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wicked-mind · 3 years

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Last Love

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic abuse, swearing.

Note: I wrote this in an hour after a sudden spurt of inspiration. Any mistakes are my own due to the fact it is two in the morning lol. As always, any likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I love that shit (:

Part Two Here

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gifs not mine

You were on your way to class when you felt a grip on your upper arm, pulling you into a janitor closet and shutting the door behind you. Your blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the darkness before seeing the muscular, dark haired man in front of you with a cocky grin that seemed to be permanently on his lips anytime you saw him, “Bucky! What the hell? Class starts in like thirty seconds, I can’t be late again!.” You whined out at him. It was your sophomore year in college and the teacher in the class you had happened to be an asshole of a professor with a god complex and he had humiliated you in front of the whole class the first time you were late.

Bucky grinned down at you, taking a step closer and placing one hand on the shelf behind you beside your head, leaning closer until he could smell your sweet perfume, “I miss you, doll. That boyfriend of yours has been taking up all your time leaving none for me.” He purred out to you before checking the watch on his wrist, “Nine-oh-one. You’re late. Might as well hang out in here with me.”

You had known Bucky since high school and somehow even ended up at the same college which he always claimed was a ‘happy accident’ or ‘fate.’ You didn’t know why, but he was infatuated with you. He was always cornering you against lockers or pulling you into empty rooms to slip out some sly line that always made your heart beat a little too fast and always managed to make you blush. You pulled your notebooks tighter to your chest as he leaned closer, forgetting how to breathe for a moment in his presence. You always felt something for Bucky, and he knew it, but the fact he couldn’t keep himself out of trouble was something that had always held you back from being with him, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend as much time together as we used to, Buck… It’s just Charlie doesn’t really like you very much and I have a lot of studying to do.” Charlie had been your boyfriend for almost a year and he was so unbelievably sweet to you. He treated you like a princess and always gave you the warmest hugs and softest kisses. Well, almost the warmest hugs and softest kisses... There’s only been one other person that had Charlie beat and he was cornering you in a janitor closet.

Bucky chuckles a little at your excuse, shaking his head before resuming to stare into your eyes, “Oh, Y/N. My perfect little Y/N.” He said, lifting his other hand to gently run his knuckles along your cheek causing a shiver to run up your spine, “Do you love him?”

You pondered his question for a moment, slightly lost in those gorgeous blue eyes of his before nodding slowly, “I do, Buck. I really do love him.” You squeaked out. Bucky always made you nervous and your legs feel numb.

Bucky’s grin turned into a sweet smile towards you. He moved his hand that was stroking your cheek to lean on the shelf behind you as well, trapping you against the shelf now with both his arms. He leans his face closer until you could feel his warm, minty breath against your face and his lips were almost brushing against yours, “That’s fine, sweetheart.” He whispers out to you, staring into your eyes with his mischievous blue ones, “He may be your first love, but I intend to be your last. I’ll wait for you forever, doll.”

It had been a year since you graduated with your bachelors degree and also a year since you had seen or talked to Bucky due to Charlie. You had moved in with him right after graduating and that was when it seemed like his personality took a complete 180. He no longer left sweet kisses on your skin or gave you those warm hugs that made you melt. Instead those once sweet touches you craved had turned into violent ones you flinched away from. Charlie drank too much and that was when he was at his worst. He would lose his temper over what seemed small to you but was the end of the world to him. But you felt trapped. You had tried to leave once but he came home from the bar before you managed to slip out the door. He punished you for that, leaving you a shaking mess on the floor in the bathroom with a broken nose and bruises on your ribs.

It was the holiday season and Charlie had told you to decorate the house for a Christmas party he would be hosting tomorrow. You spent your whole day setting up a tree and decorating it as perfect as you could before moving onto decorating the rest of the house. You hung up the stockings on the fireplace and decorated the mantle with little nutcrackers your grandmother had passed down to you before she passed away. Once you were proud of the decorating of the house, you waited and waited for Charlie to get back from wherever he had went, assuming he went to the bar. You stripped out of your clothing and put on some comfy pajama pants and a tank top before pulling your robe over your body. You went to make some tea and sat on the couch, waiting for Charlie to return.

You tried to keep yourself awake on the couch, but slipped off into sleep sitting up with a blanket on your lap and the tv playing some late night television show. You were startled away with a crack, your eyes opening to see Charlie knocking off the nutcrackers from the fireplace and stepping on them one by one, “Charlie, what are you doing?!” You said, launching off the couch and trying to snag one of the unharmed nutcrackers.

Charlie immediately turned his gaze on you, gripping your wrist roughly before you could grab one of the nutcrackers, “What did I tell you?” He growled out, his eyes glossed over and his breath stunk of alcohol as he spoke to you.

“Honey… I decorated… I’m sorry if you don’t like it just… Just tell me what you were thinking and I’ll fix it…” You breathed out, trying your best to put on a smile to calm him. The grasp he had on your wrist tightened, causing you to wince, “C’mon, honey… let’s just go to bed and I’ll fix it all tomorrow before the party, I promise.”

Charlie shook his head at you, making light clicking noises with his tongue, “Oh baby… Why can’t you just get things right the first time?” He mumbled out to you before a harsh slap came across your cheek, making tears fall from your eyes as you whimpered for him to please stop, “You make it so hard to love you.” He said, moving his hand from your wrist to your cheeks, squeezing them harshly before shoving you back hard enough to make you run into the Christmas tree, knocking it over with a loud crash beside you on the floor.

You looked over to see him approaching you with that look in his eyes that you knew so well. He wasn’t going to stop and this wasn’t over. You scrambled to your feet, making a run for the bathroom to lock yourself inside but as you were shutting the door Charlie kicked it open, causing you to fly back against the counter and wince at the pain that shot up your arm when it hit the edge of the hard counter. You sunk to the ground, holding your hands up towards him as if to tell Charlie that you had been defeated, sobbing, “Charlie I’m so sorry… I’m so-“ Charlie cut off your sentence by landing a punch to your cheek before gripping onto your hair and pulling you up to meet his eye line, “You say your sorry every time and yet here we are again. You’re so disappointing and worthless.” He growled out, throwing you by the hair towards the tub which you stumbled over and fell into, bringing the shower curtain and rod toppling down on top of you. He was on you in seconds, slapping you again with the back of his hand where his college football ring managed to open up a large cut on your lip. He gripped the collar of your robe, pulling your face close to his, “I can’t even stand the sight of you.” He growled out before pushing you back into the bathtub. He stood up straight, placing a hand on his hip while the other ran through his hair slowly as he let out a deep sigh, “I’m going out. I expect this all to be cleaned up and when I get back you better be waiting for me in bed.”

You watched him exit the bathroom door with a slam, staying still with tears running down your cheeks until you heard the slam of the front door indicating Charlie had left again. You let out a loud sob, looking around the bathroom. You felt hopeless, worthless… lost. You needed to get out of here, get away from him. You pulled yourself out of the bathtub, wincing slightly when you got to your feet and noticed a large bruise forming on your thigh which you assumed was from when Charlie threw you into the tub. You forced yourself to look in the mirror at the injuries on your face- a nasty split lip, a cut on your forehead from when you were thrown into the tree and landed on the floor, and a bruise already forming on your cheek where he had punched and slapped you. You shook your head at yourself, wondering how you ended up here. Wondering what you had done to make Charlie turn into a monster.

You stepped out of the bathroom slowly on shaking legs, wincing at the pain in your arm and leg as you made your way to the bedroom, still sobbing. You saw your phone sitting on the dresser and the only thing that could pass through your mind is that you needed safety. You needed someone to help you. You needed Bucky. You grabbed you phone and prayed that his number was still the same, clicking his number and holding the phone to your ear.

“Hey, doll.” His voice was still like velvet, rolling off his tongue in a flirty matter and you just knew he had that crooked grin planted on his lips, “Been a while, how you been pretty girl?” You opened your mouth to speak but only a small sob came out of your mouth which made his tone change instantly to worry, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself so you could form words, “Bucky… I need you… I need help…”

You could hear him fumbling around, assuming he was pulling himself out of bed and throwing on clothes, “I’m on the way, just text me the address. I got you, darlin’.”

You breathed out an ‘okay’ before hanging up the phone, sending him a message of your address and slumped onto the floor of your bedroom, gripping the phone for dear life as if it was your only life line. Then you broke. Wailing and crying at the trauma you had endured for over a year and you couldn’t help but feel like Bucky wouldn’t be able to do anything to help you.

You heard the front door open and you fell silent, your body tensing as you wondered if Charlie had returned. You held your breath, hoping that you could just make yourself invisible if you were silent and still enough. Then you heard footsteps coming towards the bedroom in a rush and you looked up to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

Bucky broke just about every traffic law he could on his way over to your house, letting himself in and scanning the rooms for any sign of you. His brow furrowed when he saw the tree knocked over with broken ornaments and nutcrackers on the floor, wondering what had happened. Then he walked into the bedroom and saw you there on the floor, beaten with tears rolling down your cheeks and gripping your phone, “Oh doll, no.” He whispered out, walking over and kneeling down on his knees in front of you. He lifted your chin up and looked at the wounds to your face, “What happened, sweetheart?” His angel, his perfect little Y/N was there in front o him broken and it was breaking his heart.

You could see the anger in his eyes but his tone was nothing but soft and filled with concern. His touch was gentle which was an immediate relief to you, having not been touched gently for so long. You whimpered slightly and closed your eyes, shaking your head, “Bucky… Please… Just get me out of here…” You sobbed out.

Bucky gently ran his finger tips over your cheek, nodding towards you, “I got you, sweetheart. Do you have a bag anywhere?” He asks and you nodded, pointing over to the closet. He stood up and went to the closet, pulling out a suitcase and placing it open on the bed. Bucky came back over to you, kneeling down and taking your hands gently to help you stand, “What do you need?”

“Just… Just some clothes… I don’t know.” You mumble out to him, your body still shaking and you gripped onto him, worried you’d fall.

Bucky nodded, keeping one hand in yours and moving the other around your waist and helped you to sit on the bed, “You just sit here, I’ll get your stuff.” He told you with a small smile before going back into the closet. He grabbed as many of your clothes he could from the closet, quickly shoving them into the suitcase as you stared at a wall still shaking. Once Bucky was done in the closet, he looked around the room for anything else you may need. He went through the bedside draws, grabbing out your journal and throwing it into the suitcase as well as your phone charger. Then he went to the dresser and opened the drawers, pulling out anything that looked like it was yours such as bras, underwear, and some jewelry. Once he had the suitcase full he turned to look at you, tilting your head up to look at him with his fingers on your chin, “Is there anything else you need, sweetheart?” He asks softly and when you shook your head no, he zipped up the suitcase and lifted it by the handle with one hand and outstretched his other towards you.

You shakily take his hand, letting him pull you up from the bed and help you out of the bedroom headed straight for the front door. You pause when you see all the Christmas decorations ruined, releasing his hand and walking over to grab the only nutcracker that hadn’t been broken by Charlie. You pulled it into your chest before going back to Bucky’s side where he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you out of that terrible house and into the safety of his black truck.

Bucky kept his hand in yours for the whole drive, cranking the heat so you weren’t shivering as you were still in your pajamas and robe. He would glance over at you every so often to just see you staring at your bare feet and would give your hand a small squeeze as if trying to ground you. Once he got you back to his house, Bucky helped you through the front door where you were immediately met with familiar faces sitting on the couch watching a football game and drinking beer.

“Oh my god, Y/N?” Steve asked, standing up and walking over to you immediately, looking down at you with a horrified look on his face, “What happened?”

You looked up at Steve and tired to manage the best smile you could, “Hi, Stevie.” You say softly then notice Sam was right behind him and you half smiled towards him before looking back down at the floor, still clutching the nutcracker in your hands.

Bucky noted how uncomfortable you looked, not wanting to talk about what had happened yet, “I’m gonna get her upstairs guys, I’m sure we will have time to catch up later.” He said, giving Steve and Sam a look before leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He set the suitcase down on the floor and watched as you immediately sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the nutcracker in your hands. Bucky moved to sit next to you on the bed, rubbing your back softly, “Y/N, sweetheart, can you tell me what happened? Did Charlie do this to you?”

You kept your eyes on the nutcracker in your hands. At least Charlie didn’t get to your favorite one and you were able to bring it with you. He had red circles on his face for rosy cheeks and a long white beard with blue clothes painted on him and a matching blue hat. Tears hadn’t stopped falling from your eyes since Charlie left, “He just… changed, Buck..” You started, your voice barely above a whisper, “After I moved in with him, he changed. He started drinking a lot more… and then all this…” You lifted a hand to gesture to your wounded face, “All this just… happened. He was upset about how I decorated for Christmas…”

Bucky felt more rage than he had ever felt in his life for what you had been through, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He whispers to you, keeping his voice leveled as he didn’t want you to know how angry he was, “What can I do?”

You looked up into his eyes, scanning his face before looking back down at the nutcracker in your hands, “Can… can you just hold me until I fall asleep?” You ask softly, “I still don’t feel… safe.” Bucky had always made you feel safe even though he was quite the trouble maker. You wished you would’ve just given into your feelings for him then maybe none of this would’ve happened to you. And the way he looked at you… fuck, all those feelings you had for him just came flooding back in like you haven’t seen him for years.

Bucky smiles and nods, “Of course, doll. It’d be my honor.” He told you, “You’re always safe with me, sweetheart. But before we go to bed, why don’t we get you cleaned up?” When you nodded, he stood and left the room coming back with a frozen bag of vegetables, a damp wash cloth, and some rubbing alcohol. He cleaned your wounds on your face, making you hold the frozen vegetables to your cheek to help reduce swelling. Once you were all cleaned up to the best of his capability, Bucky helped you change into some clean pajamas since the ones you had on were slightly torn with spots of blood from your own wounds. It also gave Bucky a chance to assess the large bruise forming on your upper thigh. Once you were all changed, he got into bed with you, tucking the covers over your shoulders.

You stared at Bucky who was staring back at you with a small smile, gently stroking his fingertips along your arm to comfort you. After a few minutes of silence, you decided to speak, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” You whisper to him, “For not talking to you… He made me stop.”

Bucky smiled and shushed you, “It’s okay, doll. You’re here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nod slightly and scooted a little closer to him, leaning your head on his chest though it made you wince at the touch but you didn’t back away, feeling safe and comfortable as he had always made you feel, “You’ve always been my person… Thank you.”

Bucky moved his hand to stroke through your hair softly before kissing your forehead gently, “And I always will be.”

Bucky helped you through a lot over the next six months. At first, you’d flinch whenever anybody made a sudden more towards you or something loud startled you. Bucky was always there right beside you though, taking your hand and leaving kisses along your knuckles to calm you down and let you know it was going to be okay. You stayed in his room, he had made room in his closet and drawers for all your clothes. You slept next to him in his bed everynight, feeling safe in his arms. Charlie had been calling your phone incessantly and one day after sixteen nasty text messages and an awful voicemail, Bucky left with Sam while you stayed in the house with Steve watching cartoons. After that day, Charlie never bothered you again and although you were worried about what Sam and Bucky had done to him, you were grateful to finally be able to move on with your life.

After Charlie had been taken care of, Bucky and you quickly got back into the groove of your friendship. He would flirt with you nonstop, always wrapping an arm around your waist or shoulder and leaving soft kisses on your forehead and nose. He even helped you with your nightmares, pulling you close and waking you up to whisper sweet and comforting things into your ear until you fell asleep again. Bucky grounded you, made you feel special. He was slowly making up for all the things Charlie had done to you, showing you how special you are and all the love you deserved.

You were curled up next to him in his bed, staring at his sleeping face as his arms were wrapped around you. He looked so beautiful laying there asleep that it made a small smile form onto your lips. You’d been kicking yourself the last few weeks mentally for not just giving into him years ago, wondering what your life would’ve been like if you just said yes when he asked you out everyday in high school. You bit your lip gently before whispering, “Bucky?”

“Hmm?” Bucky hummed out to you, keeping his eyes closed but a small smile formed on his lips at your voice.

You studied his features, nervous for your next words, “Did you mean what you said years ago? About being my last love?” You ask softly.

Bucky opened one eye to look over at you when you asked the question, his smile widening and he pulled you closer into his arms and kissed your nose gently, “Of course, doll. Why?”

You smile softly to him, watching him now open both eyes to stare at you curiously, “Because I… I love you. I always have and I’m sorry I wasted so much time not being with you.”

Bucky’s smile turned into that crooked grin that you swear was crafted by god himself, “You mean that, sweetheart?” He purred out to you, “You love me?”

You nodded slowly, “I do. And not just for saving me but everything you’ve always done for me. You’ve always treated me like I was important, worthy of love.”

Bucky shifted in the bed, rolling on top of you and staring down at you lovingly, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say those words, sweetheart.” He said down to you before lowering his face closer to yours, his lips brushing against your jaw softly making you let out a jagged breath at his touch, “Because I have always loved you. And I always will love you. We are meant to be, baby. Just took a little longer for us to get here.” He whispered out against your skin before his lips met yours, kissing you deeply while he brought a palm up to your cheek.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words, thinking it didn’t get better than this. But then he kissed you and it was like fire danced across your skin. Your hands went up to tangle in his dark hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been kissed so affectionately, felt so loved. You kept kissing him, not wanting to waste anymore time without feeling his love. You were finally his and he was yours.

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Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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vicious-vixxxen · 3 years

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Drabble Interest Check #1

So just a quick recap, refer to my previous post for a more in depth explanation- I wanna start sharing some drabbles I write more off of a whim, when idea’s hit me really suddenly, and I just start writing them down, and they never turn into much afterwards. But, I thought if I shared them with you guy’s, maybe they’d prompt some inspo to request more, to turn them into full fics, with a full story- as most of my drabbles spawn from me thinking of one specific scenario, and building off of it a bit until I get to a drabble length- or more, as this one is nearly 2K lol don’t ask me how, I was super into it as I was writing. Or urge me to try and and add a real start and finish to them, so put out as full fic’s myself. I also think these drabbles will give you a guys a better idea of what I like to write, what I'm willing to write, and what I'm open to writing. As my drabbles usually hit more angst and nsfw/kink notes. ‘Problematic’ or otherwise. I’ll add some notes to the end of the fic to give an idea of what I had in mind with this drabble, and go more in depth on that. But here it is, I'm actually very proud of this one, and hope to figure out how to finish it at some point. Established Enji Todoroki X Male!Reader Additionally: Natsuo Todoroki x Male!Reader angst, unrequited love (or is it? ;3))

Shuffling into the kitchen, you grimaced as the carpet turned to cold, hard tile below your feet- wrapping your arms around yourself as you did your best to stay quiet, rummaging around the Todoroki kitchen for some snacks. You’d woken up restless, your stomach growling, and after prying yourself from underneath Enji’s death grip, you’d worked up quite the appetite. The soft sizzle of pork on the stove could be heard soon enough. Not too loud, but that, alongside the soft beeping of the rice cooker, and the delicious scent of your cooking wafting across the lower levels of the house, are what woke Natsuo from a fitful sleep. Rubbing both of his eyes with his fists, Natsuo yawned. Brow lifted in question as he sniffed the air, and checked the clock. Who the hell was cooking at two in the morning?

Legs swinging off the bed, he stuffed his feet in his house shoes, and set off towards the kitchen. Yawning as he went, lifting up his shirt briefly to rub at his stomach, as he came to a stop in the kitchen doorway. The scents pouring out of it pulling a soft moan from his lips, his stomach twisting with want.

Though not just for food anymore. Not when he saw you moving swiftly around the kitchen, like you’d cooked there your whole life. Trying to be silent, but humming under your breath quietly. Clad in nothing but a pair of sleep shorts...and one of Natsuo’s fathers much larger shirts. The younger Todoroki resisted the urge to roll his eyes, ignoring the steering jealousy that raged within him, in favor of whistling lowly, catching your eye, and offering you a shake of his head, and a soft smile as he moved around the island, towards you. You had enough sense to at least look apologetic, though Natsuo quickly shrugged it off, coming around to inspect your cooking briefly, before allowing himself to be dragged into a hug by you. Something he could vaguely recall being off put by, the first time his father had introduced you to them all. Your affection. Your ability to be so close in so little time. Trusting, caring, sweet, kind. Intimate touch of any kind was something Natsuo had rejected all his life- well, when he could start rejecting it- as his own advances for comfort and touch as a child had been snuffed out quickly. Point being, it had taken him a while for him to come around to you being so...hands on, with him. Seeing you be so hands on with his siblings. It settled something, deep within himself, he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge even existed, but it helped. It helped a lot. Though now, Natsuo rationed quietly in his own mind...now maybe he took things too far. His hands slung around your waist, your arms around Natsuo’s neck- hands in his soft, white hair, face in the boy's neck, where it would usually be pressed to Enji’s chest. You and Natsuo were almost the same height, though Natsuo had you beat on mass- taking after his father already, broad shouldered: muscular. Handsome. He was going to be a fine young man some day...he already was, really. An uncomfortable flip of your stomach followed as Natsuo nuzzled into your neck- and you were quick to pull back slowly after, patting the boys chest with a smile, looking up at him through your lashes briefly, before turning to the stove to flip the cuts of pork in the pan. “Are you hungry?” You whispered, almost conspiratorially, grinning as Natsuo blushed, laughing under his breath, before nodding. “Good. Grab two bowls, it’s almost finished.” You both ate in relative silence, only your contented sighs, and Natsuo’s soft affirmations of how good the food was. As always. You even had Fuyumi beat when it came to certain dishes. Though he’d never tell his sister that. When the food was gone, and all that were left were empty plates, you lead Natsuo back to the large family room, adjacent to the kitchen, both of you taking seats on either side of the love seat/ feet tangled together under a blanket you threw over you both, before dissolving into random, half asleep conversation. Stomachs full, bodies warm, and pliable. Your eyes closed as you recalled something from your childhood- natsuo suddenly wide awake, as his eyes drifted down over your neck, counting your freckles, and blushing as His fathers shirt rode down far enough to see some of your chest hair, and the definition between your pecs. God you were handsome, Natsuo thought, consumed with the need to lean over and press his face info your chest. Rip his fathers shirt off of you, and swaddle you in one of his collegiate sweatshirts instead. It would keep you warm so much better. Plus, Natsuo thought suddenly, heatedly: you’d just look good in something of his. The icy blue of Natsuo’s color palette reflected in your eyes. God... “Natsuo?” You called across to him, snapping the younger man out of his daydreaming- a deep crimson flushing down over his pale cheeks, as the younger Todoroki averted his gaze, and rubbed at his neck. “Sorry, I just...I got...I was somewhere else, for a moment. I apologize.” Natsuo finally stuttered out gruffly, staring off at the corner of the wall, trying to calm his thoughts. But they were swarming now, insistent, /fiery/, burning up his chest, and his mind. “It’s alright, I-“ “why-“ Natsuo caught himself, biting his tongue as he cut you off, feeling embarrassed. You paused, smiling and shaking your head as you motioned for the man to continue.

