of your legs up with his free hand and rests it on his hip to spread you wider for him. Your cunt rippled around his stroking fingers, the rawness of his words pushing you to the brink.

He was breathing hard, too. His face was flushed, eager to give you what you needed, what you craved.

“I can do anything…everything you ask me to.” Hearing you whine softly, he takes your mouth again, swallowing the rest of your moans while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your insides pulsed erratically at the onslaught, that familiar feeling, surging within your belly. He withdrew his fingers and palmed your sex, rubbing rhythmic circles around your clit. You bucked your hips against his hand shamelessly, absolutely lost in the moment.

The music pumped through the speakers, swelling with a heavy bassline that thumped against your chest. One final stroke of his hand had you groaning into his mouth, your body stiffening as searing pleasure ripped right through you.

Your neck goes lax and you collapse on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

“Fuck, you make the sexiest noises…I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight,” he chuckles darkly.

******

You waited until the coast was clear, giving him a few minutes to get his raging hardon down. Truth be told, you didn’t mind if he fucked you right then. But you were paying him a premium price…and you wanted to enjoy him to the fullest, preferably with all of his clothes off.

You called a car to head straight to the hotel where you booked a room for the night. You never took guys back into your home–it was too risky–didn’t matter how hot they were.

You continued to make out in the backseat. The driver, bless his heart, did his best to look away while you both sighed and giggled like horny teenagers.

When you arrived at the entrance, you tipped him generously as you and Namjoon practically sprinted past a crowded lobby and towards the bank of elevators. Thankfully, the hotel allowed you to check in earlier today. You didn’t think you’d be able to endure another second without his body pressed up against you.

You stumbled out of the elevators and staggering down the hall to your room. It was a challenge trying to untangle yourself from him. As you fumbled for the hotel keycard in your purse, his lips were on your neck, hands snaking up your dress. You hurried to pull the card out or you’d risk him fucking you out in the hallway.

The door clicks open and you both barrel into the room, his mouth shifting up to your lips to taste you again. Distantly, you hear him kick the door shut, continuing to back you further to the bedroom.

He spins you around, your back pressed against him, caging you while his hand roams all around your front. Squeezing your breast with one, the other rubbing at your clothed pussy.

You threw your head back in low moan as he nipped at your neck, grinding his hard cock between your ass cheeks.

Boy, did he know how to make a woman feel good…and abso-fucking-lutely aroused.

Somehow, you found yourself right by the foot of the bed. He spins you around again and pushes you softly, making you fall to the mattress. The hem of your dress scandalously hiked up past your waistline.

He hisses at the sight of your laced panties, so you decide to push his buttons. You pull your dress up over your head, leaving you laid up in your underwear. You reach back and unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

He bit his lower lip, as if fighting the animalistic urge to completely devour you.

Keeping his eyes trained on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, painfully slowly–before his fingers moved to undo his jeans in the same, controlled manner.

Your body practically vibrated with anxiety–beating you at your own game.

You grunted. “We don’t have all night, you know,” you said through gritted teeth while you watched his hand go past his boxer-briefs’ waistband, stroking his length beneath it.

“I know,” he says simply.

Your mouth was watering, you wanted him to take you, five minutes ago!

You scooched back further on the bed, lifted your hips to rid yourself of your panties. You spread your legs wide to entice him. “What are you waiting for then?”

“For you.”

You threw your head back in frustration and flatten your back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. “What are you talking about? I’m ready!” You whine petulantly.

“I know that.” He pulled a condom out of his pants pocket.

“So, fuck me now!”

There was a beat of silence in the room, filled by the sound of your heaving breaths.

“You have to ask nicely first,” he says evenly.

You sat back up quickly at the sound of that. He was naked in front of you now, your core clenching involuntarily at the sight of him. He cocked his eyebrow at you until realization sets in and you recall your conversation from this afternoon.

You took a deep breath to dull the pounding in your chest.

“Please,” you say quietly.

“I can’t hear you.” He teases you further, slipping the condom casually down his length. Your mouth went dry.

You cleared your throat. This was what you wanted–to loosen the reins, give up control for a bit…and be dominated…on your own terms.

“Please,” you say a little louder.

“Please…what?”

“Please…Fuck. Me.” You enunciated every word for him.

He grinned wickedly, crawling up the mattress towards you, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “That’s a good girl.”