“....why are you with my father?” Natsuo finally asked. Voice soft, hesitant. But firm enough that it was clear he was demanding an answer this time. Because he’d asked this very same question just weeks after first meeting you. When you’d fixed the young man with a knowing gaze, rested a hand on his chest, and simply said “because I like him”. Natsuo couldn’t fathom anyone so much as tolerating his father, let alone liking him. So it was a bit jarring, to say the least. “Do we really have to go over this again?” Ah, Natsuo thought. So you remembered that too. “My father could live a thousand lives atoning for what he’s done, and it would never be enough to deserve someone like you,” Natsuo said, voice heavier now, a little louder, breaking the quiet space you’d created there on the sofa together. Gaze directly on you now. Your eyes. Your gorgeous eyes that looked at his father with such admiration, that it made Natsuo ill sometimes to bear witness to it. “You are not the sole keeper of your fathers misgivings, Natsuo. He hasn’t just hurt you. Whether you choose to see and actively acknowledge the man he’s trying to become, is on you, and I won’t force your hand or try and tell you how you should feel. But don’t question my love for your father, because it’s just that: mine.” You matched the young man's tone, voice even, and soft, yet affirmative- leaving no room for argument. Though Natsuo seemed to want to test that. “So you love the old man then, huh? You really love him?” Natsuo urged, sitting up suddenly, much closer now as you stared. “Not that it is any of your business, but yes, Natsuo, yes. I’m in love with your father, and I see myself living a long and happy life with him. Getting married, settling down, having-“ “having what? Kids?!” Natsuo questioned, eyes wide as he stared at you. You paused, wondering if this was a conversation you should be having with Enji at your side. Natsuo was sweet, and soft spoken- when it was with anyone who wasn’t his father, that is, since that usually resulted in a shouting match between the two. Now though, he was feeling combative apparently- questioning your decisions, which you didn’t appreciate in the slightest. “Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to want to have /children/ with that man?” Natsuo urged, half desperate, half pleading, as he sat up on his knees, nearly towering over you now as you looked down on you. “Watch. Your. Tone.” You warned him, sitting up so you were on even level again, noses nearly brushing as you did so. “Your father may put up with your snippy, accusatory remarks because he thinks allowing you to walk over him will somehow bring you two closer together, but I sure as fuck won’t.” Your cursing nearly made Natsuo flinch out of pure guilt, but he stood his ground. “You’re fooling yourself if you think he’d be any different with your kids. Look at how we turned out! Is that what you want for your own children? A childhood of solicitude and abuse, to feel unwanted, and uncared for? To wonder every night when they go to bed why their father doesn’t love them?! Is that what you want!” Natsuo was shouting now, panic rising in his throat, and you suddenly felt wholly unprepared for this conversation. “I’ll be damned if I allow that sorry excuse of a man and a father, to think about bringing up new children. Robbing you of your chance to have a real partner by your side. Someone to help you care for, and love your children. You...you deserve so much better than him, I don’t understand.” Natsuo was holding back tears now, chest heaving as he breathed, and you couldn’t take it. Gathering him up in your arms, you brought the man in for a tight hug. Cradling him in, and rubbing his back as he began to cry, mumbling nonsense into your neck as you just held him, and closed your eyes, willing back your own tears as you bared witness to something for the first time: the result of Enji’s fathering. Or, your brain offered up weakly: the lack thereof. Even more so...his abuse. Here you were, experiencing the aftermath first hand, and it made your heart hurt so deeply, and your mind race. You wanted to beat the shit out of Enji for doing this to Natsuo, but what could be done about it now? Enji was trying, he was trying so hard every day. But Natsuo was clinging to his hate, and his anger, and his fears, and who were you to tell him he should let them go? At least this way, you rationalized, you could be there for him when they became too much. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Im sorry,” you whispered into his hair, raking your fingers through it as Natsuo shuddered through another sob, and shook his head in your chest. “I'm so sorry, Natsuo. I’m so, so sorry.” He mumbled something then, body tense, refusing to be pulled back to see your face, even as you tried. “What?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to hear him better. “Do you love /us/?” ‘Me’. Do you love me he’d asked first, you realized, and your heart beat sped up as you did your best to squeeze Natsuo impossibly tighter- head in his hair as you nodded. “I love you all so much. Fuyumi, Shoto. I have love for your mother, and for Toya. And I love you, Natsuo, I love you so much. I’m honored to be able to call you my family now. I do love you,” you reassured him, shushing him quietly through a new set of sobs, before tensing when Natsuo suddenly sat up, hot breath and humid, tear stains cheeks ghosting across your face as icy grey eyes met yours. He was nearly panting with the effort to stop his crying, clearly looking for something as he stared at you, before he was leaning forward and smashing your lips together in a heated, desperate kiss.

thus concludes the drabble, now on to the end notes lol

So yeah, that’s it lol, lemme know what you guys think? The plan for this originally was to have some sort of double todoroki x male!reader endgame, where he’d end up with both Enji and Natsuo, by some means. Though not without a fair bit more angst thrown in. Arguments, fighting, etc etc. But I did wanna have them all three be endgame someway or another. Which, yes, would include incest. Whether direct or indirect, cuz one could make the argument they’re sort of just dating the same person, which is also fine- cuz it’s adorable to me, but they’d all be fucking at some point, even if most of the attention is solely on the male reader, it would happen. That’s part of the big reason I wanna do this drabble interest checks, because they give you a glimpse into my problematic mind, and you can decide for yourselves if you wanna stick around and be a part of it, or leave. Not to say poly relationships are problematic in the slightest, of course- I adore poly ships, and hope to write some in the future- but incest? Boy howdy. But I love it sksksk >;3 So lemme know what you guy’s think of this fic! If you want to see it continued, if so, how so? Feel free to ask me anon or otherwise about kink and dynamics, sfw or nsfw, if you’d like too. I’m gonna make an updated kink list with kinks I will be writing about eventually, so you can decide to stick around and see them, or show yourself out so they don’t bother you. My space is mine, so I will not be responding to, or entertaining people who want to be upset about them, or disagree with my tastes. It’ll get you nowhere, telling you right now. But yeah. Lemme know guys. <3 Vixen

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Jealousy

Will Graham x reader, slight Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: talks of murder, corpses, crime scenes

Author’s Note: besties you need to stop giving me freedom to chose the endings because i am SO biased. I hope you all enjoy regardless and didn’t mind that I bunched these two requests together because they’re so similar!

Requested: by anon, Hey i don’t know if you’re still taking Hannibal requests but if you are can you do something where both Will and Hannibal have a crush on the reader? The reader would be the only one who doesn’t know about the two men having a crush on her and one day the reader hangs out alone with one of them (could be Will or Hannibal) and the other gets jealous? It could end in the reader choosing one of them. (your choice)

Requested: by anon, AHHH i’m so nervous to write a request even tho this a anon😅 I never done a request but if you could do something where both Hannibal and Will take an interest in the reader? It could just be a thing where both of them try to impress the reader who remains oblivious to their affections. And during the entire thing they get jealous of each other and try to one up each other in gifts. If you want you could end it with them being polyamorous or the reader choosing one of them, i don’t really care my main focus id just the jealousy lol😅

Summary: the requests!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You nodded gently, putting your fingernail between your teeth. You circled the corpse, giving it a careful eye as Beverly spoke over your thoughts.

“We believe it was murder, obviously,” she said.

“It’s just been a bitch trying to figure out how she was murdered,” Zeller commented. He was sitting on one of the stools, his hands resting on his thighs.

“Keep working on it,” Jack said, hand resting on the cold metal table.

“I think we should try and talk to the mom again. I feel like she knows more than she’s letting on,” you muttered. Will and Hannibal watched you as you moved to the head of the body, looking directly down at it.

“I want to go to the crime scene again,” Will said. You looked up and met his eyes, nodding a bit. You knew the toll that it took on him so you preferred him to offer up his abilities, rather than ask him.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Hannibal asked. Yours and Will’s eyes floated to Hannibal who was standing at the corner of the room. This wasn’t his crime, he wasn’t sure what Will would find.

“I’m sure,” Will said sturtly and then turned around, walking out of the room. Hannibal watched as your gaze followed Will until he was out of sight and then you turned back to the corpse.

“I’ll drive you to the mothers house,” Hannibal suggested. You nodded and took your hands off the metal, walking over to him.

“Thank you.”

The two of you left quickly after that, leaving Bev, Zeller, Price and Jack in the room alone. Beverly pretended to check something on her clipboard before looking up at everyone.

“You all felt that tension too, right?” Overlapped responses came.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“When did that happen?”

Beverly shrugged and learned against the wall. She tried to follow you and Hannibal as you left the morgue but you were already long gone.

“Who do you think she’s gonna pick?” Bev asked.

“I say let the best man win!” Price commented.

“We have a case here lady and gentlemen,” Jack said, pretending he too wasn’t invested. Everyone else shared one more look and then turned around, getting back to their duties.

=====

Hannibal sat promptly in his chair, legs crossed and looking at Will who sat across from him. Will had an open stance as he looked around the room he had been in a couple of times before.

“How was your week? Let’s start there,” Hannibal said gently, prompting Will to start talking. Will was usually filled to the brim with sarcastic comments but he never wanted to delve any deeper than that. Unless he was talking about other people's murders.

“Um, it was fine,” he said, trying to figure out what to say. “Y/N came over last night and made dinner. It was nice to have someone over.” Hannibal was able to mask his feelings very well but Will caught a little bit of disdain.

“That’s nice. Do you see her often?”

“Sometimes. She’s nice and likes to see the dogs.” Hannibal saw you yesterday as well, when the two of you went to interview the mother again. Hannibal offered a nice face to the woman and it ended up getting you somewhere with her.

“She is very kind,” Hannibal commented.

“Do you see her often Dr. Lecter?” Will asked.

“On occasion. She comes over for dinner. She used to be a patient but she’s been doing well.”

“Glad to hear you have some success stories.”

That was the day that Will and Hannibal realized they were competing and they hadn’t known it. They weren’t even sure that you knew it but they understood that the other had feelings for you.

Sure, ultimately it was up to you in the end but it was then they decided they would have to get to you first. Will was a little unhinged and confused. Hannibal was a little insane and unsettling.

Just depended on who was going to be able to play the right cards.

=====

You sat beside Hanniabl at his dinner table. You had a few of the case papers out in front of you, next to your plate of food. Hannibal was flipping through them as well. He was trying to help you out while also getting you to enjoy a nice meal.

You ate the last bite of the food and showed Hannibal one of the pictures.

“Do you think this looks like she’s been dead for a couple of months? I know water can wash away evidence and stuff but it definitely doesn’t look like she’s been dead for months,” you said. Hannibal took the picture from you and looked it over.

“I can’t say I disagree with you.” You took the picture back.

“This is really good by the way. Thank you for letting me intrude on your dinner,” you said laughing a bit. He shook his head.

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoy it, I know it can be an acquired taste.”

“I really enjoy everything you make. How do you say it? It’s growing my pallet,” you said smiling. He nodded pleasantly. It was always nice to make sure people were listening. You looked like you were about to say something else when your phone dinged. At first you ignored it but then it dinged again. “I’m sorry,” you muttered and then picked up the phone. You read a couple of messages and laughter bubbled from your mouth. Hannibal immediately felt a stab of jealousy but it didn’t show on his face. “Sorry, Will just sent me something about the case. I actually have to go see him later tonight, I should probably get out of your hair.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“You’re always welcome here, I hope you know that.” You smiled and nodded but still put the papers together in a neat stack.

“Don’t say that, I’ll abuse my privileges.” You stood up and put the stack of papers in your arms. “Thank you again Hannibal. I’ll call you?” He nodded, standing up as well and taking your plate.

“Of course. Have a nice night and say hello to Will for me.” You nodded and waved as you turned to leave.

Hannibal turned to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. He started to wash them and after a moment he found he had been washing his hands dry.

====

“You really didn’t have to drive me. I can drive myself,” Will said from the passenger seat of your car. You waved him off, shaking your head.

“Please Will, I can drive you around all I want. Plus, I wanted to see Hannibal anyway. Don’t worry I won’t intrude on your session. I brought a book.” You held your book up in front of him and he nodded slightly.

Why did you wanna see Hannibal? He decided not to ask.

You got out of the car and followed Will inside to Hannibal’s office. Hannibal opened the door, as though he had been listening and waiting for your arrival. His smile grew at the sight of you.

“I was hoping to run into you. I boxed some leftovers from last night because you enjoyed them so much,” Hannibal explained.

“You went over to Hannibals’ last night?” Will asked. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so accusatory but it did. You shrugged.

“I went for dinner and he helped me with some case notes.” You remained completely oblivious to the tension in the room. He handed you a box that he grabbed from his desk and you nodded happily. “Thank you so much! I will cherish this,” you joked. You turned to Will. “Have a nice session boys, I’ll be in the car.”

They both nodded and waved goodbye to you as you left the room. The tension did not leave with you.

====

The morgue did not smell any better the next time you were in it. You were alone with just Bev this time as you compared notes on the cause of death. She and the guys were still in the process of figuring it out but it had been a busy couple of days.

“Yeah that’s kind of what Price was saying. I don’t know, I’ll look into it more and get back to you,” she said as you showed her some notes. You nodded and put your notepad back in your bag.

“Alright, keep me posted.” You stood up from your chair and stretched a bit. You and Beverly were pretty good friends outside of work as well so she had been dying to ask you about Hannibal and Will.

“So...how’s it going with Hannibal and Will?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. You gave her a confused look.

“Huh?” She scoffed.

“You’re kidding right?” You gave her a look and she laughed dryly. “You seriously don’t know? Those guys are head over heels for you. Come on, you had to have noticed how jealous they get when you talk to them. It literally fills the room with tension,” she explained. You shook your head slowly. It took you a moment but the realization hit you. You had to sit back down.

“Oh my God, I’ve been so head first in this case I didn’t even notice,” you said, laughing a bit.

“Well! Who’s gonna take the cake? Come on, we’re running bets here in the morgue.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you bet on?” She gave you a look. “Come on!”

“Will,” she fessed up. You stood up.

“Go get your money Katz.” A prideful look went over her face and she nodded.

“Alright then. You better go get your man.”

======

You knocked on Will’s door that night. You teetered back and forth on the porch, wondering if Beverly had been wrong. She could have read the signs wrong. Heck, you read the signs wrong at first. You were about to walk off the porch when Will opened the door, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, blinking quickly.

“Oh my gosh did I wake you? I’m sorry, I am running on case time,” you said, suddenly feeling very apologetic. He shook his head.

“No, don’t worry about it. Do you need something?” You doubted yourself again but figured that if you were going to do it you had to do it now.

“I just...Beverly said something and I...do you wanna go to dinner? Like together? Like as a couple?” You were trying to get the words out so they didn’t sound awkward. Will rubbed his eyes some more and then his hand dropped. He smirked a bit.

“Yeah. I would really like that.”

“Okay! Okay. Good, good. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow once you get some rest,” you said. He nodded happily.

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

You turned around and he shut the door and a wall away from each other. You were both smiling wildly. Will almost called Hannibal and bragged but he went to sleep. He would find out eventually.

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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birdhouse-of-shadows · 3 years

Text

Hello everyone! So here is a fic that I left in my askbox for a hot minute lol. This was all submitted by an anon who you may or may not have seen a few times. This is a compilation of all of the asks and the whole story.

My comments will be in green, any notes from the author will be in blue and the rest will be in the normal text color.

PLEAAASEE be careful if you are sensitive to the following subjects:

Tw: Child Abuse, torture, multiple abusive foster homes, bondage(kinda, quirk inhibiting cuffs), Heavy injury, blood, smoking,

im currently running on no sleep and a bottle of pepsi, sour this is sloppy asf I apologize in advance 😗

im in an angst mood, so i come with this.

Tokoyami’s biological parents abandoned him when he was four. To this day he has no idea why, and has very little memory of them. All of his memories take place in one of the seven abusive foster homes he lived in before he entered U.A.. Over the course of that time, Fumikage has accumulated a large variety of scars, from deep, jagged scars, to cigarette burns, to just really, really bad bruises. Out of all the foster homes he’s been in, none of Fumikage’s foster parents have been fond of mutants, or mutant-type quirks. In several of the foster homes, Fumikage was forced to wear quirk suppressant cuffs 24/7, since his parents “didn’t want a monster running rampant in their house.” Between his mutation, and the violent tendencies of Dark Shadow, Fumikage was basically what nobody wanted in a child. His foster parents would yell every possible derogatory insult at Fumikage, saying he should’ve never been born, even though they weren’t even his real parents. Over time, the verbal abuse would mess with Fumikage’s mind. He’d stare at himself in the mirror, wondering why he was born the way he was, and why he’s the monster everyone says he is. And just when he thought the verbal abuse couldn’t get any worse, as he got older, his foster parents would resort to physical punishment. At first, it wasn’t that bad, at least, in Fumikage’s eyes. Just a slap here and there, plus some cigarette burns on his arms and shoulders. It was painful, but he fought through it, knowing no one would come to help him. But over time, the “discipline” would get even more brutal. It doesn’t matter what he did, every little thing seemed to set his parents off. From accidentally breaking something, to giving a snide comment unannounced, it wasn’t often that Fumikage went to bed at night without being beaten sometime before then. He would be pinned down by his throat and violently beaten with whatever blunt object was nearby. He eventually gave up trying to apologize, as it somehow only upset his parents even more. Once, when he was eleven years old, Fumikage was beaten with a glass vase after pushing one of his foster siblings. The glass eventually shattered, and the broken ends of the vase dug into Fumikage’s back, leaving horrible, jagged cuts all over him. Witnessing Fumikage being beaten day after day made Dark Shadow feel overwhelmingly guilty. Fumikage was in quirk suppressant cuffs ninety percent of the time, so Dark Shadow was pretty much helpless in most situations. Those damned cuffs made it feel like an invisible wall was put up between where Dark Shadow resided, and the outside world. A wall that agonizingly sat between Dark Shadow, and Fumikage’s safety. There were nights when Fumikage lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, his body numbed by pain. Whether he was laying in a bed or not, unfortunately varied by foster home. But it was on those nights where Dark Shadow would apologize profusely to Fumikage, saying that they’re nothing more than the monster that brought misery to Fumikage’s life. Saying that they’re the reason Fumikage gets beaten so often, and yet do nothing to help him. They vow that once they’re in a safer home, away from their abusers, that they will always protect Fumikage. Always. But by then…Fumikage had already fallen asleep.

Overall, Tokoyami’s home life…was nothing worth smiling about. Thankfully, his time at school was less painful. He often got comments about his looks, saying that he was ugly and all that, but by then, he was more than used to it. Eventually, he faded into the shadows (no pun intended) at most of his schools. He eventually was just forgotten about, which truthfully, didn’t bother him. It was a bit lonely, sure, but it was much better than constantly being beaten simply for existing. In Fumikage’s eyes, school was just a break from his disastrous home life. Though, he tended not to talk during class, and had very little interaction with his teachers, for…reasons. Even so, it was actually during his first year of middle school where Fumikage discovered his dream of being a hero. Just because he was spared from the excessive discrimination of mutants, others happened to be less fortunate. Fumikage would witness how his fellow mutants were treated by others. They had their work stolen, their bags dumped out, over were overall just treated like dirt compared to everyone else. So anytime Tokoyami saw a fellow mutant, or anyone really, being bullied, he’d go and help them, telling them that they don’t deserve to take shit for the way they look, or what their quirk is, and that quirks don’t make villains, it’s how those quirks are used, meaning that the people bullying them are more like villains than they will ever be. With his newfound motivation, Tokoyami decided that he wanted to become a hero to show others that they don’t have to fear who they were born to be, or, as he put it, “To not be daunted by their inner darkness. Instead, to embrace such, and with it, become your best self.” Love that for him honestly. One of the students he helped was a tall, slim girl with a head reminiscent to that of an elephant, her most notable feature being her long trunk that was about the length of her entire upper body. She was shy, and avoided any sort of conflict like the plague. At one point she was harassed by another group of girls, before Tokoyami came and stopped them. He gave his long winded, motivational speech to her, and saying she was grateful was quite the understatement, and the next day, as a thank-you gift, gave Tokoyami a red choker, saying that it was just like the one Dark Crystal wore, knowing how much Tokoyami admired the hero. (In other words, he never shut up about him) Tokoyami relayed his gratitude countless times to her, and the two agreed to become friends, even though they wouldn’t see eachother often. Reluctantly, the girl also pointed out the horrible scars and bruises on Tokoyami’s neck, and figured that he’d want to cover them. Tokoyami stiffened at the mention of his scars, but continued thanking her anyway. The two often saw eachother in the halls and waved at one another, on friendly terms, but strangely enough, they never spoke again.

It was also around that time that he became more interactive with Dark Shadow, and began to explore more darker concepts. He founded a love for reading, specifically horror novels and manga. He also became fascinated with poetry (specifically the edgy variety), both reading and writing it. He found that writing poetry gave him an outlet for expressing both himself, and Dark Shadow’s feelings, without having to risk angering his foster parents. Eventually, the tone found written by his favorite poets began to make its way into Fumikage’s speech patterns. He felt more comfortable with it, and it wasn’t something people easily understood, which ultimately meant his foster parents would just ignore him, thinking he was going through an emo phase. And miraculously, it worked. Although he was still physically and verbally abused throughout his middle school years, his foster parents eventually backed off, as Fumikage became more introverted. Now, he’d look in the mirror at all of his scars, and use his past trauma as motivation for becoming a hero. Though, it wasn’t easy. Those painful memories would always come flooding back whenever he looked at those scars. Since he spent most of his life surrounded by abusive adults, he believed that most adults were the same way, and refrained from speaking with adults at all, in fear of angering them. Hearing them yell would make him flinch out of pure instinct, and being stuck alone with an adult would make him an anxious mess. But he did his best to mask this fear with the brooding, edgy side of him. It was his best, and pretty much only way of coping with this fear. He tried his best to overcome his anxiety, but it was never that easy. But he managed to get through middle school mostly unscathed.