You were pressed full-body against him, achingly aware of every hot, hard inch of him. You kissed him back, tasting him. Savoring him. Your skin was damp and way too sensitive, your breasts heavy and tender. Your clit throbbed for attention, the pounding reaching up to your ears along with your raging heartbeat.

He was levered over you, his arm supported his torso while his right hand gripped the back of your knee, sliding upward along your thigh in a firm glide.

A low rumble vibrated in his chest, the primitive sound sending goosebumps coursing through your pores.

In a daze, you watched Namjoon’s body lower, your legs sliding apart to accommodate the width of his hips. Your muscles strained with the urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact between you that you’d been craving since he fingered you at the museum. Lowering his head, he took your mouth…hard, bruising your lips in the process.

You pulled on his silky strands, making him growl while your kisses deepened, stroking your tongue with lush licks of his own. You felt the same intense pounding of his heart against your chest, proof that he was right in this same moment with you.

“I want you so much,” you breathed out in between kisses. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m going to make you cum over…and over…’til you beg me to stop.”

“Fuck, yes,” You muttered, aware that you weren’t offended. In fact, the rawness of his hunger for you was a serious aphrodisiac.

“Let me in, then.”

You very eagerly reached between you, reaching for his cock. Spreading wider for him you rubbed the tip against your slick folds. The contact would have made you orgasm at the friction but you preferred to cum while he was inside you.

You guided him to your center, gasping at the way he parted your flesh. He pushed in gently, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you respond while your walls adjust to the stretch. “More…please.”

His jaw hardened. He pulled out slightly then slid his cock back in, pushing deeper. Your mouth falls open while he fills you to the brim.

“Ffuuckkk…” you dragged out, digging your nails into his biceps.

“You’re so tight…”

“You’re just huge,” you countered.

He chuckled devilishly, flashing that damned dimple at you. Tightening his hold, he starting fucking you, nailing your hips to the mattress with deep, fierce thrusts. Pleasure rippled through you again, pushing through you with every drive of his body.

He buried his face in your neck and held you tightly in place, fucking you hard and fast, whispering raw, sex-crazed words that drove you to absolute insanity.

“You feel me deep in you, huh? I can feel it against my stomach…my dick pounding into you.”

You’d give him this round. You made small, helpless sounds of want while his mouth ate yours. You were desperate for him, nails digging into his ass, struggling to meet his thrusts with your own.

“Come on, baby…” he ordered. “Cum for me now…”

You climaxed in such a rush that had you babbling incoherently, the sensation elevated by the way he’d possessed your body. He threw his head back, shuddering at the feel of your insides pulsating and gripping at him tightly.

Still trying to piece your brain back from your orgasm, you vaguely register him pulling out of you, making you wince.

Lifting you, he moved you, shifting your positions so that his back was to the headboard and you spread over him. Your bodies sliding against each other with a generous layer of sweat.

“Do you want to take your control back?”

Your breath hitched. While you enjoyed begging him to do things to you, you couldn’t fight the urge to take some of that power back for yourself.

“Yes,” you answered, definitely.

With your knees on either side of his hips, you straightened your spine, making you tower over him now.

Leaning back further, he stretched his arms on either side of him. “Go ahead and take it, then.”

You ran your hands down his chest, relishing the hardness of his muscles. Your fingers traced the ridges of his pectorals, his abdomen…your own personal, interactive art exhibit right in front of you.

You rocked your hips against him, stroking yourself with the hard length of his cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“Don’t tease me–put me back in,” he practically demanded.

Now it was your turn to torture him. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

He cupped your face and pressed his lips hard against yours. You reached down to stroke his length–the condom, covered in your slick.

He tensed but didn’t stop you. He handed control back to you. He closed his eyes and groaned at the delicious punishment you were giving to him. The sounds he made were both pained and erotic to you. You squeezed him gently, your touch deliberately tender as you sized him with your hands. You slid both of your fists up his length from root to tip, your breath catching when he shuddered beneath you.

Namjoon gripped your thighs, his hands sliding upwards until his thumbs grazed your taut nipples. He pinched and tugged at them, making you moan into his mouth.

“I can beg, too, if that’s what it takes to be inside you again,” he murmured into your mouth.

“Say it.” You stroked him with one hand.

One of his thumbs slid beneath you, the pad sliding through the slickness of your dripping core. “Please, YN…Fuck me,” he said so clearly, his eyes gleaming at you.

Your cheeks heated. The evenness of his tone sent a burst of confidence through you.

Setting your hands on his shoulders for balance, you lifted onto your knees, rising to gain the height you needed to hover over the tip of his cock. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you.

His hardness brushed past your inner thighs as he moved and you whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given you earlier had only aggravated your craving rather than sated it.

He tensed when you wrapped your fingers around him and positioned him, tucking the wide head against the saturated folds. The scent of sex was heavy and kicked the room’s temperature up several notches–it was a dizzying mix of need and pheromones that awakened every inch of you.

“God. YN,” he gasped as you lowered onto him, his hands flexing restlessly on your thighs.

You closed your eyes briefly. When you opened them, you were eye-to-eye, only inches apart.

“Move for me, please.” His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

He didn’t need to ask twice. Your hips rolled of their own volition.

He reached down, massaged your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing slow, expert circles. Your core tightened and clenched tightly around him in a vice-like grip. He was so agonizingly gorgeous, lying beneath you, watching you take what you wanted from him.

His neck arched, fighting to restrain himself from barrelling his hips against you. “Ah, fuck…you feel so good,” he bit out, his teeth grinding.

He was so deep you could hardly stand it, forcing you to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort with his size. But your body didn’t seem to care that he was too big. Your cunt took him greedily–as if it couldn’t get enough. Your walls rippled around him, squeezing…on the verge of orgasm.

Unable to contain himself any further, Namjoon cursed under his breath, held on to your hip with one hand, urging you to lean back with the other, as his chest heaved. You stretched your arms back, holding onto his thighs for support and leverage.

You opened up wider, taking more of him in. Your belly fluttered at how much deeper he sank, hitting the tip of your cervix, savoring the soreness as he pushed just past your limits.

His hips churned impatiently, meeting your thrusts. You lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before he stopped you with that ferocious grasp on your hip.

Your eyes locked on each other as the pleasure coursed through your bodies. The sounds that escaped his lips spurred you, as if the pleasure were as unbearable for him as it was for you.

Somewhere along the way, primitive instinct took over you, leaving your body completely in charge. Your sole focus was the urge to fuck him out of his mind, the vicious need to ride him until the tension burst and set you free of this mindless, animalistic hunger.

“Fuck…yes…oh my god…so good,” you mewled, lost to him.

Using both hands, he directed your rhythm, his cock rubbing that tender, aching bundle of nerves inside you. You shook involuntarily, realizing that your orgasm was creeping up quicker than you anticipated.

“Ah, shit–I’m close,” you gasped out.

Leaning forward slightly, he captured you by the nape, pulling you closer to him. Your orgasm exploded through you, starting with deep, throbbing spasms of your core before radiating outward until you shivered all over.

He watched you fall apart, holding your gaze when you would’ve closed your eyes. Possessed by his stare, you cried hoarsely, cumming harder than you ever had, your body jerking with every pulse of your nerves.

He growled, pounding his hips up at you, yanking your hips lower to meet his merciless lunges. He tunneled into you, hitting you with every deep thrust.

You watched him intently, wanting–no, needing to see what it was like when he went over the edge. His eyes were wild, pupils dark and blown out wide…losing their focus as his control melted away, his face marred by the brutal need to climax.

He came with a feral growl…his deep, animalistic groans riveted you with their ferocity. He shook as his orgasm ripped through him, making you clench at the sensation of him spurting into the condom.

You cupped his face, his features softening after riding out his high. You brush your thumb across his lips, a small offering of comfort and intimacy as his stuttered, gasping breaths fanned your face.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing his damp forehead against yours.

“Wow,” you breathed, shaken.

His lips twitched. “You can say that again.”

You both smiled, feeling dazed and high.

You stayed like that for a minute, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. He turned his head and kissed you softly, the gentle strokes of his tongue into your mouth, slowing the pounding in your chest to a steady thrum.

You lifted gingerly off him, biting your lip at the feel of him slipping wetly out of you. The friction was enough to make you want more. But you had to admit, you were spent–fully satisfied.

He disposed of the condom, offering to help clean you up–and you let him. Shortly after, he jumped into the shower.

******

You were in a bathrobe, in the middle of checking your emails when he stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed again.

“Are you okay?” He asks, as if he hadn’t already checked on you minutes ago.

“Yes I am, thank you,” you replied. “Are you alright?”

He laughed. “I’ll admit, I think I need another minute.”