And finally, after three agonizingly long paragraphs, Fumikage makes it into U.A.. Of course, that didn’t exempt him from any of his current foster parent’s rules. He had to keep quirk cuffs in his bag at all times, and if he came home without them on, he would be beaten. Tokoyami remained obedient, not wanting to show up to his first day at U.A. beaten half to death. Armed with his scars, his motivation, and of course, Dark Shadow, Tokoyami entered U.A with confidence. And everyone… was so nice???? Almost immediately after he sat in his designated seat in class 1-A, people came up to him, talking to him. He met a variety of different students, some more…mellow than others. But overall, he liked his class. But the teacher? Well…not so much. In Tokoyami’s eyes, the man who dubbed himself their homeroom teacher, Mr. Aizawa, was completely and utterly terrifying. ‘He probably has a machete hidden in that sleeping bag ready to kill us at any moment-‘ Dark Shadow said on the first day. Tokoyami couldn’t help but agree. But not in a comedic way. Something about Aizawa was all too reminiscent of one of his foster fathers, specifically the one who gave him all of the scars on his back, after beating him with a glass vase. Any time he was around him, he was anxious. But eventually, little did Fumikage know, this man who he deemed “terrifying” would eventually become one of the people he trusted the most.

okay okay I’ll stop for now, I’ll write more eventually, but I’ll wait until this is answered so I won’t be flooding your asks, and I promise I will never submit anything this long ever again 😖

part 2 yee yee

also, as you can tell, i have heavily observed canon, and elected to ignore it :)

Fumikage’s year so far was hectic. No, scratch that. It was hellish. It seemed like everywhere the class went together, they were attacked by villains. Aizawa seemed to be getting more and more tired by the day. Fumikage didn’t blame him, as he had a class full of trouble magnets. But following the skirmish at the forest training camp, and All Might’s retirement, things seemed to be looking up, at least a little bit. However, there was rumor going around that U.A. was planning to implement a form system, leaving Fumikage with mixed feelings. One on hand, he was ecstatic. He could finally, even if it was just for a short time, get away from his foster home. The training camp incident left Fumikage shaken more than he’d like, and having to deal with verbal abuse at the hands of his father wasn’t doing him any favors. After being released from the hospital, his father berated him four what felt like hours after hearing that he’d lost control of Dark Shadow. The day he got home, without any second thought, his father grabbed him by his shirt collar (which hurt more than it should have due to the fresh bruises on Fumikage’s back) and mercilessly screamed at him. Even though it only lasted about ten minutes, it felt like forever. He was forced to stand just inches away from his father, the thick smell of cigarette smoke emitting from his breath. Dark Shadow shrunk within him, trying desperately to drown out the heinous comments that they’re directly responsible for. Following the “lecture”, as his father like to call it, Fumikage was put back into his quirk cuffs, but this time, as what his parents described as a “precaution”, he had a thick, tight quirk suppressant collar locked around his neck. It dug through Fumikage’s skin, and it felt like he was being strangled. Even so, just like everything he’d been through up to that point, he had to bear with it. He tiredly trudged back to his room, or, well, it was a linen closet. He had a small pile of blankets that acted as his bed, as well as several books lined up neatly against the wall. He’d read most of them several times already, but other that his phone, it was pretty much his only source of entertainment. The closet was always freezing, and he was rarely allowed out. But Fumikage always forced himself to be grateful for having a roof over his head at all, since he knew there were always going to be people who were less fortunate. With a sigh, he lay down on his small pile of blankets. He curled up within himself, trying his best to keep warm. Normally, one of his siblings slip whatever packaged food their parents gave them under the door. It always tasted like it went bad two weeks ago, but at this point, to Fumikage, fuck it, food was food. But much to his dismay, Fumikage’s parents told him that he was “on punishment”. And while on punishment, he knew well enough, that they refuse to feed him. Over the last 18 months that he’d been living in that foster home, he’d been on punishment five times, and during that time, he lost a very unhealthy amount of weight, and his overall health tanked. But, like he said for every terrible thing that’s befallen him over the past 12 years, he was used to it. So, Fumikage went the next three days without eating a single thing.

But it was after those three days, when Fumikage’s life changed. Whether it was for better or worse, he was forced to wait and see.

One morning, or…was it evening? It was hard to tell when you’re stuck in a dark linen closet with no sense of time whatsoever. But anyway, Fumikage woke up shivering, not that he wasn’t used to that. But he did hear the faint sound of his parents talking. However, there was one other voice. Fumikage’s hearing wasn’t the best, with him being a bird and everything, but he knew that voice. He knew that voice from anywhere. It was Aizawa’s. Fumikage forced himself up. His back was stiff, and the thick collar around his neck weighed him down. His stomach was begging for food, but that wasn’t important. He smoothed out his feathers best he could, and quietly opened the closet door. He could hear Aizawa conversing with his parents, and they talked about the newly constructed dorms. Aizawa explained that for the Fumikage’s safety, he requested that Fumikage lives in a secure dorm system. He’d have his own room, full access to a kitchen full of food, and of course, he’d have a common space to mingle with his peers. To Fumikage, it sounded like heaven, but unfortunately, his parents weren’t having it. They went on and on about how Fumikage would put his peers in danger with his destructive quirk. Aizawa, thankfully, wasn’t willing to put up with them either. He went on to tell them about how Fumikage has excelled with the control of Dark Shadow. Fumikage felt a warm feeling in his stomach after hearing his teacher, that same one he’s so afraid of, speak so highly of him. But there was one thing that left Aizawa’s mouth that his parents really couldn’t respond to. “Well, why not let Fumikage have a say in this? Where is he?” he asked them. There was something about his teacher’s tone that showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. Fumikage looked down at himself. He was still wearing the same black long sleeved shirt and blue jeans that he’d worn three days ago. His quirk cuffs were tight around his wrists, and his collar, though he’d gotten used to the feeling, was madly uncomfortable around his neck. He had two choices. Go down there and let Aizawa witness firsthand the extent of Fumikage’s constant neglect, and risk being punished even further by his parents, or play it safe, and potentially let Aizawa find him on his own. But…the world was never that nice to him, so instead, Fumikage heard an irritated sigh, and footsteps coming up the stairs. Hurriedly, Fumikage shut the closet door and sat back down against the wall. Just moments later, he watched the closet door open, and felt his father’s sultry gaze fall on him. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up to his feet. He took the cuffs off of Fumikage, and let them fall to the floor. Before taking off the collar, he leaned down, glaring daggers at his foster son. “You say anything out of place boy, and I reopen those cuts on your back, god help you.” he said in a low growl. Fumikage stiffened, the memory of jagged glass tearing his skin open flashing through his mind. He nodded, and took a breath of air as the collar was removed. He really didn’t care that all he breathed in was cigarette smoke. That feeling of being strangled by a metal collar was finally gone, even if just for a little while. His father grabbed his wrist, and dragged him down to the living room, where Aizawa sat across from his mother.

Aizawa knew right away that there was something seriously off. Tokoyami had a few feathers out of place, and his shirt hung limply over him. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week. But what pisses Aizawa off the most, was something Tokoyami was clearly trying to hide, and that was the dark ring of bruises around his wrists. He really needed to confront his student about how these two were treating him. But for now, he just needed to get the kid to agree to move into the dorms. He watched the avian teen sit down between his two caretakers. The boy looked very uncomfortable, almost afraid. Aizawa felt his gaze soften upon seeing his student in the state he was, but he had to do what he came here for. So he directed his gaze to Tokoyami, and asked him his thought of moving into U.A.’s dorms. It concerned him hearing how fast Tokoyami answered. “I’d be glad to.” He responded almost instantly. “It would be a great opportunity to get to know my peers better, no?” He looked to his mother, who gave him an irritated look. Aizawa held back a smirk. The kid had a way with words, that was for sure. Aizawa cleared his throat, and spoke up. “Well, it seems he’s all for it.” he said, looking at the two adults in front of him. They looked very unamused. The boy’s mother rubbed her temples, and sighed. “Fine, fine.” she grumbled. “But if Fumikage has any issues with behavior whatsoever, so let us know.” She said, giving her son a pointed look. Aizawa nodded, and stood up. “I doubt that will be an issue, he’s very well behaved.” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes fell to his student. He once again noticed the loose feathers sticking out from the sides of the boy’s head. There were only about two or three, but Aizawa took the initiative anyway. He leaned down toward Tokoyami, and smoothed out his feathers carefully. The boy stiffened, but relaxed. Once Aizawa was satisfied, he stood back up. Tokoyami brought a hand to the side of his head, and gave Aizawa a dumbfounded look. The man gave him an amused look, and turned around toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few days, Tokoyami.” he said, laying his hand on the doorknob. The teen nodded in response, and Aizawa left the house.

As soon as he shut the door, Aizawa clenched his fists. Of course he noticed Tokoyami’s disheveled-looking appearance. But there was one thing, one tiny little thing, that Tokoyami did. Since the moment he sat down, to the moment Aizawa left. Tokoyami rested one arm on his leg, and began tapping his knee. Aizawa didn’t think much of it at first, but then he remembered something he learned while he was still in training. Whenever someone did that, no matter the age, it was a warning sign. Tokoyami was trying to get his attention the entire time.

There was something seriously wrong.

And that’s it for part two I suppose. I feel like this part is significantly worse than the last one, but when it comes down to it, consistency isn’t my thing 🙃

i forgot to proofread part two before submitting it so uh….if there are typos to there aren’t <3

Its perfectly fine!! I never saw them~

part 3 let’s goooo

After Aizawa left, Fumikage relaxed his hand over his knee. He really hoped his teacher noticed his warning sign, but whether he did or not, he was still stuck with his parents until he moved into the dorms. A sudden wave of unease fell over him. He knew his parents were staring him down. And he knew they were not happy. He took at deep breath, and met his father’s gaze. The man’s eyes narrowed. “You got somethin’ to say, brat?” he spat through gritted teeth. Fumikage shrugged. He knew he wouldn’t be living with his foster parents for much longer, which made pushing their buttons much more tempting. He held back a smirk. “Me? Oh no. Although, judging by that look on your face, I figured you’d have something to say, no?” the teen hummed. He rested his elbows on his knees, and tilted his head. Fumikage watched his father’s eyelid twitch. It was quite amusing, really. “Just get your ass upstairs, brat. I don’t want another goddamn word outta you.” The man hissed. “And put your cuffs on too.” Fumikage let out a sigh, but nodded anyway. He’d best be obedient now, since, if possible, he’d like to make it to U.A.’s dorms in one piece. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, before trudging back upstairs to his “room”.

After closing the closet door, Fumikage took another look at the cramped area he’s forced to call his bedroom. For the last eighteen months, he was stuck in this hellhole of a house. He had felt more alone than any other point in his life, even with Dark Shadow around. He had no freedom in this house. Hell, he can hardly think of a time he’s ever had any freedom throughout his life. He’s been chained down, locked in cages like an animal, abused in pretty much every way possible…he hated it. More than anything. For most of his early life, it was hard for him to tell if Dark Shadow was really his quirk, or just a voice in his head, given how rarely the two would be allowed to see eachother. But to Fumikage, quirk or not, Dark Shadow was his closest friend. His only friend. And the idea of them getting an entire room, bed and all, just to themselves, with no restrictions, made Fumikage feel more excited than he had ever felt before. Fumikage put a hand to his chest, letting out a relieved sigh, and couldn’t help but smile. Even if it was just for a little while, he, alone with Dark Shadow, could finally be free.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Fumikage’s eyes eventually fell to his quirk cuffs, laying menacingly on the pile of blankets before him, his collar just a few inches away. He felt Dark Shadow stir restlessly within him, not wanting to be trapped by the cuffs. Even though Dark Shadow never got the chance to come out while they were off, it felt liberating to not be bound by what was, in the long run, thick pieces of metal. They’d felt more relaxed for those tense twenty minutes during the conference then they had been throughout their entire time living there. But they knew, for Fumikage’s safety, that, at least until they moved into the dorms, that the cuffs had to stay on. With a sigh, Fumikage grabbed the cuffs, and, after lining them up with his already existing bruises, snapped them shut. Dark Shadow felt like chains held them back the second the cuffs came on. They let out an agitated whimper deep within Fumikage. The teen sighed, bringing a hand to his chest. He hated when his quirk felt like this, but he knew it would all be over soon. He picked up the collar, feeling the cold metal in his hands. With a huff, he threw it aside, and sat down against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling, and reached deep within himself. It was faint, but he managed to connect with Dark Shadow. “Just a few more days, Dark Shadow…” he whispered. “It’ll all be over soon. Not for long, but…things will lighten up. I promise.” That promise was a bit of a stretch, in Fumikage’s opinion. But it would be that promise that got them through the next few days. Fumikage laid down on his “bed”, and reached for one of his books. He didn’t care which one, since he’d read them all about a million times each, but he just needed a distraction. The book he’d ended up grabbing, he knew was more philosophical than he would’ve preferred, but hey, he wanted a distraction. So he opened the book, and proceeded to read.

Fumikage had gotten about 90 pages in before he heard the lock on the closet door rattle. The door swung open, letting a wave of light into the room. Fumikage looked up from his book, and low and behold, his father stood over him, an angry look on his face, as always. “Can I help you?” Fumikage asked, laying the book down on his lap. The man in front of him snorted. “Get up, brat. It’s bath time.” he said, an amused tone in his voice. If he could, Fumikage would’ve raised a brow. That tone in his father’s voice was never a good sign, but Fumikage didn’t have much of a choice. So he laid the book aside, and stood up. His father grabbed his wrist, and dragged him out of the closet. Fumikage had no idea what his father meant by “bath time”, but as the two walked directly passed the bathroom, Fumikage knew, that his parents had something else in mind…

and that’s it for part 3. i never actually have a set plan for these, i just go until I feel like stopping. These also aren’t written beforehand, I just chill in your asks for an hours writing these, making things up as I go along. I basically treat it like my notes app lmao

I'm glad my ask box has served well as your notes app! Just be careful that things save!!

part 4. this was so fucking hard to write you don’t understand 😭 and im too tired to proofread this shit so if you see typos no you don’t. enjoy.

You're doing great!!

Trapped within his father’s grip, Fumikage nearly tripped as he was dragged down the stairs. Being dragged around like a rag doll was uncomfortable enough already, but having thick quirk cuffs clamped around his wrists, digging into his skin, made the whole ordeal more painful rather than uncomfortable, but either way, whatever his parents had in store for him, like always, Fumikage wasn’t looking forward to.

Before Fumikage knew it, the two were in the kitchen. A metal bucket sat in the kitchen sink, hot water running into it. Next to the sink stood his mother, a sultry grin on her face. Thick clouds of steam rose from the basin, and suddenly it hit him. Fumikage’s breath hitched, and he froze in place. He stumbled back, pressing himself against the wall behind him. His father let out a low chuckle. “What’s the matter brat? You were all smug n’ shit earlier. Where’d all that giddiness go?” He asked, leaning toward Fumikage. The man gave a sultry grin, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke into Fumikage’s face.

Fumikage’s eyes fell to his mother, who had her hand laid against the bucket. The painful reality all started coming together. Much quicker than Fumikage would’ve preferred, given that he’s on the receiving end of yet another one of his parent’s grueling “punishments”. His mother had a heat quirk. Not fire, but heat. She could alter the heat of any object she touches, reaching heats of up to 315 degrees celcius. Fumikage has been burned before. Several times actually. It hurt like hell, but nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the searing, agonizing pain of being touched by anything heated by his mother’s quirk. And here he was, backed into a corner, at his parent’s mercy.

He knew what was coming. As much as he hated what was about to come next, there was no getting out of it. Not with both of his parents right in front of him. As Fumikage watched that bucket of water begin to boil over, and his mother’s grin grow wider. he felt Dark Shadow begin to tremble within him, helplessly. He could feel his hands begin to shake, and without even having to look, he could hear his father chuckle in amusement.

Fumikage clenched his fists. He couldn’t just submit himself to his parents so easily. But then again, at the end of the day, he was helpless. As always. There was no escape, because when has there ever been? Fighting back was pointless. It always has been. Because to him, this wasn’t torture. This wasn’t abuse. To him, this was just another punishment. Another, grueling, agonizing, painful, god-forsaken punishment.

He was used to this.

Fumikage felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He looked up at his father. What was this sudden burst of emotion? Fumikage had never felt like this before. Was it anger? Fear? Whatever it was, it made his head spin. Either way, he planned to use his sudden rush of negative energy for something he should’ve done months ago. And the consequences that came with it?

Fuck the consequences.

A twisted, pained smile forced it’s way to Fumikage’s features. Tears rolling down his cheeks, he locked eyes with his father. “Sick bastard.” he muttered. “You know I’ll be out of this hellhole in two days, so you take every opportunity you have to put me in as much pain as possible.” Fumikage wiped a tear from his eyes with his sleeve. “Sounds like you’re getting desperate, wouldn’t you agree?” Fumikage grinned upon seeing that irritated look wash over his father’s face. Oh, how much he loved that look.

Over the years that Fumikage has been in foster care, he was never liked by this parents. They blamed it on his violent quirk. Funny enough, almost none of them had even seen his quirk. Fumikage never got around to asking about that, since a lot of the time, talking ended up getting him in trouble. Looking back on it, Fumikage realizes just how stupid it was. Talking, of all things, got him in trouble. What was next? Breathing?

And this foster home was no different. If he “talked out of place”, as his father liked to put it, he was punished. It was hard to decipher exactly what was considered talking “out of place”, since it seemed like nearly everything Fumikage said warranted punishment. So eventually, he opted not to speak at all. But there were always those times, now included, where talking back just felt so right. When Fumikage is finally able to stand up for himself, despite the inevitable consequences that came with it.

And boy, were there consequences.

Before he knew it, Fumikage’s head was slammed against the wall behind him, beak first. With how sensitive his beak was, that pain rung throughout his brain, dazing him. Then he was kneed in the stomach, three times actually, right on one of his fresh bruises. Fumikage let out a choked sob as his breath left him. Even if it only lasted seconds, Fumikage felt as though he were suffocating. And as much as he hated the feeling of air leaving him, that just so happened to be the least painful thing he experienced that night.

Through his pain, Fumikage caught a glimpse of something shiny. Because of course he would. It looked to be metal, with a sharp tip. In his dazed state, he could only guess that it was his Father’s six-inch knife. And right he was, because that exact knife tore down the back of his shirt, exposing all of the scars that littered his back. Pinning him against the wall, his father ripped off his shirt, before kicking him to the cold hardwood floors. Just as Fumikage attempted to sit up, he felt another hard kick to the back of his head. The teen brought his hands to his head almost immediately, gripping tightly at his feathers in an attempt to ease his head’s throbbing pain. But at that moment, Fumikage realized, he had let his guard down.

Just seconds later, he felt it.

That agonizing, searing pain.

All over his body.

He let out a gut-wrenching scream as he felt blisters rapidly forming all over his back and arms. He found himself clawing at his arms, in a desperate attempt to ease the stinging pain, only for thin, deep cuts to form on his pale skin. He felt his quirk cuffs reacted to the heat, getting ever more tighter around Fumikage’s thin wrists. Any and all obscenities his parents threw at him were drowned out by this unbearable pain. Through his sobs, Fumikage began to wonder, was it really worth it? Was it ever worth it? He almost didn’t care. He just wanted it all to be over.

He just wanted the pain, the suffering, the torture, all of it, he just wanted it to go away.

Once the pain died down to the point where it was at least bearable, Fumikage forced himself up on his hands and knees, struggling to keep himself stable on the wet hardwood. Between both the burns, and the quirk cuffs nearly suffocating his wrists, his hands were blistered and swollen. Fumikage locked eyes with his father, who looked down at him, satisfied with his work. Fumikage’s breathing was slow and heavy, as he tried to fight through the pain. “Is…is that all you got?” he managed to choke out. “Two kicks and some hot water? Is that your last line of defense? Seems pretty lackluster if you ask me.” His entire body trembling, Fumikage managed to get to his feet. Steam emitted from his entire upper body, and he was throbbing with pain. That satisfied look on his father’s face suddenly turned to one of pure rage. Without a word, the man walked toward Fumikage, his knife in one hand, and empty glass bottle in the other. Pressing any further in this situation, with this many injuries, Fumikage knew, would be incredibly risky. But then again, heroes are supposed to take risks.

Fumikage forced his beak back into that same twisted grin he wore before, but this time, it was more reluctant. Either way, there was no turning back now.

“Bite me.” he muttered through gritted teeth.

It went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. But that silence was short lived.

Fumikage heard the deafening sound of glass shattering. There was a sudden flash of bright light, leaving as quick as it arrived, and Fumikage’s world became black.

i dont plan on writing any more violent scenes, simply because they’re hard asf to write lmao, so the next part is basically an unneeded time skip because im lazy <3

I'm sure whatever you will write will be perfect!!!

part 5 bitches. or is this part 6? idk this feels like a part 6. anyway proofreading is out the window, it was a long time ago, but either way this might look at but messy. fuck it it’s 3am idc anymore. enjoy.

Fumikage’s eyes opened. His eyelids felt heavy, and his back was stiff, but other than that…he felt no pain. He sat up and looked around. He wasn’t in the linen closet. In fact, it didn’t look like he was in his foster home at all. He looked to be in an apartment. It was on the small side, but it felt…comfortable. The furniture wasn’t dusty, and the air was free of cigarette smoke. Beneath him, was a dark grey couch. He had to have been sleeping on it for a while, as he had shed a single feather onto the fabric of the couch. But either way, Fumikage somehow felt…safe.