You smiled while you walked towards where you set your purse down, on the coffee table by the window. While he was in the shower, you picked it up off the floor after you dropped it haphazardly when you were both in the midst of your horny entanglement earlier.

“By the way, I should have given you this sooner.” You reached in to grab an envelope of cash and hand it to him. “I uh–sort of got distracted earlier,” you chuckled sheepishly.

“Well…you and me both,” he laughs, taking his payment. “As long as you don’t tell my boss about it.”

You gestured as if zipping your lips. “He’ll only hear about the good things,” you promised.

“Thank you,” he says, pocketing the money.

“Where are you off to now? Do you have other bookings today?” It wasn’t awkward for you to make smalltalk. It was all business anyway.

“I actually had to reschedule my next client,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck while he looked down at his phone that he held with his other hand. “You kind of wore me out. You’re making me rethink my workout regimen.”

You laughed heartily. “That might be a good idea. You’ve got to work on your stamina.” You winked at him before turning to your phone again, clicking at the screen.

His brows furrowed, feeling a little slighted. “Why’s that?

Before he gets an answer, his phone pings with a distinctive alert from his BFE app. When he glances at it to check, the crease between his eyebrows soften when the request pops up on his screen. He looks up at you and grins.

“Because I’m booking you again and I’m gonna need you to keep up with me.”

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging my KNJ hoes: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @e-cm @reliablemitten @miksancheese

#bts fanfiction #namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bangtanbathhouse #btswritingcafe #btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts kim namjoon #bts namjoon #bts rm #knj smut #TheBFE x knj

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months

Note

Hey babes!!! I’ve been on vacay so im trying to get caught up on your post 😂 but i saw your prompt lists and i think 3 5 18 or 19 with LOTS of angst and a happy ending would be AMAZINGGGGG🫠🤍

OMG Hi Bestie!

Remember when I put this prompt list out there? I barely do! It was like 6 weeks ago, that's why! I've been AWFUL and finishing the 500 follower celebration. I got so hung up on finishing Lavender and Beskar Doll and starting Yearling and going on vacation that I still have requests from this sitting in my inbox... and I'm now at 946 followers 🫠🫠🫠

BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST! @encephalitiskat also requested prompt number 3 and I came up with this little non-canon angsty trip outside the QZ for Doc and Joel. I hope you like it!

Lost and Found

You and Joel run into trouble on a run outside the QZ. Based on prompt 3: “I almost lost you.”

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Lavender pairing)

CW: Canon-typical violence. Threat of SA. Minors DNI, 18+ Only.

Length: 2.4k

You tried to avoid winter runs as much as you could. For starters, it was cold. Even after years in Boston, part of you still longed for the warm weather of your college years in Texas. At least your apartment had heat, you could curl up under your quilt with a cup of tea. Sometimes, Tommy would come over and you’d keep each other warm and the cold was suddenly inviting.

But you weren’t at home. No, you were on a run, one that Tess and Tommy had both stayed back from. Tommy had some Firefly thing to take care of, Tess had broken her arm on the last job. That left you and Joel.

Out in the cold.

Outside Boston.

And you were miserable.

“Keep up,” Joel looked over his shoulder at you, scowling, as usual. He was always fucking scowling.

“You have longer legs than me,” you were panting for breath, hot below your heavy coat in spite of the frigid air. “I don’t like being stuck out here with you any more than you like being stuck out here with me but I’d rather not get so exhausted racing through snow that we don’t make it back to Boston.”

“If we’re makin’ it back to fuckin’ Boston alive we need to move faster than you’re movin’ so keep. Up.”

You ground your teeth but tried to listen. Even though you knew you’d get your way before too long. It was going to be dark soon, the sun already low in the sky, and you were at least four hours from the QZ.

Even though that was going to mean another night on the road with Joel.

Joel, who hated you. Fucking hated you. Hated you so much that the last two nights you’d been outside the QZ he glared at you or ignored you entirely. You could feel it pouring off him, the loathing.

You’d thought you’d have gotten used to it by now. But it hurt. It hurt every single time. You’d loved him what felt like your whole life, with your whole being. Even after you found out about what he’d done before he’d come to the QZ, you loved him so damn much that you’d set it aside within yourself. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, all that mattered was that he had made it this far alive and you could forgive almost anything if it led to that.

The hate you could take. Most of the time, anyway. The indifference, though. The total lack of anything in his eyes and on his face, like he was looking right through you, like you didn’t exist. That was worse. That alone, you thought, could kill you.

You tried not to think about it, not to linger on it. It turned your stomach to knots and sent your mind down paths you knew you should avoid, especially when you were outside the QZ and facing the threat of infected and raiders.

It made your guard low. Even when you knew you should pay close attention to Joel’s deaf side - the ear you couldn’t whisper in during the year he could tolerate your presence in the QZ - you didn’t.

Not until it was too late.

You sensed the raider a split second before you felt him, heard him, smelled him. His hand closed around your wrist and pulled you sharply to the ground, his body all but materializing out of the trees beside you, their shadows so long and dark you hadn’t seen him. You hadn’t been paying attention.

“Joel!” You shrieked as you fell. “Run!”

You had a moment where you relieved about his indifference. He’d leave you there if he didn’t care, he’d get out if he didn’t care. You weren’t stupid, you knew you were a vulnerability in situations like this. It’s why he didn’t want to take you to begin with. You dragged him, Tess and Tommy down. Tommy was stupid enough to put himself on the line to keep you safe but Joel, you were certain, would get the fuck out before he was overrun or hurt.

You were wrong.

He spun toward you, his gun raised as three other men came out from the trees. One went right for Joel from the side - when he was too busy focusing on you - and slammed into him, sending him to the ground.

The man who had you pawed at you, pulling at your pack and fumbling for your weapon in your waistband before you had a chance to go for it. He yanked your pack off and you tried to crawl away but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you back, making you shriek again.

“Such a pretty thing,” the man all but fell on top of you, knocking the air out of you. He grabbed your braid and pulled your head back, his teeth against the soft skin of your cheek. “Can think of all kinds of uses for you…”

You slammed your elbow back into him as best you could and he grunted in what sounded like a combination of shock and pain. You were able to shove him off of you and clamber to your feet to see the other three men trying to contain Joel.

You didn’t even think about it, didn’t think about the fact that it was stupid as hell, that you didn’t know how to fight worth a damn, that you’d never killed anything but infected. You just saw Joel, on the ground, overwhelmed, being hit again and again and you acted in the only way you could think to act. You launched yourself at the nearest man, your arms going around his neck until you heard him cough and gag, digging his fingers into your forearms as you clung to him for dear life. You sank your teeth into his neck and he let out a strangled yelp as he tried to dislodge you.

He stumbled back from Joel, you still wrapped around his back, when he gave up on pulling your arms free from his neck. Instead, he reached back and grabbed your shirt at the nape of your neck by the fistful with one hand, your braid with the other, ripping you up and over his shoulder and throwing you like a rag doll into a tree.

“Fucking bitch!” He was panting and you couldn’t seem to get your body to cooperate quite yet. Your head was spinning and you were trying to sit up but everything hurt, everything. You were seeing double and both versions of the man were stalking toward you, freeing the knife at his belt. “Not even worth fuckin’ but I bet your man would hate to hear you scream…”

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Joel shrieked, something unhinged in his voice. You couldn’t get your eyes to focus, everything beyond the man prowling for you jagged and unclear. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, touch her and I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

The man ignored him, going down on one knee next to your place on the ground like some kind of perverse proposal. He smiled and you could see the rot on his teeth.

“Maybe you are worth fuckin’,” he held the knife up. “Just to piss off your boyfriend…”

“He won’t care,” you shook your head, doing your best to scramble back from him, your body still not ready to listen after being thrown and hitting your head. “He’s not my… he won’t care, I’m not worth it, remember?”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, forcing a small yelp from you as he yanked your head back. There was blood on the snow, you realized. Your blood, from where you’d hit your head.

“Startin’ to think you are worth it,” he slid the knife over your coat, cutting it open at the zipper. “Might just need to keep you…”

You kicked and caught him on the side, making him groan and you rushed to pull yourself away as he grabbed your ankle. You could hear the struggle of Joel with the other men and your heart was pounding, the terror thrumming through you.

This was it. You’d been so busy longing for Joel you’d gotten him killed. He was going to die and you were going to end up enslaved by raiders, the exact thing he’d said would happen if you left the QZ. Joel was going to die and it was your fault.

He pulled you back toward him and he forced you onto your back before straddling your hips, his heavy weight pressing you down into the earth and you wanted it to swallow you, wanted to do anything that would make this ending different.

You barely noticed that the struggle with Joel and the other men had gone quiet when the man on you was ripped away from you. He cried out, shocked, and Joel threw him on the ground.