Then, he caught something from the corner of his eye. Well, not something, rather, someone. A tall figure, their face and body obscured by shadow, stood in the doorway to the kitchen. The figure began to walk toward him. Their hands were tucked into their pockets, and they stalked toward him, almost tiredly. It felt so…familiar. But Fumikage’s world felt fuzzy. It was hard to tell if what he was seeing was even real. The figure kneeled down in front of him their obscured face looking him in the eyes. He watched their lips move, but there was no sound. Fumikage wanted to speak, but all he heard was his own confused, stuttered breathing.

The figure tilted their head, and their eyebrows furrowed. They reached a hand behind Fumikage’s head, ruffling his crown feathers gently. The figure spoke again, yet Fumikage was still met with silence. The figure’s face, as far as Fumikage could see, was painted with concern. But before Fumikage could make another attempt to speak, another figure appeared from a hallway. They were taller, slimmer, and just like the first one, their body and face was completely obscured. The second figure came over, kneeling next to the first, trying to get Fumikage to say something. Anything. But the world around him was completely silent.

Fumikage felt his vision blur at the edges. What was happening? Who were the people in front of him? Why did they look so worried? His mind was runny by a mile a minute, not knowing where he was, who he was with, and why any of them were there. Fumikage looked around desperately for anything that could pose as a distraction. In the midst of his panic, he saw one of the figure’s shadowy hands reach toward him. Fumikage swatted at the hand and tried to back away, but instead was blocked by the back of the couch. His gaze went back toward the two figures in front of him. Once again, one of them reached toward him, carefully grabbing his arm. The touch felt cold, and staticky, much like how Dark Shadow felt. Fumikage squeezed his eyes shut, and he felt tears run down his cheeks, afraid of what’s to come next. But, much to his surprise, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, holding him tight. Through the haze, Fumikage could finally make out what this person was saying. It was a faint, hollow echo that rang through his ears. “It’s okay, kid. You’re safe.” They said.

Fumikage’s breathing slowed as he lay his head on the figure’s shadowy shoulder. “I’m…safe…” he repeated, almost hypnotically. Then he heard the second figure join in. “That’s right. You don’t have to be scared anymore. You’re in a new home, with a new family.” they said. Their voice was slightly higher, and had a softer tone to it. But those words…

Fumikage lifted his head slightly, just enough to see over the figure’s shoulder. His vision was hazy, and he felt as though he were in a trance.

“Family…” Fumikage whispered. That word…that word alone. ‘Family’. It just felt so…right. As though what Fumikage saw as paradise was finally coming to pass. He felt tears well up in his eyes. But unlike before, he felt tears of relief. For the first time in what felt like years, he really felt safe. Fumikage lifted an arm, and whipped away his tears with his sleeve. When his vision cleared, yet another figure appeared. However, this one was…small. Then Fumikage realized, it was a child. His head tilted as the obscure figure carefully walked over to him. They kept their hands in front of them, almost as if afraid to hurt him. Although Fumikage had relaxed, he still felt dazed, and somehow, his movements almost didn’t feel like his own.

Just like when he reached his arm out toward the child. They were just barely out of reach, but in response, they brought both hands to Fumikage’s, and a smile came to their obscured face. They looked…happy. And for the first time in what Fumikage felt like forever…so did he. He felt a small smile form on his beak. He hated kids. Normally, anyway. But right now…this wasn’t so bad.

He felt the older figure pull away from him, still carefully running their hand through his feathers. The second also leaned back, relaxing a bit. Fumikage lay back against the couch with a sigh, before looking over the three figure’s one last time. Was this really his family…? Hell, whether they were or not, he could get used to it. He just couldn’t help it. After years of pain, years of terror, a family, a kind, loving family, was what Fumikage had always dreamed of.

He eventually felt his eyelids, as well as his whole body, become heavy. He felt his grip on consciousness slowly slip, the world around him slowly swirling into a dark grey void. That same word echoed through his mind throughout, becoming more faint each time he heard it. Family. family….family….

Fumikage’s eyes slowly opened one last time, but this time, he didn’t just feel tired. He felt cold, he felt sore, but above all…he felt uneasy. That cold, painfully familiar feeling washed over him. And painful it was. The second he dared to move, Fumikage felt a sharp pain up his back. He sighed, letting his body relax. He looked up at the ceiling, but couldn’t stop the tears from forming in his eyes.

He was home.

and that’s it. i feel like i use too many commas, but fuck it im sleep deprived i do what i want :D anyway the next part will be done…whenever the fuck i feel like writing it idk lmao

Please sleep, you're doing great!! I too suffer from overuse of commas, but I don't think they hurt too much!!

sigh. part 7. maybe. idgaf anymore lmao

toward the end I pretty much forgot how to write, so this is uh, a mess to say the least. but enjoy I guess? yea

Fumikage slowly sat up, and let his hands fall solemnly in his lap. With his level of pain and exhaustion, it was hard to keep himself stable, and his quirk cuffs acting as six-pound weights wasn’t doing him any favors. Which, now that he noticed, wasn’t the only thing Fumikage was wearing. He felt his quirk collar clamped around his neck, even tighter than before. He was surprised that it hasn’t cut off his airflow by now.

Fumikage brushed off the pain, still in awe by his dream. As abstract as it was, it just felt so…real. Everything around him felt as though it were really there. And those shadow figures….he felt their words, their touch…as strange as it was, it just felt right. Fumikage leaned back against the wall behind him. ‘Dark Shadow…’ he whispered. ‘Did you…feel that? In the dream?’ Within him, Dark Shadow stirred restlessly in response to their host’s bewilderment. ‘Mhm…but…Fumikage? Would it be weird to say I…miss it?’ they asked. That restlessness quickly turned solemn as Dark Shadow deflated a bit, wrapping themself protectively around Fumikage’s rib cage. The teen hummed quietly to himself in thought. ‘Well, as weird as it is, you aren’t alone. I don’t know why but…that dream world just felt so surreal. It was…at least compared to what we’re used to, amazing.’ Fumikage replied. He lay his head against the wall behind him as he felt tears in the back of his eyes. Dark Shadow seemed to mimic his movements in a way, as Fumikage felt them curl within themselves, hugging Fumikage’s ribs tighter. ‘I just want a new family…’ they said, barely a whisper. Fumikage felt tears slowly roll down his cheeks, soaking his feathers. It feels like every day that passes, Fumikage feels more and more isolated. More and more alone. It’s just him and Dark Shadow. It always has been. Fumikage thrives off of his quirk’s company. Dark Shadow is the only reason he’s kept a positive outlook on life throughout his last few painful years. If not for Dark Shadow, Fumikage’s life would have ended long ago. But even with Dark Shadow around, Fumikage couldn’t help but feel lonely. He wanted someone else to talk to. A human to talk to, because let’s face it, Fumikage’s social skills are…underwhelming. He never speaks unless he knows exactly what he’s going to say and when. He comes off more confident that way, because otherwise, he’d let his anxiety get the best of him.

Having a kind, caring family around, and having other people in general around, just made Fumikage feel safer. Even his foster siblings. They all despised him, but when they were around, his parents were less violent with him. There was always less expected of him when there were others around to steal all of the attention. But that didn’t mean Fumikage didn’t want attention, he just didn’t want negative attention. And every foster home he’s been in, year after year, has been exactly that.

He just wanted to feel loved, was that so much to ask?

Fumikage slouched back against the wall, only to quickly regret it as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his side. He sat back up with a groan. What exactly happened to him? He knows he blacked out at some point, but it was hard to tell what happened after. His body was numbed with pain; his back and arms were covered in burns that sting when touched, and he had a large, dark bruise right in the middle of his abdomen.

His memory of the previous night was cloudy, among other things, but he does faintly remember that sharp glint coming from his father’s knife. Fumikage put a hand to the source of the pain, feeling around for anything of interest. The closet was nearly pitch black, and as good as Fumikage was at seeing in the dark, he couldn’t do much other than carefully feel his wounds to make sure there isn’t anything too serious. But at this point, getting out of a punishment unscathed would be a miracle.

Fumikage ran his fingers across what felt like a gash along the side of his waist, approximating the length. He winced at the stinging pain, but kept going nonetheless. The wound went from just above his waist halfway up his chest. Pulling away he felt something warm and wet lining his fingers, which he could only assume was blood, given the stinging pain that shot through his body right after.

The teen let out a low groan in response, before wiping his bloody hand on his jeans. Slumping back against the wall, Fumikage looked as his blood stained hand. Even in the dark linen closet, he could still see the dark, smeared blood stain his palm and fingers. Suddenly he felt a surge of negativity rush through him, and he clenched his bloodied fist. Was it disgust? Frustration? Or just pure, justified, rage? It was always so hard, just trying to identify this one, burning, unbearable emotion. Fumikage felt it so often but could never tell what he was really feeling. Dark Shadow growled in reponse to their host, growing increasingly larger, metaphorically, desperately wanting to break free and release this unbearable surge of negativity. It didn’t take long before Fumikage boiled over, and slammed his fist against the wall behind him, causing the paint to crack and a dent to form in the wall. Fumikage looked to the wall next to him, and the result of his outburst. And just like that, he deflated, completely, and utterly, defeated. Defeated from what? It was hard to tell.

The teen choked out a sob, curling up within himself, burying his face in his knees.

Just one more day.

yeah. that’s it. short and painful sweet. no comments, bc i cant think of any. next part coming in uh….idk like a month? who’s to say lmao

I absolutely loved this!! I am so happy you shared this! The writing was phenomenal and this is such an interesting take on Tokoyami’s past. It has the perfect dose of angst~

I hope everyone else enjoys this as much as I did!

#bnha #tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage #tw child trauma #tw child abuse #tw pain #angst tw #angst #pain

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moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

Swan Lake:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

A/N: This idea came to me at like 3 am and idk why, it’s totally not canon or whatever but it was fun to write. I also don’t know anything about ballet so don’t come for my neck lol.

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Slight Mentions of/Implied Physical and Emotional Abuse, Descriptions of Death/Fighting etc.

Word Count: 3,977

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

+ Jack Timmons (OC, albeit a shitty one)

Requested: No

Summary: After constant threats of losing her position in a prominent ballet company, Y/N feels trapped in her circumstances. That is until an infamous blue-eyed gangster stumbles upon her one night, helping her leave her past behind, because sometimes that’s the best thing you can do.

“One, two, three. One, two, three.” Y/N counted to herself as she rehearsed in the quiet concert hall. Her nerves still a mess as the ear-splitting voice of her department head played on a loop in her mind. His harsh words stinging as she continued on.

With every leap and pirouette, her toes and tired muscles screamed to be free from their routine binds that held them together. Her corset digging into her skin, the paper thin pantyhose ripping on her knees from a nasty fall, and her feet cracking and bleeding with each new pair of ballet slippers she broke-in. On nights like this, she often questioned what she was doing this for. Was it for glory? For money? For distraction? It seemed only time could tell.

Unbeknownst to her, a man looked on from the dark entrance. A cigarette in hand as he observed her movements. His eyes alert as he’d heard a man yelling moments before.

Smoke escaped his lips as he watched in silence. The only music coming from inside the woman’s head, her body moving in strict motions to the beat she’d memorized from the orchestra that would usually play during shows. Her instructors voices in her head, threatening to fire her if she didn’t do better.

She never thought that something that brought her so much joy could bring her so much pain, but that seemed to be how things went in life, at least for her.

As she ended her dance, she sat on the cold stage, untying the stiff slippers and wincing as the fabric clung to her bloodied feet. No matter the cloth she put around them, she always found cuts and blisters ambushing her skin. This was the price she paid for perfection. Dancing was her “thing.” Her one gift to the world. The one thing that she’d always have, that no one could ever take away from her.

But with tear filled eyes she looked up at the spotlight beaming down on her, the makeup that was once well kept, slowly being washed away by the tears rushing down her cheeks.

As she ripped her gaze from the blinding light, she thought she felt eyes on her. Feverishly blinking the colorful spots on her vision away as she looked out into the empty seats, where a set of blue eyes stared back, their owner stoic and unmoving.

“Hello?” She asked, her heart racing slightly as she painstakingly walked off the stage and down the middle isle towards the man. Trying her best to wipe her tears away.

“Sorry to startle you miss. Just observing.” He said gruffly, cigarette smoke escaping his lips.

“Why are you here...? What’s your name...? Who do you work for...?” She asked in a barrage of questions, her nerves frazzled as she stood before him.

His blue eyes pierced hers as he took in the state of her. Elegantly hiding the pain behind a powder pink façade.

“I stopped in while on business and I heard yelling.” He said, adjusting his peaked cap, the razor blades glinting off the dull light from outside the theater.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized what gang he was a part of. Remembering talk around the city that they were moving in on London. Making threats and crashing party halls more often than not.

“Everything’s fine, sir.” She said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

“You don’t look fine.” He said.

“You haven’t answered my questions, sir.” She said, deflecting his comments and looking at him skeptically. With a sigh, and a long drag from his cigarette, he spoke.

“My name is Thomas, Thomas Shelby. But you can call me Tommy if you like...” He said walking towards her. Her heart racing slightly as she stood in place.

“...and I’m a man who does bad things. But don’t worry love, I have no bad business with you.” He said, gradually walking towards door.

“Wait....” She said, looking around the empty theater nervously as he stopped in his tracks.

“Why exactly were you watching me?” She asked, walking to him.

He sighed as the cigarette burnt down to the last little bit, ending with him throwing it on the tiled floor and stomping it out.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright....and then I saw you dancing to no music. It intrigued me.” He said flatly.

“How so?” She said, crossing her arms at the infamous gang leader.

“Because I can hear it too.” He said.

“You memorized the song? How? You haven’t seen the show.” She said, walking down the stairs with the mysterious man.

“My mother used to play it at home and she’d dance, quite like you. I recognized the routine.” He said, standing near the exit. The streets bustling with people under the moonlit sky.

“You don’t look like someone who listens to music. Do you dance?” She asked, beguiled by the rather handsome blinder.

“I liked a lot of things before the war. Dancing was one of them. But now?.....No.” he said shaking his head slightly as he continued.

“Sometimes life has a way of taking things from us.” He said softly, lighting another cigarette as he stood before her.

“That it does.” She said, glancing at her tired hands as he observed her once more, how she stood and how her hair fell limply around her face, framing it ever so gently.

“I’m probably overstepping my bounds...Tommy. But uh, if you’re ever in need of dancing lessons...I can help. Free of charge.” She said, the thought escaping her lips on a whim. Her mind racing with wanting to dance anywhere but there in that dreadful theater.

“Free of charge aye? Do you make a lot at these shows?” He asked, his eyes boring into hers.

“No. I’m actually on my way out. Was almost fired for the last show. I wasn’t good enough.” She said looking down.

“That’s a shame. I thought you did great.” He said.

“Tell that to the department head. I’m tired of ruining my body for something that doesn’t pay. I’d rather do it for fun. At least then life might be worth living.” She said, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her pent up feelings slowly trickling out as the minutes passed.

“What do you do for fun, Tommy?” She asked, changing the subject.

He stood in thought, never really taking into account anything besides the noise in his head or the ache in his heart. Never giving himself the time for anything reminiscent of fun.

“I uh, work with horses I guess.” He said.

She nodded and sat in a chair near the exit, wincing and fiddling with the tulle of her tutu.

“So what do you say? Dancing or no?” She asked, a small smirk playing at her lips.

“I’ll accept your offer, on two conditions.” He said.

“Alright, what are your conditions oh infamous Mr. Shelby?” She asked, seeing a small smirk on his face. One that seemed to be uncomfortable, like it had been hidden for years.

“That you give me the name of your department head, and let me employ you.” He said bluntly.

“I’m not a killer, I’m just a dancer.” She said, looking down at her wrists. Bruises forming from many routines throughout the week and from her vile department head.

“You won’t deal with that kind of business. But I’d like to pay you. I can see that you work hard for what you want.” He said sitting next to her.

“You want me to dance for you? What like at some whore house?” She scoffed.

“No. You can dance for fun or teach or whatever it is you want to do. But a job with me, in my shop, can bring you the money you’re looking for. You won’t have to beat yourself up anymore.” He said, noticing the bruising hand prints around her wrists.

“I’ll think about it.” She said quietly, getting up and stretching out her arms, her muscles aching at the movement. Thomas headed towards the door abruptly, not wanting to keep her any longer considering he’d given orders to his brothers a while ago.

“Hey...” She said, stopping him.

“Mhmm?” He mumbled, lighting another cigarette.

“His name is Mr. Timmons. Jack Timmons. I hope you find him.” She said giving him a small, hurting smile before heading back towards the theater.

“Oh and miss?” He called back, making her turn around.

“Yes?”

“I never got your name.” He said.

“It’s Y/N...Y/N Y/L/N.” she said. Thomas nodded and reluctantly turned around, walking slowly into the night the next man on his hit list already buzzing through his mind.

As he stepped onto the cold London streets, he saw his brothers drinking and waiting by the car. Their faces covered in smoke-residue from their mission.

“Oi! What the fuck took you so long aye? We torched the bar down the road so we need to go.” Arthur said, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey he’d stolen.

“I was doing a bit of legitimate business. Did you lot get the money?” He asked, revving the engine and peeling out onto the cold, damp roads towards Small Heath.

“Yeah. Got the whole thing. They won’t mess with us again. What kind of business were you doing in a fucking theater?” Arthur asked.

“Probably fucking one of the dancers.” John said, the toothpick dangling precariously on the edge of his mouth.

“I saw people leaving the show and decided to go there to clean off from our last raid. And I heard a man yelling at some woman there. He’s uh, been a bit of a problem but I can’t tell by how much just yet. He’s been working the woman to death for little pay...so I offered her a spot here.” He said.

“Why are you so caught up on the woman? What, is she gonna dance around the shop all day?” John asked, earning a chuckle from a drunken Arthur.

“I’m thinking she’d make a good assistant. I watched her after he left. She was the only one there, working on the same routine for an hour straight. Was bleeding by the time she was done.” He said.

“Well besides the woman, what are you wanting to do with the man aye? We’ve caused enough trouble here so far.” John said.

“I have a feeling this man is abusing the whole company or at least the woman I spoke to. She’s miserable, you can see it in her eyes. I only saw eyes like that in the trenches.” He said quietly, looking out at the sky through the thin windshield.

Over the next few days, it seemed her plight only grew as the dancers rehearsed, their instructors criticizing more than helping them as they moved to the beat. Y/N’s eyes fearful as their department head entered the room. The music stopping as they all sat on the stage as instructed.

Behind the stage, Thomas watched silently as the instructor eyed the women. The mans eyes only seeing money and fame instead of them as people. But his gaze seemed reserved for Y/N especially.

She was bruised from the repeated practice, the falls, and from the mans calloused hands that beat her beyond the theater walls. Threatening to fire her if she didn’t improve. Claiming he was “trying to save the company’s image.” Telling her she’d be working the streets in no time if she failed again.

Even though she tried her best, often putting in more work than her peers, it still wasn’t enough for Mr. Timmons and his dreadful company. The only thing getting her by was knowing that after the big show, things would settle down, knowing he’d go back to just yelling at her and occasionally at the others, instead of talking with his fists. But the pay remained the same, barely keeping a roof over her head throughout the years.

“Y/N, I’ve seen your performances these past few weeks and they’re all the same. The turns are too loose, your footing is off, and you’re out of step with the others. I don’t see why you can’t do better.” He said loudly as she stared him down. White-hot tears brimmed in her eyes as her face heated up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. None the wiser to the blinder who’d watched it all unfold.

“Meet me backstage after this will ya? We have to discuss some matters over your position here.” He said, walking to the next girl and nodding his head. He moved on from each person giving small snide remarks, but they were nothing compared to what she’d gotten, and it filled her with rage. With a sigh, she wiped her tears and stood up. Decided then and there that she’d walk out. To make a scene like she’d dreamt to during the 5 years she’d worked there.

“Mr. Timmons...the only thing you’ll be doing backstage is shoving these up your ass.” She said, chucking the bloodied ballet slippers at him before exiting the stage and going to her dressing room, locking the door.

Thomas watched silently until Mr. Timmons excused the rest of them, leaving only him and the poor excuse for a man in the dimly lit area back stage.

As the man walked with a master key towards Y/N’s dressing room, Thomas quickly came up behind him. Hitting him in the back of the head with his gun and wrestling him to the floor. The man screaming through a bloodied mouth as he landed punch after punch to his face. Thomas soon removing his cap and slicing the mans eyes, blinding him instantly before shooting him.

Y/N watched from the doorway, dressed from head to toe in her normal clothes she’d came in with. Her eyes red and swollen from crying and her body aching from the mornings work.

She stood there silently, the sight of the man who tormented her making her smile slightly as she realized she was free of him.

“Y/N....” Thomas said, wiping the blood from his face as best he could as he stood up from the mans limp body.

“Thank you.” She said, sniffling a bit as she kept her tears at bay this time. Walking quickly out the door to the outside of the building, the cars whizzing by as the cold wind crept through her clothes.

Thomas quickly draped a nearby blanket over Timmons’ body, dragging it to the dressing room. But before leaving he retrieved the master key from his limp hand, locking the dead man inside as he cleaned up the mess from his handy-work.

As he looked in the bathroom mirror minutes later, he could see the blood on his skin, the metallic smell barely phasing him as he washed it down the drain. After cleaning up, he headed out the door, finding Y/N sitting on the pavement smoking a cigarette.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, sitting by her and lighting his own, his hands bleeding slightly from the blows to Timmons’ face.

“Why not.” She said, fiddling with a pink ribbon in her hands that once kept her hair tightly in place.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He said, sighing as he looked out at the mid afternoon sky. The city bustling around them.

“It’s alright. I’ve wanted that to happen for 5 years. Don’t worry though, after knowing him, nothing really scares me.” She said with a small smile, relief finally hitting her as she realized she’d probably never have to face the man again.

“He’s dead though right? Like you made sure he’s never coming back?” She asked, her eyes still nervously scanning the roads out of habit as the doubt crept in.

“He’s never coming back. I’m burying him tonight.” He said.

“Make sure it’s deep.” She said, the bruises on her wrists more prominent in the daylight.

“Always do.” He said looking at her wrists with a clenched jaw. Knowing full well Timmons was behind it.

“I’ve uh, thought about your offer by the way.” She said looking down at the ribbon.

“You have aye?” He asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. Her voice bringing him out of his thoughts a bit.

“Yeah. I’d like to try it out, if you’d still want me there. I don’t know what a ballerina could offer the company but, it beats where I was.” She said, cringing internally at all the painful memories which unfortunately often overshadowed the good ones.

“I’ve seen you work hard so far, so I figured making you my assistant would be a good position. You’ll come in at 8, and leave by 6 on most days.” He said.

“Most days? What happens on the other days?” She asked.

“On those days you keep busy so you don’t think about how or if we’ll return. You’ll help keep the shop in line along with my aunt Polly until one of us walks through the door. For your safety.” He said.

“Do all the assistants and secretaries work that late?” She asked.

“Only on those nights they do.” He said.

“Alright. May I ask one question?” She said.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, blowing smoke from his lips. He stared at her while she thought over her words, her eyes not as miserable as before.

It made him feel better knowing that even though he couldn’t save the men in the trenches, he could at least save her. Someone who shared their same eyes, their same exhaustion, their same fear of not knowing what was next.

“Why me? You could hire anyone else. Any other woman for that matter. But you chose me...” She said, putting her cigarette out on the damp dirt road.

Thomas sighed for a moment, not wanting to tell her he couldn’t help but fall for a beautiful woman even though they’d just met. No matter her profession, he didn’t expect a ballet dancer to steal his heart so quickly and effortlessly.

“I could see you were different.” He said.

“How so?” She asked, his answer not enough as she looked into his eyes. They were like looking into the ocean, threatening to pull her under.

“When I came in after doing some business and saw you there practicing, you intrigued me. You were dancing with no music, but still trying no matter what happened.” He said.

“You saw me fall aye?” She said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but I also saw what you did after....It’s always about what someone does after the fall, that makes a person who they are. I guess I chose you because you didn’t give up.” He said.

“And I thought it was because I was wearing a pretty pink ballet costume.” She said, smirking.

“That might also be a reason.” He said with a smirk. After a long pause, he spoke again, this time more quietly.

“For the record Y/N, I truly don’t see why the others treated you like they did....But I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He said.

“A man like you making promises? That’s a bold move.” She said, her heart racing as she held his hand gently, nervous to touch someone in a way that wasn’t done in self defense.

“I’m a bold man.” He said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Oh really?” She said with a smirk.

“I can show you.” He said, leaning towards her as she did the same. She couldn’t help but feel differently towards him. He didn’t make her feel scared or on-edge like so many people before her. Instead oddly enough, the dashing blinder made her feel safe.

It was in that moment that he too realized he hadn’t felt this way in a while, since before the war. The only comfort he’d ever found previously was at the bottom of a bottle or beneath the sheets in a brothel. The feelings felt out of place, the noise from the war competing with the song in his head, the same one from her shows. The same one from years ago at home.

With a calloused hand, he caressed her cheek, looking into her as eyes as the sun shined into them. Their color illuminated by its rays as he brought her lips to his, a wave of relief washing over him as he felt her relax into the kiss instead of pulling away.

“So...when do I start?” She asked after he broke the kiss, her eyes trailing to his lips.

“Tomorrow. I can pick you up.” He said.

“Won’t you be tired from burying Mr. Timmons? I can drive myself.” She said.

“It’s not my first time burying someone love. I’ll swing by in the morning.” He said, getting up.

“Alright...see you then.” She said, a genuine grin forming on her face for what felt like the first time in years as she watched him head off towards his car.

Over the next few weeks, she became acquainted with everyone in the shop. Polly taking a special liking to her as she loved dancing as well.

“You’ll never catch me dancing ballet. Maybe a waltz but never ballet.” She said one morning.

“I can teach you, it’ll do you some good. Keep you strong.” Y/N said, thinking about how she’d get by with teaching in her cramped apartment.

“Tommy taking classes from you yet?” She asked with a smirk.

“God no. I think he only said that to get me working for him.” She said, thinking back to his first deal with her.

“What are you two talking about aye? We have work to do.” Tommy said, walking into his office where they sat in his chairs nonchalantly.

“Pol was just asking me if I’d taught you to dance yet. You did say you used to...but there would be no ballet of course.” She said, smirking at him as she blew smoke from her lips.

“Well, I have business at the races soon so I guess you’ll have to teach me. Especially since I’ll need someone to accompany me.” He said.

“I never thought you’d ask. What shall I wear?” She asked.

“Something red.” He said, giving her a peck on the cheek before heading out the door.

Their banter carried on like this months after her employment. The only thing different though was where she stayed. Everyone knew he’d had the hots for the woman as soon as he laid eyes on her in the theater. John joking that going to London was the best decision Tommy had ever made. Seeing as she helped him find himself again even if it was just in simple ways. From the nights spent keeping the sounds of the shovels at bay, to the weekends spent helping him learn a few dances. They both healed each other with each step. He never thought he would enjoy dancing or even something as simple as sleeping ever again, but she helped him and he helped her, and he felt the only way to pay her back was to help her still live out her dreams. Eventually converting one of their many rooms into a dance studio, where she’d help teach children on the side, without mean words and harsh fists beating her down.

By this time, she finally knew what she was dancing for, or more so who. And it pleased Thomas to see the life finally return to her eyes as she did so. Knowing that one of the best decisions she made was to dance for herself. Even if it didn’t garner any grand applause, she knew she had people who cared, and who saw the value in what she did, considering it was her gift to the world after all. Even if it was the gangly Shelby family as her audience, she knew it was better than any theater.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx,

@lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore, @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added or removed, just send an ask/message! :)

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x female!reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Hangang River Bride (OT7 x Hybrid!Reader): Story summary (chapters 1-5)

Pairing: OT7 x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hybrid!AU, Future smut

Warnings: Mentions of myth & Folklore, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, so much Angst, Past Abuse, mentions of domestic violence, rough handling and not in the kinky way, I'm adding more as the story progresses, Cat hybrid Jimin, Dog Hybrid Taehyung, Human Jin & Namjoon, Cat hybrid Yoongi, Dog hybrid Hoseok, Fox hybrid reader, Wolf hybrid Jungkook

Summary:

(Originally posted by R0ADKiLL on AO3, taken over by me with her consent in July 2020.)

Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon- a married couple and well known Hybrid owners. While Seokjin helps Hybrids as a very respected lawyer, Kim Namjoon focuses on studying them to help the world understand better. Their Hybrids Jimin and Yoongi, two rescued cat hybrids from a shelter, were their first- now the house is full of booming life with Taehyung and Hoseok, the two dogs they had adopted soon after, and Jungkook, the newest addition. Saved by a rescue organisation and taken in by Namjoon partially for his studies and partially just to give him a loving home, they seem to be finally complete. Until they meet the girl at the Hangang bridge.

Or: Y/N tries to sneakily steal Jungkooks lamb skewers, and almost gets herself eaten.

Careful: A lot of writing under the cut. Mobile users with older phones should switch to a browser page since the app could crash. I'm speaking out of experience lol.

Kim Seokjin enjoyed the simple things in life. Such as the situation he was in right now; in the arms of his husband, sleeping in because they both finally got a day off for once. "Are you worried?" He asks his Partner, who seems oddly serious despite the comfortable silence surrounding them. He knows that Namjoon knows what he's talking about; for the first time in months, Jungkook, their most recent hybrid addition to their family, has gone out by himself with Taehyung, the almost hyperactive australian shepherd hybrid. Jungkook can't be left alone by himself outside their four walls due to safety laws; all because he is a predator hybrid. As a Wolf, together with his alpha-gene, he has to be accompanied by at least one other Person; hybrid or human. Namjoon found it odd at first, but getting to know more about predator hybrids made him understand the thought behind it. Even though Jungkook was one of the most well behaved and down to earth hybrids he'd ever met, there was still a small chance of him acting on impulse. And it wouldn't even be his fault. Maybe he shouldn't leave the house then, but Jin and he decided that he should have a bit of freedom as well; after all, he was partially a person as well. He deserved to make decisions and have some alone time- as alone as he could be. "They're gonna be fine. Taehyung will keep an eye on him." Jin spoke softly, placing a small kiss to the bare shoulder of his partner, who just nodded, before falling asleep again.

"I'm hungry Jungkookie, let's get something to eat. We can eat it over there!" Taehyung pointed excitedly to the park, while Jungkook just nodded. He didn't like to decide things; he never learned after all. This was all still pretty new to him, even though they had been living together for almost a full year. Growing up in a cage treated like a full blown animal does that to you, they said to him at the rescue center. He's slowly coming out of his shell though; thanks to Jin and Namjoon, and all the other hybrids he now considers his pack, he finally lets loose once in a while.

Grabbing some food, the both walk around the park for a bit, finding a perfect spot to eat. Jungkook always thought what it would be like to have Lunch with friends at this park, never thinking it could all eventually happen. "There you go. Do you need anything else?" Taehyung asked, but Jungkook smiled and denied. He had more than he could've ever asked for if he was being honest.

All while this happened, the two male hybrids chatting away actively, the small fox hybrid saw her chance to strike. Modern pet hybrids didn't hear her usually, and both of them seemed to be of the sorts- even though she could smell something weird on the black haired one. Her own snarling stomach however made her stop thinking, slowly inching forwards until her small hand was able to reach the white plastic bag with the rest of the food still packed for the other ones home- until the dark haired one whipped his head around.

It all happened so fast, the girl snatching the bag and running for her life- quite literally, because Jungkook completely ignored Taehyung shouting at him to stop and come back, his mind running on autopilot. She was stealing, from him, from his pack, and he had to get her. Deep in his brain he knew she probably didn't meant any harm, but his instincts did the thinking for now, his long legs easily catching up to her much smaller form. Grabbing the straps of her honestly pretty torn dress, he yanked her backwards, making her fall on the ground with a loud noise. He threw himself over her, his body hovering, hands holding her struggling ones in a strong grip while his legs tried to keep her from kicking. Only when he heard Taehyung whimpering for him to not do anything, he looked up, noticing the terrified look on his friend's face. He looked down again much calmer now, taking in her appearance for the first real time. Her clothes were a mix of things; two differently colored overknee socks, shoes that looked not to be her size at all, but laces bound around her ankles to keep them from slipping. Her dress was white; probably, because the dirt stuck to it colored it all shades of colors. The fabric was torn at the seams, the entire thing not fitting her at all. But neither her clothing, nor the skinny appearance or the bruises and fading cuts caught his attention. It were her hybrid features.

Her ears, turned backwards so hard they seemed to be wanting to dissappear into her skull were a dirty white, rimmed with pitchblack. Her tail swishing back and forth underneath her was puffed with panic, probably white underneath all the dirt with a greyish black stripe on it. The fur was tangled, parts matted- he knew what this meant. She was probably either feral, or came from a place he knew all too well. "I'm gonna let go. Try to run and I will catch you again." Jungkook spoke lowly, and suddenly the small female went completely still, apart from her shivering, which was probably due to her inner panic and fear. Taehyung watched, wanting to get closer, but choosing to stay a respecting few steps away, too scared he might make her want to flee again. "What's your name?" Jungkook asked after he had sit up on his heels, arms crossed in front of him. Her scent gave her away to him; he already noticed she was a predator hybrid as well. When she didn't answer, he sighed. "Do you even have one?" He asked, his entire posture turning more sympathetic towards her once she finally shook her head in denial. It all made sense to him, even to Taehyung who'd never known such situations himself luckily.

Said hybrid jumped a little when his phone rang, Namjoons ID making him answer. "Hyung?" He answered, before Jungkook held out his hand for the device, Taehyung understanding. "Hyung, Jungkookie wants to talk to you." He said, nodding at something he said over the phone before giving it to his younger brother, wary not to move to fast so you wouldn't flinch too much.

"I'm gonna bring someone home." He simply said, looking at the girl in front of him. In no way in hell he would let her just walk off like that, knowing where she probably came from. He knew this could very well be overstepping a line for him in his new home, but Namjoon simply saying that it was okay and asking if he should set out another plate for food. Jungkook chose not to say anything about her condition yet, knowing it would be rude for him to talk about her like that now. He simply said his goodbyes, giving Taehyung his phone back, before slowly standing up, picking up his plastic bag along the way. "Come on." He said, taking off his zip hoodie to give to her, helping her hide her pretty beat up form in his big clothing. She seemed wary at first, not trusting the entire situation yet, but choosing the jacket after a moment of thinking it over. Taehyung smiled at her comfortingly, but keeping his distance, not knowing how to react. He'd been like that with jungkook at first too, unsure and shy almost. Jungkook however seemed calm, giving him reassurance that at least one of them knew how to handle the situation.

Things however took a turn once he noticed the girl next to him paling even more than she already had; breath turning uneven and eyes suddenly closing, she fell to her knees first before Jungkook could react. "What do we do?" Taehyung asked with a bit of panic in his tone, Jungkook now looking like he was out of answers as well, before picking her up and carrying her back home.

Luckily for them, the park they were at wasn't that far away, making it easy and fast to reach the large house rather quick. Opening the door, Jin started to turn around to greet them, before he noticed the unconscious figure in the arms of the wolf hybrid, automatically shooing both inside and turning off the stove before telling them to put her on the couch.

"What happened?" He asked, but Taehyung was talking so fast his brain couldn't process all of the information at once, making him simply nod. "Who is she?" But at this question, both fell silent. None of them knew for sure, Namjoon walking downstairs after hearing all the commotion, the rest of the hybrids slowly following, concerned faces everywhere.

"I don't know. She said she doesn't have a name. I've seen her before though." Jungkook simply stated, making everyone frown at the realization what he meant. She probably came from the same company as him, shipped illegally and living with a highly possible abusive owner. Just like him.

Namjoon kneeled down in front of the couch, softly inspecting her hybrid features, careful not to wake her. "From what I see I would say fox hybrid." He stated, standing up and crossing his arms.

"But her ears aren't red!" Jimin, the cat hybrid asked timidly from his spot near the couch at her feet, feeling concerned at her lack of movement. Namjoon smiled a bit, placing a hand reassuringly on top of his head.

"They don't always have to be. Foxes have different breeds and colors as well." He said, and Jimin seemed as entranced as ever. The young cat hybrid always liked to almost soak up every bit of knowledge Namjoon gave him like a sponge, though he was known to be pretty forgetful due to an accident he had as a small kitten.

"I'd say lets bring her in our guest room, let her sleep, and after she wakes up, we'll see what we do." Jin stated, making everyone nod. To wait was the best answer for now.

Waking up honestly never felt so pleasant as now. Something that should've set you at ease, but it did the exact opposite; not knowing where you were plus the lack of consciousness after just waking up made your fur stand up, and your body shooting out of the bed into the nearest corner. Accidentally pushing down a small table lamp in the process made all hybrids and humans react; a soft knock was heard on the closed door, asking for entrance. But you couldn't answer, even if you wanted to.

The door opened hesitantly, a cat hybrid with black ears and Sandy brown hair making it's way inside gently, before sitting down with his back pressed against the closed door lazily. He seemed calm, collected, but you couldn't read his intentions. He didnt talk; he maybe knew you wouldn't answer anyways.

A long staring contest followed, or maybe he was just waiting for your heavy breathing to calm down, because as soon as he felt you were calm enough he spoke. "If you're hungry, we're having dinner." Noticing your surprised face he had to swallow the chuckle bubbling in his throat. "Its almost noon. Just so you know." He said, and noticed how your cheeks turned pink in embarrassment. He slowly stood up, opening the door to walk outside, but leaving it open. Leaving the choice to you.

After a moment or two, you slowly stood up, legs still a bit wobbly. You didnt know your way around the entire house, but your ears caught noise from downstairs- a lot of voices mixing together. It felt odd to you- where were the guards? Slowly trying to find your way downstairs (you've never really walked stairs before, neither up or down for that matter) your movement stopped as soon as you noticed eyes on you. Holding onto the banisters, you felt insecure, not daring to move another inch. You heard a chair scrape on the tiled floor, and someone stepping up to you. Closing your eyes you got ready to be scolded- this had been a test hadn't it? But as you opened one eye to peak, a hand was held in front of you. "Come on." The gentle voice sounded a bit familiar, and the face was very much so. The boy with the dark curly hair from the park stood one step below you, a gentle spark in his eyes. Slowly taking his much larger hand, you both made your way down the stairs carefully, him always stopping and taking it slow and steady so you wouldnt fall.

"Ah, sit down! I'm Jimin!" Said hybrid cat told you excitedly while pointing to his side, an empty chair waiting for you. His multi colored feline features gave his entire feelings away, and you internally found it a bit cute if you were honest. You looked at the chair for a second, and looked around after a bit as if to ask for permission first. A tall man with broad shoulders and a very handsome face nodded with a smile, and you sat down as quietly as you could. Jimin immediately started to fill your plate with food, your eyes sparkling at the view in front of you; never having received such amounts of nice smelling and looking foods before. Looking up, you felt awkward, yet once everyone around you started to eat too, you took the nod from the handsome stranger again as a form of permission. But there was a problem.

You'd never used cutlery before.

Sensing your trouble, the dog hybrid on your other side (the same one from the park) started to cut up your food into bite size pieces, before he gave you a fork, holding his as well to give you an example on how to hold it. You had to try a few times but eventually made it; the smile of everyone sensing a funny feeling through your body. You had to restrain yourself from reacting too boldly, but if you could you wouldve jumped in your spot at how delicious it was. However, the speed you were eating in gave away how nice it was. The dog hybrid with the marbled floppy ears chuckled a bit while cutting up more food for you and loading your plate until you gave him a sign to stop.

Slowly, one of the two humans stood up collecting the dishes; another odd thing. Why didnt they tell their hybrids to do that? You stood up and attempted to help, when a hand was placed on your shoulder- warm and gentle. "Ah, we'll handle it. Do you maybe want to take a bath?" The handsome human told you, and your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, obviously asking if he was serious. He smiled at you and nodded. "Do you want someone to help you?" Yiu nodded, not really knowing your way around, your eyes spotting the dark curly hair from the couch, he however wasnt looking at you. The human caught your stare however, turning around. "Jungkook, can you help our friend here run a bath? Oh, and maybe jimin has some clothing that'll fit her-" he said, but Jungkook had already stood up, walking over to you.

The bathroom was large, and as you sat on the closed toilet just how Jungkook had instructed you to do so while he turned on the water, you took the opportunity to look around. How long does it take to clean the entire thing? Would you be in charge of that? But the others didnt have to do the dishes either, so maybe this was one of those homes one of the domestic puppy's had talked about at the mansion. As if he could sense your thoughts, Jungkook started to talk while he poured a nice smelling purple liquid into the water, making it foam. "We dont have to actually work here y'know." He started, and you listened to him with a bit of confusion. He didnt push it though. "I'll leave you to it now... if you need help just uh.. call me or Someone or whatever." He said and walked out after turning the water off. You sat there for a bit, not knowing if you could do anything, but deciding to just go for it. Stripping your clothes you gently got into the tub, warmth surrounding you as well as a nice flowery scent. You happily started to wash yourself, not caring for a moment as you rubbed your ears and tail clean of all the grime that had piled up, grinning once the fur started to turn white and black again, the dirt finally coming off. Washing your hair you finished off, stepping out and wrapping a towel around you.

Opening the door you peaked around the corner, until you softly called out for the wolf. You thought he maybe didnt hear you, but suddenly you heard feet stepping upstairs and soon he stood in front of you, holding some clothes out. "Here." He said, and at your look of confusion he simple looked to the side, almost as if he was embarrassed. "They're uh.. mine. I- so you can- I mean baggy clothes are comfortable so, yeah.." he said, and you smiled at that, his eyes suddenly widening at the view he got. This was the first smile he'd ever seen you display, and he couldn't help but feel his heart rate increase.

You changed into his clothing before finally coming downstairs, a bit slow but finally without any help, looking a bit awkward. Someone cooing at you made you look in the direction of the sound, spotting the living room it seemed, all hybrids and humans sitting down. The puppy hybrid with the marbled ears had turned around on the couch, looking at you, while the other tall human came to you, towel and brush in hand. "Come on, before you catch a cold." He said, patting his lap for you to sit on. You hesitated for a moment, until you finally sat down, your back facing him. "I'm Namjoon by the way." He said, until he pointed to the broad shouldered man sitting on the other couch. "This is Seokjin. He's the eldest, kind of the head of the family." He stated, gently drying your hair with a towel before he started to dry your ears as well. "Taehyung and Jungkook were the ones you met at the park." Pointing towards the marble eared puppy hybrid and the wolf sitting next to him. "You already met Jimin. Next to him is Yoongi, the one who called you for dinner." He stated, before he pointed to the one who seemed to hold back his excitement the most as if not to scare you. "And that's Hoseok. Hes kinda quiet because he tends to get a bit loud. We dont want to scare you." The towel felt soft against your features, until he took a brush to run it through your hair. "What kind are you?" He gently asked, to which you answered on a quiet voice.

"A marble fox." You stated, everyone listening closely because of how quiet you spoke.

Namjoon nodded, visibly interested, but keeping it in for now. "Do you need anything specific concerning your diet?" He asked, and you shook your head. Not that you'd know. Until now, hybrid pellets were your best bet concerning food. "I see. I know you probably dont want to talk about it, but it's important." He started, turning your around so you sat sideways on his lap. "Do you want to go back to your owner?" He simply asked, and by the way your ears instantly turned backwards, everyone knew the answer. Jimin instantly moved forwards, reaching out to pat your head gently, making your eyes widen at the gesture.

"We wont make you go back. She can stay, cant she Joon?" Jimin asked, looking hopeful at his owner. The calico hybrid had always been extremely social and clingy towards people he liked, and it showed; he took a liking to you, letting you go would prove difficult now. That was one of the many reasons he'd ended up in a shelter; his high maintenance nature and need for attention made him not an easy pet. He felt for you.

"Its not that simple Jiminie, but well try our best." He said, sharing a glance with his husband on the other couch. They'd have to find out if you were in any database first, and after that Jin could start collecting necessary documents for your adoption.

"Wait, wait!" Taehyubg suddenly said, making everyone look up to him, until he sat down in front of you. "You dont have a name right?" You said, making everyone gasp a bit, apart from Jungkook who knew already. "Then we'll give you one!" He said, looking around, and everyone started thinking. Giving a name to a hybrid was a huge thing; after all, you'd be carrying this forever. You started to get a bit nervous, everyone trying out names until Jungkook spoke up, gaze straight on you.