“Told you I’d fuckin’ kill you,” Joel panted, blood dripping from his mouth. He shot the man before he had a chance to respond.

He put the gun in his waistband before he went for you, eyes running up and down your body again and again in the seconds it took to reach you.

You were desperately trying not to panic, trying to not devolve into something that couldn’t handle itself and would just get left in the woods outside the city. You wouldn’t make it back on your own, you didn’t have the skills and you weren’t sure how badly you were hurt.

He dropped to his knees beside you, one hand going to your ribs, the other going to your face, his gloved thumb brushing your bleeding temple.

“Joel,” you couldn’t seem to keep your voice steady. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to swallow. “Joel, if you’re leaving me out here, please give me a gun at least I can’t…”

“Not leavin’ you,” he said. “Need you to tell me how to check for a concussion.”

You opened your eyes again at that, brows knitting together as you looked at him.

“What…”

“Concussion,” he repeated. “C’mon, Baby, walk me through how to check for one…”

“Um,” you had to close your eyes to focus. He was so close, he looked so afraid. “Blurred or double vision, eye strain, light sensitivity, pupils that aren’t dilating properly, eye movement, confusion and inability to focus, loss of consciousness.”

“Right, OK,” he said. He sounded afraid, too, why was he so afraid? It was Joel, it didn’t make sense for him to be this afraid. “Gotta open your eyes for me, Baby, alright? Tell me how many fingers you see, OK?”

You opened your eyes and he was holding up three fingers. You answered and he nodded, looking relieved. He used his flashlight as dusk started to fade to check your pupils. He seemed satisfied with those, too.

“Know who you are?” He asked. “Where you are? Who you’re with?” You nodded. He looked insistent. You sighed and said your name before going down the rest of the list in order.

“I’m outside the Boston QZ,” you said. “With Joel Miller… please don’t just leave me out here, Joel, I know you hate me but…”

“Don’t hate you,” he cut you off. You frowned. He ignored it. “Think you can walk? Not far from a suburb, we can find a place for the night there…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I can walk.”

He pulled you to your feet and you had to lean on him for a moment to catch your balance. But when you tried to pull away, his grip on you remained. He held onto you with one hand, his gun clutched in the other, waiting for someone else to come out of the woods.

“Are you OK?” You asked, looking up at him. “There were so many of them on you and…”

“M’Fine.”

He was still holding onto you.

The suburbs Joel mentioned were close and it didn’t take long to find a house that met whatever standard Joel was looking for. You weren’t arguing. Your head was starting to swim and you were pretty sure it was because you were losing blood.

“On the counter,” Joel ordered once you were both safely inside and he’d locked everything down and closed all the curtains. He put his hands on your waist and helped you up before stepping between your legs to look at your injured head. You tried not to think about it.

“You’re gonna be OK Baby,” he said. He still sounded so worried. You frowned. Why? “Gonna get you cleaned up, patch this up…”

“Joel,” you began, but he cut you off.

“I almost lost you,” he took your head in his hand, his fingers curling around the base of your skull and around your neck as he brought his forehead to your own. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can’t lose you, Baby, I can’t. You gotta stay with me, OK? Please, I’ll beg if I have to but you can’t leave me, not like this, OK? Don’t make me lose you, please. Can’t lose you…”

“Not going anywhere,” you said gently, chest tight. “I promise.”

He pulled back from you with a nod and went about the business of patching you up to get the bleeding at your head under control.

“Joel,” you said as he finished and he dropped his forehead to your own again, his body so close to your own. “I don’t understand…”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ idiot,” he said softly. “I’ve been so goddamn stupid. But I’m so scared, I’m so scared all the fucking time with you. Thought if I pushed you away hard enough and far enough that I could live with it but I can’t… I can’t lose you and I almost lost you and I’m done being a fuckin’ idiot with you. I know I don’t deserve it, I know you’ve got no reason to trust me at all, but… if you can find a way to let me back into your life. I don’t care how, I’ll be whatever you want me to be to you but please, don’t let me lose you. Please, Baby.”

You reached up, running your fingers through his curls, and gently pulled his lips to yours. He kissed you soft and slow and gentle and he still felt like home against your body.

“Can’t lose me, Joel,” you whispered. He nodded against you before kissing you again for a moment before you could continue. “I’m yours. Always have been, always will be.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #follower celebration

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