"Y/N."

And for one once, everyone instantly agreed.

The next morning started slow. You found out that both humans, Seokjin and namjoon didnt work on weekends, and took the time off to spend time with everyone. It felt a bit foreign not knowing what your exact purpose was.

"Master Seokjin?" You asked as you sat on one of the kitchen chairs to watch him cook. He turned around a bit before answering.

"Jin is fine, really. That title is.. really not necessary. We're all equal." He spoke in a gentle tone, and you noted not to call him that anymore.

"What is my purpose in this household?" You questioned with great curiosity, and Jin was close to answering until a hand was placed on your head.

"Being cute." Yoongi answered before sitting on the kitchen board, making seokjin shake his head a bit, because he wasnt supposed to, but did it anyways. "We all dont really have a job or anything. We help around the house here and there, Jimin takes care of the garden for example, Taehyung has his pet bunnies outside, and so on. It's more like a hobby though." He explained while continuously stealing pieces of bacon from jin.

"But.."you started, frowning a bit. "Why have hybrids then?"

"Because, we wanted to. Companionship. Simple as that." Jin answered, before ushering Yoongi out the kitchen, who just smirked as he walked out lazily. How he could get away with his behavior was a mystery to you. Just as you wanted to ask something however, a yawn interrupted you. You woke up early again today, a habit you would find hard to get over.

The wolf with the long hair came in, picking you up without asking at all. "Yah, Jungkookie, you cant just carry her around like a ragdoll!" Jin said, the Saif wolf however just shrugged and walked out, putting you down the couch before laying down himself, arms around you.

"Jungkook.?" You gently asked, but he made a sound to silence you.

"Naptime." He simply said, putting his leg over yours for good measure, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldnt escape. During those two days the wolf had been constantly around you, always keeping an eye out for you, making sure you didnt get uncomfortable. It felt as if he'd unofficially claimed you as his, a fact that felt a bit weird to you. There was nothing to claim. You were a used product, still unsure and constantly confused. But before your thoughts could fall any deeper, the gently sound of his heartbeat against your back made you fall asleep.

Shopping was something that was foreign, again. You knew how it worked of course, but you'd never been out before to buy things- and for you for that matter. You slowly got used to your name however, your brain inking the sound into your memories, so that you'd never forget it again. People seemed so carefree, your companions happy and joking around, Jungkook never daring to let go of your hand, as if he was scared to loose you, and to be fair, a lot of people were out this time.

"You okay?" He asked once he noticed you staring around, and you nodded, looking up to him, since you were a good bit shorter.

"Yeah. It's just.. a lot to take in." You said, while he looked at clothing. "Do you think I.." you started, and he looked at you, urging you to continue. "Stay? Like, could I stay with you.. and your family?"

He smiled at that, squeezing the hand he was holding a bit. "I'll do everything I can to make that happen." His words made your tail sway a bit, the first real time it happened, and Jungkook cooed internally at the sight. And although he didnt voice it out, he made a promise to get more reactions like that out of you.

Together everyone made their way home after everything was bought, you sitting next to Jungkook and Tae on both sides. Things like these were still exhausting for you, causing you to eventually fall asleep, your ears tickling Taehyungs neck a bit. He looked down on you, trying to burn the image into his mind. You looked so peaceful, angelic even, he couldn't explain it.

Deciding not to wake you he unbuckled your seatbelt, slowly moving you out the car and carrying you inside the house. As soon as he laid you on the couch and tried to walk away however, your hand grabbed his pants, gently tugging to get him back. He smiled and complied, hugging you on the couch happily; you seemed to open up to everyone one by one, making him exhale with fondness.

"Come on, let's get you to bed then." He gently said, as everyone around you said their good nights and walked upstairs into their rooms.

"Can I.." you started, but slowly stood up without finishing, making Taehyung grab your hand this time, tables having turned with him keeping you from walking away now. "I.. uh, you can say no, but maybe I could like... sleep in your room.?" You asked, not looking at him out of embarrassment. His reaction however, was a smile so bright and boxy you swore you could've melted right there on the spot.

"Of course cuddlebug. come on!"

"This is bad." Namjoon mumbled, carrying an opened letter in his hand while carding his unoccupied hand through his hair. Seokjin looked at him with worry, walking towards him to catch a glimpse of whatever he'd been reading.

Earlier that day, they've gone out for breakfast, jimin suggesting you should ge used to being outside more. Since Jungkook was someone who slept long, Taehyung and Jimin had taken you out instead, happy to get the surprisingly clingy wolf off of you for a few hours. Needless to say, the canine hybrid however wasnt too happy to find you missing when he woke up, a little jealousy mixed with worry making him fussy until you finally came back.

The news in this letter however weren't too good. Apparently, your old owner has taken notice that you've been sheltered at his place without his consent, asking for a date to quote unquote "return his property" as he stated, making both humans scrunch up their faces with disgust at the wording. Jin has had his suspicions about you being treated poorly in the past, and it seems like he was right about it.

"Should we tell her?" Namjoon asked, not sure if it was something you genuinely should know yet. Maybe there was a way to get you out of this without making everyone feel uneasy or restless. They both didnt want you to go back to that place, having already locked you into their hearts. They also thought you deserved to know, making both worry. However, a deep voice startlet both.

"Tell her what?" Jungkook asked, eyes glazed over with something they couldn't quite place. "Huh?" He said again, getting impatient. He was easy to rile up in general, but with you he seemed to be especially touchy. Jin simply gave him the letter that was in question, and the wolf immediately widened his eyes, looking back at them. "He cant be serious. We wont let her go back there." He said, scoffing, but looking darkly at his friends when there was no answer. "Right?" He asked, but there still was no reaction other than uncomfortable silence.

"Jungkook it's not that easy-" but he was soon interrupted by the young wolf.

"Are you mental?! Dont tell me you're actually giving her away like what?!" He raged out, heart racing with the fear that he could be separated from you. "She trusts you hyung! You cant be serious.!" He said, getting quieter the more their silence stretched.

The main reason was that they legally had no ownership. They couldn't afford going against authorities with the other hybrids in their possession, they had to think about what was best after all. And jungkook deep down knew as well- but he considered you a part of his pack already. Loosing you would hurt alone. But losing you to an abusive situation would drive him insane.

The door opened, happy voices cutting threw the heavy atmosphere in the house, but before they could reach the three, jungkook dashed into his room, needing to cool down. Both jimin and Taehyung looked at their owners confused, but the only thing they could do was sigh. This was a difficult situation. And the outcome could be horrible.

You knew something was up.

The atmosphere had changed, both humans were starting to grow distant from you, keeping a safe bubble around them you couldn't seem to join. Slowly but surely, even though you had a small glimmer of hope this wouldnt happen, you realized what was going on.

They wanted you gone. But they just didnt know how to tell you.

So what was the best thing to do in a situation like that? Exactly. Take away the burden of decision making, and do it for them. Softly folding your clothes, you made sure to leave your room as tidy and clean as possible, as a form of thank you for their hostility. You didnt hold a grudge against them; they had to take care of a lot of wonderful hybrids already. You were a burden that needed to be lifted. Slipping on a red beanie that you may or may not have stolen from jungkook, along with some warmer clothes since it was winter, you opened the window. Walking outside the door was absolutely impossible, since it creaked a bit every time it opened, but the window wasnt a problem to climb out of.

As soon as your shoes (timberlands, a thing that jungkook always cooed over because they looked tiny compared to his own pair) touched the soft crunchy leaves that weren't covered in snow, you breathed in. You made it this far. You could go even farther as well. You believed in that.

Meanwhile, jin stirred in his sleep a little, cold icy air hitting his exposed feet. Did he forget to turn the heater on? No, it smelled like fresh air, even though his bedroom windows were closed. It took him a sleepy moment to make a very scary thought creep until his mind. Instantly getting up and walking until the hallway, opening your bedroom window, his fear became a reality he hoped to turn out as a mere dream. But the soft wind accompanied by small snowflakes making it's way into the empty room was easy too real. And he swore he could hear his heart crack like glass as soon as he heard the broken growl behind him, not needing to turn around to know whose it was. Namjoon tried to calm the wolf down, but it only caused him to be even louder, luring a tired Taehyung, and even Yoongi out of their sleep.

"Whe-where is she.?" Taehyung slowly asked, fearing the answer he'd get. He knew he cared deeply for you, but jimin would simply be heartbroken by the fact that you left. But before Namjoon could explain, since Jin was still simply staring, frozen, Jungkooks dark voice cut through.

"Gone. Just like they wanted." He said, suddenly speedwalking down the stairs, slipping on his shoes and throwing over a jacked, dashing out, blinded by rage and fear for you. He didn't even hear his friends yelling for him to come back; his mind running on autopilot, his only mission:

Getting you back.

Warapped up in one of Taehyungs oversized coats, walking along the streets littered with cafes, you wondered if leaving was really the best idea. How could you really have gotten attached so fast though? It wasnt really like you, considering your past experiences with humans, and other hybrids as well.

Pulling the red beanie a little down to make sure it covered you well, you decided to make a trip back to the very park you first met the large family. It felt odd to be back, knowing what had happened- and how far you've come. You had actual clothing now, some snacks in your pockets to keep you going for a while, and some newfound energy you didn't even think you could have. Deep down you had known all along that a future wasn't in it for you; this family was a well established pack already- it felt rather rude to intrude for you. But maybe now you could actually maybe approach people a bit better after coming out of your shell a bit- but the more you thought about it, the less it felt appealing to you.

Because no matter how kind a person would be, jimin would've been so much kinder. No matter how happy someone would make you, Hoseok could've made you smile so much brighter. No matter how smart someone would be, Namjoon could've shown you so much more in this world. No matter how tight someone would hug you, Taehyungs hugs would've felt so much better. No matter how calm a silence would be, Yoongi's would've felt so much more comforting to you. No matter how well someone would take care of you, Jin would've mothered you even worse.

And no matter how much someone would try to make you feel safe, Jungkook would've made you feel so much more protected. As if nothing could ever hurt you in this world.

You sniffled a bit, noticing your eyes stinging with tears that threatened to spill from your dark thoughts alone. But thats what you felt like; for the first time in a long while, you truly felt alone. And it wasn't a nice feeling. If back in the day loneliness comforted you because it was better than being with 'him', it now felt suffocating. You felt small, tiny, and truly vulnerable. And you hated it.

You shook your head, scouting out a place to spend the night without getting noticed by authorities. It was back to your old habits again, your knowledge about the surrounding area and how to survive out here helping you to fit back into your situation again.

However; together with your old situation came an old perso as well, his greeting sending cold shivers down your spine- and that had nothing to do with the flaky-breeze the winter brought.

"There you are."

Somewhere in Seoul, a distressed wolf was almost running down the streets during the early morning hours, his skin running hot even considering the freezing temperatures. But this only added to his worries.

Were you scared? Cold? Hungry? Or worse?

What if you got hurt?

Where would you sleep?

His mind automatically pictured the worst; you, hiding somewhere, cold, distressed, and all alone, vulnerable to every predator around. He knew deep down that you were strong, that you probably wore clothes to keep you warm, you were smart enough to think before you acted, but his instincts wouldn't let him rest at all. He almost jumped at a heaving Yoongi; the cat wasn't really used to running after the way more active Wolf hybrid, but he had to- if someone saw him running wild without anyone with him, they would have even more problems at hand than just you. "Jungkook-" He began, but before he could even get another word out, the younger Hybrid grabbed his shoulders, his eyes sparkling with fear, showing their bare, reddish-brown color, a sign that he was slipping into a very dangerous headspace for a predator hybrid.

"Hyung, she's out there- she- what if someone gets her? What if her old owner finds her, you know how bad it was where she came from, what if she gets hurt, and I'm not there to help her, I'm supposed to protect her, I-" He was breathing heavily, his eyes opening wide with the fear that his own words began to fire up in his chest.

"Jungkook, we'll find her-" But namjoon may not have been the best person to speak up in that current moment, and Yoongi thanked whoever god was in charge that day, because thankfully the streets were empty this early in the morning.

Because as soon as Jungkook heard his owners voice, his entire body changed in posture- he was ready to jump him. Thankfully Jin had arrived as well, rushing to hold the alpha back while he wasn't thinking straight and yelling at the person he should be able to trust with his entire being. But in this moment, Namjoon seemed to be his worst enemy. "Its your fault! You wanted this didn't you?! Admit it, you're glad she took the decision off your way too high shoulders and decided to make it easy for you!" He yelled, his body language basically screaming hostility. "Its because you're always right- but you never make decisions do you! You only follow rules if others follow with you, and you only run with whatever shit someone seems to spit, you're a coward!" He said, slowly calming down since his body was getting tired. He hadn't been this riled up in a long time- the stress finally taking a toll on him now.

Jin and Yoongi managed to get him back inside the car, leaving Namjoon and Jimin alone. The cat hybrid had followed along as soon as he heard that you left them so suddenly- he was distressed about it as well, but he worried about his entire family situation too. He nodded towards Yoongi, who made a gesture to tell him they'd bring Jungkook back home where Taehyung and Hoseok were waiting as well- having the alpha hybrid running wild while not being in the best state of mind wasn't the best idea. It could also prove getting you back difficult as well, seeing as you were still pretty skittish whenever he was getting only a bit louder when playing video games with Taehyung.

"Lets go back to the park. Maybe she's gonna stay in an area she considers familiar? I know I would.." Jimin said softly, gently tugging at the sleeve of Namjoons jacket, to get him to move. But he had troubles concentrating, Jungkooks voice echoing inside his mind almost hauntingly. He knew that deep down it was just his distressed wolf speaking, but maybe this was what he really thought of him. And the worst part was that he wasn't even wrong about it. Maybe he was a coward. He was insecure, and he shouldn't be. Not as a person, not as a lover, not as an owner, and not in his field of work. But he shook his head, nodding at Jimin who slowly started walking into the direction of the park.

Namjoon couldn't hold it in on their way as they walked towards the place they had initially met you- or in this case, where Taehyung and Jungkook met you. "Do you think he's right?" He asked softly, not looking at jimin, and trying to look at every corner in front of him to maybe spot you.

"You know how he gets Joonie." Jimin began softly, his red bucket hat hiding his ears, but he could see them move slighty under it. "He wasn't in the best state of mind. I think he was just.. out of it I guess." He said, his senses trying to notice something he could identify as you.

But namjoon only sighed. "But he had a point, no?" He began, his brows furrowing while thinking about it. "He may have blown his thoughts out of proportion, but the root of them was there. I know he's right. But I don't know why it bothers me so much." He said, his steps getting harder as they began to walk on grassy grounds, finally reaching the park.

"That's because its you. You hate it when other people are right." Jimin chuckled, making his statement appear less sharp than it was. "But that's you, and that's why you're so good at anything involving your brain. You and Jungkook are pretty similar; you both hate loosing." He said, his smile spreading as he spotted a familiar coat near a streetlight. However, his pupils became slits in distress, his mind slipping just like Jungkooks as soon as he noticed your body language- you stood in front of a person, a stranger, and your entire being screamed fear at him, making him taste the bitter flavour even though he wasn't in your place. "joonie-" He said, but the man in question was already walking foward.

"Hey, what're you doing?" He said rather loudly, his voice sharp edged, not leaving any room for a smile. The man simply turned towards him, holding his hand out.

"Ah, you're the person that took it in right? I assume because you look quite like the Kim Namjoon I saw on your profile picture while we where in contact via E-Mail." He said, his voice full of a weird sense of pride, making Jimin step back a little. He desperately wanted to get to you, but his fear was getting the better of him, instinctively hiding behind his owner.

"That's right." Namjoon simply said, but refraining from shaking the man's hand. He wanted nothing to do with this person, knowing what kinds of businesses he was involved into, you quite possibly having been a part of this too. Because this had been why he had been so hesitant in answering Jungkook. It was difficult to go against someone of that size, and they needed to think about their actions before actually doing anything. But again Jungkooks words rang inside his ears. He wouldn't stay a coward in this situation. He had the law in his favor. "I also advice you to step away from her because, as you should know, hybrids get anxious when someone other than their owners are too close to them." He said, making the man scoff.

Jimin wanted to lash out as he harshly grabbed the end of your tail making you squeak in pain and him laugh, Namjoons face contorting slowly with growing anger. "Ah yes, but we both know how the situation is. That's my property, and therefore mine to take back. I do thank you for keeping her in your apartment and feeding her, but I have business to attend to."

The cat hybrid was silently crying now, his sympathetic character making him feel just as much distress as you felt, the man still keeping a tight hold of your tail- something you hated as you had told Jimin many times before. He felt helpless- but Namjoon would surprise everyone, just like every time.

He simply took out his phone, tapping a bit here and there before opening a document, holding it towards the stranger. "Legally she is mine currently since you're under official surveilance involving several issues we won't get in too deep. Now, would you mind letting go of my hybrid sir?" He simply said, voice calm.

The man simply scoffed, pushing you forward onto the gravel, making you hiss as you felt your nice jeans scratch open, revealing your knees which scraped open as well on the ground, along with your hands that tried to soften the blow. Jimin dashed foward now, not caring if the man was close to him or not, immediately shielding your body from anyone around him, softly purring in order to calm you, and himself down. The man simply left, Namjoon softly walking over to both his hybrids, patting Jimin's back to get him to reveal you towards him.

He made you sit down, the cold seeping into you but you didnt care- your hands and feet stung, making you tear up. But the reason you were crying was because you were both upset and relieved- maybe there was a chance of staying with them, even if it was just for a while longer. "Can I look at it?" He asked softly, and you just sniffeled, nodding. Namjoon knew it was a bad moment, but he couldn't help but admire you in that moment. Even with a runny nose, all red from crying and the cold, eyes shiny with tears, you had that adorable pouty face making him melt. He observed your scraped up knees and hands, softly brushing over them to at least get most of the dirt out before helping you get up. "Lets go home, yeah? You scared everyone to death." He said, laughing a bit to lift the mood. Jimin, still a bit teary as well, held your arm, since your hands still hurt from the incident. Jungkoo would run wild seeing you hurt, but he would eventually calm down, hopefully. Both Jimin and Namjoon hoped first however, that he left the apartment standing.

"It's never gonna be the same Taehyung." Jungkook said still angry, sitting on the living room couch with his head in his hands. The Dog hybrid had managed to at least calm him down a little, but overall there was still a rather dark mood surrounding everyone. Tae himself was sad as well, however he pushed his own feelings back in order to at least not fuel the fire even more. The front door jingled a bit with the sound of someone inserting a key, and at first, no one really did anything- until Jungkook got hit with your scent, his head snapping up at the sound of you-

sniffling.

Where you crying? One look towards you confirmed that you were, his mind running on autopilot as soon as he saw those glassy orbs looking at him. He jumped over the back of the couch, almost tripping over the carpet and his own shoes he simply had taken off mindlessly, immediately observing you to look for injuries. "What happened?!" He said in a rush, his large hands taking your small ones in his, hissing at the scratches on the inside of your palms.

"Come on Jungkook, I need to treat y/n first, then we can talk." Namjoon said, Jimin helping you take off your jacket and leading you to the bathroom downstairs. Jungkook followed silently, his pack instincts simply refusing to get him to leave you out of his sight for even a moment. He sat down in front of the open bathroom door with his legs crossed, watching as Jimin made you sit on the closed toilet seat, Namjoon getting a small towel and filling the sink with warm water, beginning to slowly clean up your cuts and scrapes from any dirt and gravel. Every time you hissed, Jimins ears twitched and Jungkook sat up straighter to get a look at you- not because he didn't trust namjoon, but because he just had to make sure you were okay.

Namjoon took out some larger bandaids and placed them onto your knees since they were actually bleeding, but simply brushed over the backs of your hands when he was done. "Try not to do much with them okay? Its better if we leave them like that. It'll heal faster." He said, and you nodded, still a bit pouty and awfully quiet, but everyone could see your interest in the scent that slowly began to creep through the apartment; jin's cooking. "Alright buttercup, go get changed and then let's eat, alright?" He said, silently telling you that you both would talk in private soon. You knew he had made a decision, and you hoped it was for you, not against.

Jungkook stood up, stepping aside so you all could walk outside, Taehyung running towards you and hugging you tightly. "Don't do that again." He mumbled, and you nodded, your own cheeks growing a bit red at the close proximity. "Lets go! Jin made your favorite!" He said, and you followed behind him.

"Hyung-" Jungkook started, thinking about how to apologize, since it was needed, but the older one beat him to it.

"It's fine Jungkook. It maybe wasn't the best moment, but you were right. I guess I can't leave the protecting-part solely to you, huh?" He said, making the young alphawolf scoff and playfully push his shoulder.

After you all ate, you slowly went outside the kitchen after helping jin a bit, even though he scolded you for using your hands. Suddenly, someone came up in front of you, wrapping his own hands around your tiny form compared to him, and burying his nose into your head between your ears, the soft fur of them brushing against his cheeks, making him sigh happily. "You're part of my pack you brat." He mumbled into your hair, squeezing you a bit tighter while careful not to hurt you. "I don't like people taking away whats mine." He said again, and suddenly, he heard the rest of his family coo at him and you, making him raise an eyebrow. He had hugged you before, so what? But then he noticed it too.

The happy wagging of your tail.

This have been 5 Chapters, combined in one post. Because R0ADKiLL's chapters are fairly short I've decided to make one out of them, simply to get you all on the same page of the stories progress up until now. The writing officially belongs to R0ADKiLL, not me. Only future chapters are mine. =) Thanks again to R0ADKiLL for giving me her baby practically, I promise I'll take care of it!

#ot7 fic #ot7 x reader #ot7 imagine #ot7 hybrid fanfic #ot7 hybrid imagine #namjoon imagine #hoseok imagine #taehyung imagine #jungkook imagine #Seokjin imagine #jin imagine #jimin imagine #suga imagine #yoongi imagine

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deusluxuria · 3 years

Text

Headcanon: Jotaro Kujo: Hey Jupiter

(Warning: Stone Ocean spoilers, long-ass long post, serious as hell, eating disorder mention, smoking mention, child abuse implied, parent death)

(HC: Jotaro's wife's name: Kelly -- because i hate calling her just 'jotaro's wife' lol)

Jotaro & Kelly got along so well that people were shocked when they got divorced.

They seemed so comfortable with each other, were constantly joking around, and were excellent parents. All that despite both of them having previously thought they'd never find anyone who understood and respected them. They were both misfits.

They separated for Jolyne's sake, and they didn't get over the divorce for quite a while. It was extremely sad. Though, people who didn't know them very well made all kinds of horrible assumptions about why they got divorced. Which made it so much more painful.

Jolyne and her dad were close when Jolyne was a child. Jotaro had been looking forward to being a father one day, ever since he was a teenager. He had felt that was his purpose. He was prepared to be fully committed.

And when Jolyne came along, she was everything; the most important thing in the world. Jotaro finally understood everything his mother had felt for him and everything she'd endured for his sake. How emotional she would always get over every little thing Jotaro did.

But, eventually, Jotaro's gradually increasing distance from his family left Jolyne so hurt and angry that she never wanted any contact with him and she felt she could never forgive him. She felt she had lost her father long before he was actually separated from the family. She mourned the emotional loss of him.

Jotaro had made the mistake, from the very beginning, of constantly lying to Kelly and Jolyne, and being cagey about why he sometimes had to disappear -- he hadn't told them about Stands and how unavoidably dangerous it was to have one.

But no attacks or dangerous incidents had happened between the death of Dio, until the appearance of Kira Yoshikage.

So Jotaro never quite found out what he was in for, until after he had already gotten married and had Jolyne.

Kelly would ask him what was going on and where he kept running off to. Jotaro continued to reply, "I can't tell you."

Kelly knew Jotaro as well as she could, and was completely sure it wasn't something like an affair, or anything immoral like an involvement with the mafia. Not that it made her feel any better that it wasn't anything like that.

During Jolyne's preteen years (after she had gotten arrested at fourteen, and Jotaro couldn't be there), one day, Kelly and Jotaro mutually decided they couldn't go on like that and have that kind of tension in the house, especially with no one except Jotaro knowing what was going on.

Kelly had reminded him several times during their marriage, "I hate it when you don't talk to me."

Jotaro agreed that he wasn't going to put her and their daughter through that anymore.

Jotaro and Kelly remained friends, but not without an unbearable stretch of finding it too painful to spend time with each other. When they did hang out again, before saying goodbye, they would hug for a while in a manner as if they'd die if they let go. So many things reminded them of each other. If they had left something at one another's homes, they'd cling to that object.

Kelly had been the first person Jotaro had slept with who hadn't made him uncomfortable. (Before he met her, it took him a few awful experiences to learn that, to him, sex without love was a nightmare.) And she was the first to be open to understanding his approach to intimacy in general.

She was one of the few people who hadn't judged him as cold or emotionless because of the way he looked. She didn't make hasty assumptions.

And Jotaro had already been so tired of the closed-minded way people usually treated him. He believed that, if things didn't work out with Kelly and him, he'd finally give up at letting people in.

When they were together, Jotaro had done most of the housework, being the one who relies on a daily routine and who has the strongest need for things to be in order. But once he was on his own again, he had trouble finding a reason to keep his living space up to standard or to cook anything or pay attention to a schedule.

Shortly after the divorce, Holly died.

Kelly had already warned Jotaro that, of the two of them, he would suffer the most from their separation. Because he didn't connect with people very well. But he would've never expected himself to fall nearly as hard as he did, even if his mom hadn't died.

People at work who usually never even gave him a "how's your day going," started asking him if he was okay.

His meltdowns became different & more frequent from the ones he usually had (i.e. from Autistic sensory-overload). He would blurt out disturbingly honest things, only to regret it so badly later that he'd shut himself in the nearest isolated place and start sobbing.

He'd struggled with an eating disorder since he was a kid, but he had mostly survived it with his mom's cooking as the only thing he could always eat and keep down. As a teenager, smoking was added as another coping mechanism.

But, the emotional hell he was going through because of his separation from his family caused a particularly bad relapse. And Holly wasn't there to save him anymore. He lost an appalling amount of weight.

Holly's funeral was a nightmare, mostly at the fault of Jotaro's dad, who made a spectacle of it. Inviting his celebrity friends and turning it into a selfish exploitation that required his security guards to be in attendance.

Jotaro secretly established a small, quiet area behind the building for everyone else. Jolyne and Kelly were there.

Jotaro left many times just to sit in his car and smoke with trembling hands -- he had successfully quit smoking back when he and Kelly had decided to have a child (causing a heightened number of eating disorder relapses), but had skyrocketed to a pack a day after his mom died.

Something broke in him that day. He could feel it. Like a canyon suddenly formed in his soul.

The last time he went back to the funeral, he went inside the building, walked up to his dad, and started waling on him. People screamed. Jotaro got a few punches into his dad's face before Kelly stopped him, holding onto him from behind and leading him away.

Jotaro had told her a few things about his father before. But not everything.

Abdul was the only person Jotaro had told. And after that conversation, Mohammed was silent for a while, and then said, "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I'm a phone call away."

After Mohammed had died, Jotaro not only couldn't muster the energy to explain the situation to anyone else, but he didn't know anyone else he trusted that deeply. Mohammed had experienced similar trauma, and knew that depth of hopelessness. He was not only the other parent that Jotaro had always needed, but he had some of Holly's likeness, with his open heart and boundless compassion.

And there was Kakyoin as well. The only friend he'd ever had that he actually felt close to. The only friend he could say "I love you" to without it feeling strange. They'd had their misunderstandings and their peeves about each other, but they were absolutely best friends.

He never connected with people at quite that level again. His friends in Egypt had been more than family. Soulmates, in a sense. Though Jotaro did find love and friendship afterwards, something about it still felt trite in comparison.

Jotaro never really recovered from his crisis with his divorce and with Holly's death. A few months after Holly died, Jotaro got a gastrostomy tube for eating disorder recovery and got the color back in his face. He at least looked like he was doing better. And he had found at least some meaning again in his cherishing of Josuke, another family member he would die for in a heartbeat.

But the depth of his loneliness; the realization of just how alone he was, awakened a suffocating dread that gnawed at him.

(Title: "Hey Jupiter" is a soul-crushing breakup song by Tori Amos)

#this b/c i never ever finish fanfiction jfc #stone ocean #jotaro kujo #jolyne kujo #jolyne cujoh #jotaro's wife #headcanon #autistic!jotaro #holly kujo #stardust crusaders #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #demipan!jotaro

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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

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Umm... I was wondering if you could Maybe do a follow up on your mini fic Last Line from dicks pov? It gave me alot of feelings and i would love to see the fallout?

Your work is really good! Its so cool how your brave enough to put pieces of yourself out there for other people!

Hey babe! Thank you for your kind words! It made me smile getting this, you are very sweet <3

I totally forgot about Last Line lol, but when I saw it reminded me that I actually wrote a bit more of it, both before and after the scene I posted. So, this isn’t exactly what you asked, but here’s some backstory and then the fallout!

---.---

Four years old, and he watches the red string on his finger pulled taunt towards the crying boy, the color of the thread well disguised among the red blood of the murdered acrobats.

Nine, and he watches from the shadows as it swings right and left, following Robin’s pirouettes from building to building. The thread, that usually goes a few feet before ‘vanishing’ from sight, was almost completely visible now, at such a short distance from the person holding onto its other end.

He’s on his twelve when he tries to explain to Dick the importance of him going back home. He wasn’t sure of his success, even though the older hero took him to the manor, because during his whole speech, Nightwing hadn’t looked up from the red joining them together. It wasn’t exactly how Tim wanted him to find out, but… Batman needed a Robin, and he was out of options.

At fourteen, he feels Kon’s hand clenching on his shoulder, as they both watch from the side how Nightwing swept Barbara off her feet and twisted her around, laughter falling from both their lips even as Dick thread’s end was pointing towards Tim. The third Robin didn’t turn to look at his best friend, didn’t meet Bart’s eyes or react to Cassie taking his hand on hers. He just made sure his face was perfectly devoid of any emotion when he muttered, low enough only a kryptonian would hear, ‘I wish it was any of you’.

(A few nights later, when he and Conner were sitting quietly on the Tower’s roof, the clone took Tim’s hand with his own, his lack of red string blatantly obvious as he said ‘If I had any, I wish it could be you’. To this day, it’s the sweetest thing anyone ever said to him)

He is so, so tired, and he’s only sixteen. But keeping up with the shitfest that was the Battle for the Cowl, helping Dick while ignoring his red string (pulling him towards Nightwing, now Batman, stark contrast against the dark of his suit, with distracting insistency), dealing with Damian’s abuse as expected of him as the ‘mature, older brother’, coping with Bruce’s death, the shock of Dick throwing him, his soulmate, away so so easily…

(Shouldn't be surprising; Dick had been discarding him in favor of others since they met, shamelessly displaying his various relationships in front of him with an attitude that might be called cruel from anyone else but that just earned him playful shoves from other Leaguers while Tim was expected to swallow his pain, because a red string isn’t a promise, Dick is free… and yes, he knows that, but it doesn’t mean shit to his dying heart)

(Maybe, when he left for proof of Bruce being alive, it wasn’t so much for his old mentor than it was for himself)

----.----

Tim is seventeen and halfway across the world, looking at the string attached to his hand that never truly meant anything to any other than him (not to Bruce, who never took Dick aside and talked to him about consideration with his soul mate; not Dick's conquers, who never gave a fuck about the red string in the hands that touched their skin, even when a lot of them knew who was on the other end of it; not Dick himself, who after asking every thing out of Tim and having it, forcefully took the one thing Tim wouldn't give by choice and claimed Tim was his equal, his soulmate, so he never could be his sidekick... even if it was the first time ever that Dick even mentioned the string tying them both together), when he thinks 'you were always free; now, I'm freeing myself’.

He gingerly bites on the string, and with his other hand takes a handful of it and pulls.

The pain piercing his heart is expected, but not new. He had been feeling it since the first time he saw Dick's back as he walked away with someone else.

He times it carefully, too. He doesn't think Dick would care, but just in case, Tim waits until it's morning in Gotham, when he's sure Dick is probably sleeping after patrol.

Maybe he would wake up without noticing

---.---

In Gotham, Dick is carried by Alfred and Damian to the cave, when the new Batman's screams of pain woke everyone in the Manor up. They are suspecting cardiac arrest, and then Dick looks down to his hand and notices the string, always tense, signaling him where his north is, where Tim is, laying loose and lifeless.

He panics, asks Superman to track Tim down or something, and when the man confirms Tim is still alive somewhere in the Middle East, he knows.

And like a freight train, the parting words Kori told him the last time they saw each other hit him right in the chest.

"He isn't going to wait for you forever"

----.-----

When Tim does come back, at nineteen, it’s a quiet thing.

He spent the last how many days carefully setting his systems up, making sure his mainframe would outstand Oracle’s scrutiny when she realized he was back in town and tried to hack her way into his life.

(He didn’t blame her, of course not. Dick was charming enough, good enough, anyone he set his eyes into would be helpless to nothing but fall in his arms.

And, wasn’t Tim the one who would have been intruding, had he tried to chase after the first Robin? Everyone knew he and the original Batgirl were a perfect match, thousands of times better than Tim, whom Fate just wanted to screw over.

But not anymore)

The first thing he did, once the safe houses were chosen and his programs up and running, was to ruthlessly hack into the Batcomputer and take a look at patrol routes.

He would need to keep clear of Diamond District and Old Gotham, least he risked crossing paths with B and R. The Financial and City Hall Districts were apparently Batgirl’s playground for the night, and if he wanted to drop by and let Cass know he was back, he could always search for her by the Upper West Side down to Chinatown.

He would avoid the Upper East Side like the plague, though. Maybe Coventry too, just to be safe. Lots of skintight blue in that direction.

Which left… Crime Alley, the Bowery and Burnley, mainly. He needn't check to know who’s house that was.

And that’s how he ended, on his very first night back on the streets, dragging Red Hood’s bleeding ass away from a blowing up building.

-----.-----

Apparently, saving a recently rehabilitated murderous vigilante was a bonding experience, because Jason didn’t kick him out of his side of town, nor tell on him.

He couldn't, however, do anything to prevent the criminal gossip mile from spreading, and before a week had passed, half the city was aware of the new player on the board.

-----.------

Jason was taking a breather, smoking while sitting on his favorite rooftop, when the rustling sound of fabric told him his peace and quiet was over.

“I thought you were back at being N”, he greeted, not bothering to turn around or get up.

“B was out of town, and Robin needed someone to watch over him during patrol.”

A quick glance around had Hood snorting, “Then y’re doing a shitty job. Don’t see the midget anywhere.”

It would never NOT be weird to hear a strangled laugh coming out of the Bat suit, as tight and humorless as it was now. It seemed big ol Dick wasn’t doing so great tonight.

“Batgirl took him to a party in Diamond District. Gang war.”

He humms in response, not bothering to keep on the smalltalk. N, no, B was here for something, and it wasn’t Jason’s job to ask it out of him; if it was important, he would do it himself.

“Where is him, Hood?”, he finally went to the heart of the matter.

Jason tilted his head, still looking over his city, unmindful of the steps coming closer to his position, “Robin? Ya just said it, B. Going senile? Gang war, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t play around. You know I mean…”

Oh, yeah, Dickie still wasn’t sure what to call Timbo. Criminal gossip only went so far, for someone who didn’t bother to shout his hero name to everyone he beat up. It was very possible only Jason was aware of his new monicker. All gothamites knew was a young vigilante showed up recently, wearing red and black and hanging out with the Hood, which immediately upped his street rep to ‘not to be fucked with’.

“Lil red?”, he completed for his older brother, feeling both charitable and petty. Batman’s wince was more evident by the rustling sound of his cape; he had hit a sore spot, hadn’t he?

“Where? I’m not asking again.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not answering. Must be ‘roundere somewhere, the little creep.”

“Hood, I’m running out of patience.”

“And I’m out of cigarettes, your point? I don’t have him on a leash asshole. We just share the same hunting space, it’s not like we go home together and do face masks while we talk about feelings.”

They did go to a safespot, though, and share beer and pizza while cursing their relatives and Fate as a whole, but it wasn’t necessary information for the fucker. He just breathed in the last of his smoke before dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it, stretching as he did.

“Now, any more of this riveting conversation, or can I go? No, wait, it was a rhetorical question; get out of my part of town, ass. I’ve been plenty generous by letting you come this far, but our truce lasts as long as the lot of you don’t build any sandcastles on my playground and you know it. Now, scram.”

He could feel Dick’s reticence at leaving without what he came here for, but Oracle must be talking him into letting it be for tonight, because he didn't push. Jason turned just in the right moment to catch the way Dick looked down to his gloved hand, as if expecting the lifeless red string to be pulled taunt in Tim’s direction by some miracle. Jason felt the smallest ping of pity, quickly washed away by the memory of the younger hero’s haunted eyes as he told Jason the story of his severed soul bond and how he came to do it.

Thirty seconds after the bat vanished into the night, a little red bird landed softly on the spot next to him.

“Thanks, Hood”, he muttered, just as tired and hurting as he’d been ever since he saved Jason’s ass and they became partners, but with the smallest hint of lightness that made him prouder of driving Dick away than he’d ever been.

“Don’t mention it, but fair warning, the big B scomin back home in a few days, and he’s harder to kick out than a hurting, annoying bluebird.”

“I know”, Tim sighed, well aware of both facts. “I’ll play it by ear. For tonight, what about bashing some skulls and ruining Two Face’s new op? Good intel says it’s just a few blocks from here, and shattering bones always makes you smile.”

“Babybird, you speak the language of love.”

“Wasn’t that french?”

“I’m trying to compliment you, don’t be a smart ass about it.”

“I am smart, and I do have a good ass. That seems like an impossible request.”

----.----

#ask #last line #dicktim #but not #soulmate au #red string au #angst #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #red robin #nightwing #red hood #jason is a good bro #dick sucks as a soulmate #bruce is gonna be confused as fuck when he comes back #my writting #my writing

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highonchocolate · 4 years

Text

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 4

First Previous Next Ao3

Note: When italics are in quotations (“”) then Marinette is speaking French. If the italics don't have quotations, that’s people’s thoughts.

---

After patrol, Dick made his way to bed, mulling over the announcement Bruce had made at dinner. When he had seen that picture, he had wanted to join Jason on his Paris killing spree. That girl-Marinette, was it?- seemed to be in need of a better place to stay, and he was happy they could provide it to her. At the same time, he had no idea how to treat a young teenage girl! What does she like? Sports? Dresses? Both? None? He had no idea! As he lay there having a breakdown in a slight panic, he couldn’t force the image of her broken, bloody body out of his head. He wondered what kind of person that sort of assault would turn her into. He had seen greater people snap after such emotional and physical wounds.

Meanwhile, Jason, Tim and Damian were facing similar dilemmas over the girl in question.

Jason had no idea how to handle teenagers, especially ones that had been assaulted. Suffering through fucked-up shit like that would definitely leave you with some trauma. He thought to himself. Maybe we should ask her about her boundaries. His coping method involved wearing a red helmet and gallivanting around the rooftops of Gotham, looking for excuses to shoot people. He didn’t exactly think that was the best way to help her out. Sure, he grumbled, I’ll just walk over to her, hand her some Kevlar and a grapple before pushing her off the top of fucking Wayne Enterprises in hopes that she’ll get it right. ‘Cause that’s totally fucking healthy!

Tim on the other hand, was completely and utterly paranoid. Sure, he was definitely worried about that girl, considering that it looked like she had lost a lot of blood; but at the same time, he was worried about exposing their identities to her. Just one slip up, and she would know exactly what the Wayne family did at night. Not to mention that if they ended up getting injured, they’d have to figure out how to hide it from her. As he hacked into her school records, he noticed that she had filed several bullying complaints that had never been acknowledged, as well as a request to transfer classrooms that had been dismissed. Just how corrupt is this school?! He thought to himself as he saw how the principal-Monsieur Damocles- had bent to one girl’s every whim, just because her father was the Mayor! Abuse of power, and ignoring bullying reports? He thought to himself. This is not going to end well for them. With that, he completely launched himself into digging up every bit of dirt he could find on that school and it’s staff; completely forgetting about his original panic over being discovered.

And as for Damian, he was completely furious that there would be another person living in the Manor with them! Not to mention she had to go to Gotham Academy as well! He hadn’t even met this Marinette, and she was already proving to be a pain.

---

As the day of their Marinette’s arrival dawned bright and clear, four members of the family waited for the arrival of their last member and guest. Bruce was slightly nervous. He had never had a girl so young stay in the Manor before, and he didn’t know how to greet her. Did he shake her hand? Smile and wave? Shake her hand then smile? Wave then shake?

Dick, however, was full of excitement that their new guest was arriving in a couple of hours. He wondered if she knew any gymnastics, and if she would be willing to do some flexibility-related stretches and workouts with him.

All his other children were scattered throughout the city, doing various different things. Jason was up in the Manor library, reading his latest novel. Tim was in his office at WE, finishing up some paperwork he had wanted to fill out before Marinette arrived. Damian, thankfully, was at school, and wouldn’t be returning until later in the evening.

His thoughts were cut short by Tim’s arrival. As he walked into the kitchen and came back with a large mug of coffee, Jason trudged downstairs, and they all sat around in the living room continuing to work and read as they waited for Marinette and Alfred.

Half an hour later, Bruce was alerted to the gates in front of the Manor opening. They all lined up outside the house and watched as the sleek, black limo pulled up in front of the house.

They waited patiently as Alfred got out of the car and headed to the trunk before opening it and taking out a suitcase, and what looked like a foldable wheelchair. The four of them were confused. Why would she need a wheelchair? Surely her classmates hadn’t injured her that badly? Their thoughts were cut off by Alfred opening the back door on the opposite side of the car. He bent down and proceeded to open the wheelchair, before wheeling it around to face the family. When they caught their first glimpse of their guest, they were absolutely floored.

They had all seen many worse injuries during their nightly patrols, and several injured children years younger than her, but when they saw Marinette, they were shocked into silence at her battered appearance.

She was a decent height at around 5’ 4”, but compared to Bruce and Jason she was absolutely tiny. She had several dark purple-blue bruises that contrasted sharply with her pale skin as well as an angry gash covered in stitches on her forehead. She also sported a clunky cast and a thick brace on her leg and wrist. With her dark hair pulled into space buns, and blue eyes, as well as how small and bruised she looked, they all felt a rush of protectiveness flood through them when they saw her.

Their silent shock was interrupted by Jason leaning over to Bruce and whispering angrily “You said her classmates did this to her?!” At his exclamation, the other three tensed in anger at the reminder that her old friends had been the ones to injure her so severely. They were snapped out of their thoughts by Marinette speaking.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Wayne! Thank you for letting me stay in your house with you! I promise I’ll do my best to not be a bother to you and your family.” Her voice was slightly rough from when she had been crying, but she spoke sweetly, and politely. At her statement, Jason jumped in “No problem Pixie Stick! The only nuisance here is the Demon Spawn, and he’s not home yet.” She blinked up at him, before her mouth twitched up into a half-smile. “Thank you, Monsieur. I’m sorry but I didn’t get your name…” she trailed off.

“Sorry about that Sunshine, he’s Jason, I’m Dick, and the sleep deprived one is Tim.” Dick interjected. “And you don’t have to call us Monsieur, either. Just our names are fine.”

“Oh okay. Thank you Mister Bruce, and thank you Dick! I’m Marinette, but I’m sure you knew that already. You can call me Mari if you’d like. I’m not very picky about nicknames!” She laughed.

“Now if the young Masters are done with their introductions, I will gladly show Miss Marinette to her room.” Alfred cut in. “Thank you Monsieur Alfred, that would be wonderful.” The girl in question smiled up at him from her seat in the wheelchair before he wheeled her inside.

---

Marinette thanked Alfred as he wheeled her into her room. He mentioned that someone named “Damian” was at school, and that she would be attending school after she gets adjusted to the time difference. After he left, she opened her bag to let the Kwami out, and waited for their excited chattering to calm down. Once they had quieted, she spoke. “Hey Tikki? Do you think it was wrong to tell Alfred about the Miraculi being active in Paris?” she questioned as she fiddled with the straps on her bag. ”I was just so excited to meet another wielder that everything slipped out!”

The Kwami was quick to reassure her. “Oh no Marinette, it's okay. SInce you are the Guardian now, you need all the help you can get. And besides, you already recognized each other’s auras, so there was no point in trying to hide it!” She flew up to her face and patted her unbruised cheek gently.

“Oh no! I completely forgot to tell Alfred that I’m the Guardian!” She shrieked. “What if he gets mad at me for being too inexperienced?! He’ll kick me out and I’ll have to live on the streets! Then I’ll end up becoming part of the Crime Alley hierarchy, living alone in an abandoned building with a stray cat named Tommy! Tikki this is a disaster! A disaster!!” She would have continued to ramble in french, if it wasn't for the fact that Wayzz had flown up to her and reminded her that she needed to shower because she had been on an airplane and in the airport.

Several curses, near falls, and plastic cast coverings later, Marinette limped out of the shower, exhausted but clean. She quickly tied her hair onto a messy bun before changing into warm leggings (although she couldn’t fully pull one side down due to her cast) and a sweater. Gotham was cold! She let the Kwami roam around her giant room as she put her clothes into her closet.

After settling in, she plugged in her phone and texted her friends.

FashionableBug: Just got everything organized and took a shower. Turns out M. Wayne has four kids! I met Dick, Jason and Tim, and apparently Damian is at school.

QueenofMean: Maribug! How dare u not text us as soon as you arrived! Ur plane landed over three hours ago!

Snakey Boi: Chlo’s right, Mari. We were all worried bout u.

FahsionableBug: Sorry u guys. Everything was going so fast I completely 4got!

FashionableBug: Also I met a Peacock wielder!!!!!!!

You’reUnderAgreste: Really?! Buginette thats amazingggg

DragonGurl: Wonderful news indeed, Mari. They must have lots of advice for you.

QueenofMean: !!!!!!

QueenofMean: Nettie thats awesome!!!!!!

SnakeyBoi: Thats totally great!

SnakeyBoi: Also who is it???

FashionableBug: lol Luka its Alfred their butler. Tho hes more like a grandfather

FashionableBug: Anyways, I’m going to go find the kitchen. I wanna make the Kwami some macarons!

FashionableBug: Bye!!!

DragonGurl: Bye Marinette.

You’reUnderAgreste: Bye Bugaboo!

QueenofMean: Bye Bug!

SnakeyBoi: Bye Mari!

Marinette smiled as she put her phone down. Glancing over at the Kwami flying around the room, she stretched before calling out “I’m going to see if I can bake in the kitchen. Do any of you want to join me?” Before she had even finished her sentence Tikki and Kaalki were flying over to her and nestling in her bun. Laughing at their antics, she maneuvered herself into the chair before wheeling herself down the hall. She hadn’t gone very far when she bumped into Alfred walking out of another door. "Salut, Monsieur Alfred! Would you mind showing me where the kitchen is? I was thinking of making some sweet treats for my...friends.” At her statement, Tikki and Kaalki poked their heads out of her bun to wave, before hiding again. Smiling, Alfred turned to her and spoke. “Of course Guardian. Right this way.” Her eyes darted to meet his hesitantly. “You aren’t mad that I’m the Guardian?” Alfred paused and looked her directly in the eyes. “Miss Marinette, I am in no way questioning your capabilities as a Guardian. You are very powerful, and I have no doubt you will do an amazing job. I am simply upset over how you seem to have no Mentor or any form of Guidance to help you.” Sighing in relief, she smiled. “Well, my old Master lost his memories because he had to give up his memories after being compromised. I do have the Grimoire though, and I was also hoping you would help me as well?” She questioned, looking up at him hesitantly. As they walked into the kitchen, he bowed to her and stated “It would be my greatest honor to assist you, Great Guardian.” She laughed and thanked him before beginning to bake.

She hummed a simple melody designed to bring about calm and peace, and soon she was happily working in her own tranquil little bubble.

An hour later, as she was frosting the little pastries, Jason walked in, drawn by the smell of sugar and freshly baked goods. “Hey Alfred! What cooki-” he cut himself off. “Sorry Pixie Stick, I thought you were Alfred. Only he can make something worth eating in this house!”

“Oh it’s no problem Jason, I was just making macarons. My parents own a bakery, so I’m kinda used to just baking whenever.” She laughed softly

“Damn Pixie, macarons?! You haven’t been here a day, and you’re already much nicer than all my asshole brothers!”

“Yeah, well these are for after dinner, so no touching ‘till then!” She warned.

He sat at the counter and scrolled through his phone as she decorated the pastries. Soon enough, she had them all completed and proceeded to carefully take the tray and wheel over to the fridge. Before she could move an inch, Jason had leapt up and placed the tray in its designated spot. “Sorry Pix, but I’ll get that for ya. We don’t need you accidentally crashing or dropping these heavenly treats!” He laughed.

She crossed her arms and pouted up at him, before her mouth stretched into a wide grin. As she wheeled herself into the dining room, she swiftly turned her head and stuck her tongue out before disappearing through the door into the room beyond.

---

Dinner with the Wayne family was a rambunctious affair. Dick and Jason bantered good-naturedly over their meals as Bruce sighed tiredly in the background. Tim moved lethargically, downing giant gulps of coffee as he ate his meal. Damian apparently was studying with his friend Jon, and therefore wouldn't be eating with them. They all smiled and laughed as they talked through dinner. Marinette told them about her friends, before adding that they’d probably video call her tomorrow so they could meet the family. Bruce assured her that it was not a problem and added that he would be glad to speak with her parents. After eating, she headed up to her room to work on the outfit she had been sketching on the plane.

She immersed herself in designing, and ended up finally going to sleep shortly after midnight. The Kwami flew over to their little nest of pillows and blankets, and she turned off the lights before drifting off to sleep. Her dreams were plagued by nightmares of looming shadows and ethereal dark butterflies destroying the world in fire. She watched in helpless terror, stuck in her Ladybug persona, unable help as the world burned. The horrific dreamscape was shattered by the sound of her phone blaring out an Akuma alarm.

She leaped out of bed and shut off the shrill noise as she called for Tikki and Kaalki before leaping through the portal and into Paris.

She ended up in a ravaged, unrecognizable landscape covered in flames. Looks like her dream had been semi-accurate after all. The Eiffel Tower was partially melted, and fires were cropping up all over the city. The four simultaneous thuds behind her signified the arrival of her team. As one they looked upon their ravaged city and charged the Akuma.

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #lila rossi #alya cesaire #lila salt #class salt

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thattimdrakeguy · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Bruce hugs Tim after Tim fought with Jack

Alright, fellas, gonna be honest. Got way into the whys and hows of the actual fight with Jack over the actual comforting hug with Bruce.

It’s in there, oh boy it’s there, but I’m curious to see if this thing even fits into a Tumblr post cause I don’t know what the limits are actually.

So uh,

Trigger Warnings for: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Mentions of Drugs, Threats of the Police (is that a trigger warning? cause I feel like it should be nowadays), traumatization, and potentially more. Oh, and Alfred has a gun but idk if that falls into any triggers.

It’s not a “Jack is evil” fiction. I tried to stay away from that. But I didn’t try to not make him do something I did feel like he’d do at the same time. He never hits Tim, I’ll say that.

Hoping it’s not too bad. I feel it’s half decent. So ayy.

Wasn’t sure what to call it.

Maybe “Assumptions and Consequences” idk.

Also probably has lots of typos and grammar mistakes so sorry for that lol.

Tim Drake loved his dad. His biological mother had already died, and Jack was all Tim had. Dana Winters was only Jack’s girlfriend who was wanting to become Tim’s mother, but it hadn't happened quite yet. So Tim only had one parent left, and man, did it suck to have a parent sometimes when you’re Robin. All the lying from having to be Robin drove Tim mad some days. Plus neither of them were quite compatible with one another. Honestly how were they even related?

Jack thought Tim was a bad kid. Well, he didn’t, but look at the evidence. Tim kept sneaking out, leaving school early, getting into fights. That was a kid acting out if Jack ever knew, and Jack would blame himself, until he couldn’t be bothered about it. Was it Jack’s fault? Jack had a habit of forgetting it a day or two after an accident. So he never really did improve yet, despite saying he would.

But the thing was, Tim wasn’t a bad kid. He was a great kid; a really great kid. Tim Drake was Robin the Boy Wonder. Not that he was the most talented, or most efficient at being Robin, but Tim filled the job out well. Being a good kid as Robin, meant having to be a bad kid as Tim though. When Tim saw bad things happening, Tim had to disappear, for Robin to take a beating, and for Tim to keep the bruises.

One day it got too much for Jack to handle. Tim wasn’t even home yet, and Jack’s face was red. The man of the house kept pacing back and forth really considering what he had to do to contain Tim this time. In his sea of tension he started biting down on his fist to get out some of the anger but it wasn’t stopping. What would Tim’s mother think of Tim right now? All those years of Janet protecting Tim and coddling him, and all it took was--what a few years for Tim to turn into this? Janet would’ve been so disappointed in him.

Jack sat down in his recliner past midnight to wait for his son, and only seconds after the creaking sound of his chair did he hear the doorknob twisting on the opening door that must’ve been his son. Must’ve been a lazy day for Tim. Normally Tim would come in through the window of his bedroom. Jack was actually listening for a creak on the walls. After a quick sigh that came deep within the chest, Jack tossed down his remote swiftly onto the table making a loud smacking sound, as he stood up and turned around.

It was darkly lit like a shadowy alley way in the house. All Jack wanted to do was scare the crap out of Tim. He didn’t care how small Tim was, or how young he was, if Tim was so willing to let Jack be scared, Jack thought it only made sense for him to scare Tim right back to make it only fair. Jack grabbed a flashlight on the coffee table and shined it in the eyes of the small figure that stood right in his doorway. And he made sure to make himself seem as big as he possibly could. Standing up straight, broadening his shoulders, and holding his flashlight up higher.

He prepared his voice as something similar to Clint Eastwood. All he did all day was watch movies and take phone calls, and it really showed. “Tim, do you mind telling me, why in God’s green hell are you so damn f--” Jack quickly squinted his eyes. This wasn’t Tim he was looking at. It was Ariana Dzerchenko, and she was shaking in her boots, while Jack seemed disappointed it wasn’t his son. “What the hell are doing in my damn house?! You’re telling me at 3 A-#@!@#-M you don’t have anything better to do, then open my door when I never even gave you a key? My son isn’t even here. You trying to steal from me?” Jack went over to grab her arm after the brash accusation. “Get over here, I’m calling your Uncle.”

Ariana moved her arm away and backed outside, still shaking. She stared at Jack scared, and concerned. Ariana could tell he was disappointed for the wrong reasons

“Look, it’s either in my house and I call your uncle, and you take another foot and it’s the police.” grunted Jack. He stopped bothering doing the gravelly voice, but he was still oh-so-damned pissed. After Ariana didn’t bother making any move of any sorts, Jack relented and tried to talk a little more normal. “Do you know where Tim is?” he asked like it was only the afternoon and he happened to pass her in the park.

“N-no.” was the only word Ariana could manage to get passed her lips.

Jack’s brow lowered, and angled. “Then why are you here, Miss?” He took a step closer to Ariana. “And be honest.”

“T-Tim, uh, he, uh, he asked me to bring back this and put it on the kitchen counter.” the girl held up the house key. “And all he said to me was that he was going to be late. Really late, and that he didn’t want his dad to worry again.”

All Ariana could see of Jack was the way the shadows contoured around his aging face. Making him not even look human. It made him look paler, with black eyes and a still face that would barely move except when it got angrier.

“He tell you where he was?” Jack asked again as he turned his head to the left. His left ear was his good ear.

“No, sir. He just sounded...swollen-y.”

“Swollen?”

“Like he just got hit in the face again.”

“Did you hear anything else?”

“A really loud engine and some gunshots later when I called him. Look, Mister, I’m really worried about him too. I didn’t even want to come over here--but I was just--I was just hoping he’d be here again maybe. Do you know what he could be doing?”

“Hell no. At this point my son doesn’t tell me anything. All I can guess is that the son of mine, I spent all that money on, is dealing drugs, like my money isn’t good enough for him.”

“Drugs? Timmy? Drugs? I’m not his parent or anything, I’m just his friend, but Tim would never do anything like that. I think he’s in trouble in another way.”

“That’s what I thought, but somehow every week I’m getting a call from the school counselor telling me that my small-fry son is dealing with a bruise of some kind. They found him passed out in school one time, and I found dirt marks on the outside of his window. What kind of normal former-board-school-student do you hear about ending up like that?”

“But Tim went on for hours one time about how he hates drugs. He saw a kid with a bag of something and wouldn’t stop ranting for what felt like an hour. He--”

“Ari--”

“--wouldn’t ever--”

“You can go home, Ariana! And thank you for your time. I won’t tell the police, or your uncle. But just go home now.”

“I--” Ariana closed her eyes and realized she better just go. “Okay. Okay, I’ll...go. Just tell me Tim’s okay when he comes back. And--if it actually ends up being drugs...tell him--tell him we’re over.” she fled the scene not being able to handle it anymore.

Jack didn’t answer back, but he knew that she knew he wasn’t going to tell her anything that was going to happen. Once he heard a ruffling in the bush right where Tim’s room would be, he knew that the boy came home. Taking another chest deep breath he slowly walked to that wall where he saw Tim, and he used the flashlight on him for real this time.

That middle parted bowl cut, and baby-face were impossible to misidentify. His already large eyes grew larger and he looked like he saw an entire army of ghosts coming for his head. Sneaking into his own house was something he’s done dozens of times. Tim loved sneaky time, but this time he thought he really messed it up. His Robin career and life flashed right in front of his eyes.

Nothing in Jack’s mind resembled pleasant. Everything was fire and disappointment. Actually seeing his son in the act of sneaking around outside, when he should be in bed made everything he thought felt true as the solution to a math problem. Just like the outlaws in the westerns he watched, Jack narrowed his eyes as he paid attention to his target. He really needed to get outside himself fast.

Tim gasped, as his mind had no thoughts besides a realization that his dad finally caught him sneaking in. “Dad?!” he uttered before being grabbed by the collar of his sweater.

“So you finally decided that my house is better than whatever alley you've been laying in every night?” pushing himself closer to Tim, Jack made it so the only thing he could see of Tim was the panic in his baby blue eyes.

Meanwhile, all Tim could see was the anger in his dad’s face. “W-what are you talking about?!” Tim’s voice cracked. He knew his dad thought something was going on, but he never imagined it’d be this intense. He could break the grip on Jack at any time, but would Jack find that even more suspicious? Tim still had Dana thinking he was too small to play football. Could Jack believe Tim would be able to take down someone over a foot his own size?

“The drugs, Tim. The drugs.” The hoarseness to Jack’s voice was painful. If his hand was around Tim’s neck and not just his collar, he’d be strangling the kid. “I've been staying up each night for the past three days waiting for you to come home. To have a fatherly chat, but all I ever hear is you sneaking up the wall, and I’ve had enough of that. I try to be a father, and you just try to treat me like an obstacle. Is all I am to you, is in your way, Tim? I paid for your freaking ninja camp, and it ends within a week of you being there. If the people running the camp didn’t end up in jail, I’d have the mind to ask them what you exactly did there. A fake piercing, and fake stubble to look tougher? I’d be real curious to know where exactly a 14-year-old kid can buy a fake stubble.”

Tim was really doing his best to try and seem calm. If he didn’t everything would get much worse. Then it donned on him that he was treating his own dad like he would a master criminal in the middle of a breakdown. “Dad, I really know this looks bad. I really do. Trust me. But this isn’t at all like what it seems.”

“Answer me immediately: If I searched your room would I find drugs? Narcotics? Booze?”

Booze. Tim could smell the booze in his dad’s breath. If Tim showed up just a bit earlier it wouldn’t have been this bad. And you know Tim would beat himself up over that when he shouldn’t.

“No, you wouldn’t find anything of the sort. I need you to listen, I’m going to need you to let go of me, and put down the light. It’s hurting me.” Another half second passed where Tim’s brain suddenly tried to process this. And like someone running away from the scene, it hurt too bad to stay on it. “I don’t deal drugs...I--I stop people from selling drugs!” Even in a moment like this, not having to lie for once felt like a weight off of Tim’s shoulders.

The man standing above Tim was about to blind him with that flashlight, but he eventually dropped Tim down onto the wet and muddy grass below them. Where he left him lay and to get mud all over his clothes without any sense of regret. Jack could only think of his late wife. Which seemed rare ever since he got to know Dana better. Strangely, this Janet that Jack was remembering seemed to be a lot more on his side than anyone that knew them back then would remember.

“Don’t talk down to me.” said Jack in an uncomfortably soft voice. “I let you stay in my house because I loved you enough to let you. Your room is my property, everything in there was bought with my money.” The pace he spoke was slow and methodical. His mind was quiet and released. “I am going to look in your room. You’re going to stay here, and when I come back to you. I’ll decide then what’s going to happen to you.”

Should Tim speak? Should he not? What was better right then? When he heard Jack talk about his room, he wasn’t worried about the punishment he’d have to deal with. All he was worried about was any proof about being Robin. That wasn’t just Tim’s own secret to keep. It was a secret he had to share, and was honored to share.

“I--I can’t let you do that, sir.” another voice crack from the kid.

“I bet I know why.” spoke Jack with full eye contact. To him he wasn’t lying to himself. It was a fact he had to find the evidence for. “Let it be known by the way, that I don’t hate you. I’m scared for you. But you also make it awfully hard to love you lately.”

That was one hit Tim couldn’t dodge.

Being 3 AM not too many people were able to witness any of this happening, except for one particular neighbor in Alfred Pennyworth. He was tidying up around the side windows on the second floor when he could see some sort of commotion at the Drake residence. Using binoculars like a bird watcher that exclusively looks for Robins, he saw Tim on the ground and Tim’s dad above him. That wasn’t going to fly past anyone in Stately Wayne Manor.

Very quickly he let Bruce know that Tim needed help and why. It’d only take a few minutes for him to return to his home, but it felt crucial. Tim needed a father figure that felt like he’d protect him, and not vilify him. In no world is Batman the best for the job of dad, but he gave it his best unlike Jack.

Outside it was wet from the harsh rain earlier in the evening. Most of the lights in the neighbors were out, signifying they had gone to sleep. A foot felt like a yard when everything was so quiet and dark.

So though the owner of the manor wouldn’t exactly appreciate it, Alfred brought a small fire-arm in the inner pocket of his suit jacket just in case things went worse. Very quickly he rushed his way over to Tim, making it just after Jack entered the Drake residence again. Tim still seemed in such a shock that he didn’t even try to get himself up.

In his head, Tim meant to go after his dad, but his mental legs just gave out on him. Leaving him to sit in the mud as he panics about what could happen next. He recounted where all of his Robin stuff was. During his messy messy thoughts he was almost certain that it was all on, wearing it under his clothes. Confidence was never Tim’s highest attribute though. Normally it was his perceptiveness, but it was failing him. He was lucky he could still recognize Alfred.

“Alfred?” said a confused Tim who was dazed more and more as the night went on.

“Young Master Timothy, are you alright?” greeted the Butler as he helped Tim up to see his feet. “I didn’t see everything, but I saw everything I needed to.” He quickly noticed a bruise on Tim’s cheek. “Young sir, did he do this to you, or was it another person?”

“Who’s ‘he’?” Tim’s eyes widened and looked past Alfred. “Dad?”

Alfred may have been an older man, but he wasn’t a man you should bother trying to stand taller than. The quiet, noble man turned around promptly and stood his ground and he saw fit. Only reaching his hand in, just in case, with no intent on striking first. When Alfred turned around to see the returning Jack, there wasn’t any cowardice within him. Former British Secret Service agent Alfred Pennyworth could get the drop on anyone if he tried hard enough, besides those with powers. Tim’s dad wasn’t someone with powers, so Alfred had his number ready just in case.

Jack on the other hand only had a vague sense of right and wrong keeping him from hurting anyone. Just sick of the lies, and obvious sneaking around. Whoever thought Jack was a good dad never really saw enough of him.

“Who--Are you--are you Wayne’s butler? Did he call you?” Jack asked, pointing at Tim. “The kid’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s just being sensitive.”

“Jack Drake, I want to let you know that I am not a blind man, nor an easily fooled man. And that all I see when I look into the eye’s a man such as you, that all I see is an inner-pain that I’ve seen nearly everyday since my eyes could first see, and my mind could first retain thought. All you do is feel bitter, distract yourself, and in the moments where you can’t, you take it out on everyone else. If I look at the ground behind me, I can see a very brave boy have a fear so bad that he didn’t even want to get out of the mud. Either meaning he’s about to be killed, or he’s being traumatized, and I don’t see a gun in your hand. So sit down and get some rest, and think about it. While I’ll take young Timothy with me where he’ll be safe for the night, sir.”

“You know I’m not going to let you do that.” growled Jack.

“Then allow me to let you know that in my inner jacket pocket I have a firearm that you know I’ll use. Not to aim at your head, but below the waist where, if you don’t already know, it won’t count for attempted murder.”

“I’ll call the cops on you then, you bum. You’ve freeloaded on Wayne before that man could walk. To this city you’re nobody but the guy that used to wipe Wayne’s ass.”

“I’m mighty gracious I don’t have any worry of convincing you of anything. The reputation I actually do have serves me enough just fine. As for...your reckless statement on the police, I should let you know we have cameras showing everything that happened. You wouldn’t be the one winning in court.” Alfred didn’t look pleased when he took another glance at Tim who was struggling to process any of this. Alfred was there in the same home Tim was in when he found out his mother died. This wasn’t something Alfred enjoyed doing. “You can come with me now, Timothy. We’ll figure this out, alright?”

Surprisingly, Jack let them walk away. Jack wasn’t an evil man. But not being evil doesn’t equal being good. Life was just complicated, and so was he. Did he regret his actions? Well, he isn’t a monster. Of course he did--Well, maybe he did. Who really freaking knew. But did he know why exactly he did if he had? Not quite. Was he going to get better? There was going to be a while before that’d happen.

Inside Tim’s own heart he felt dead. The remains of his biological family seemed to break down into crumbs of dust. Where was home anymore? Jack didn’t say he wasn’t allowed to come back home, but the message was made plenty clear that he couldn’t go back home easily. Actually, Tim didn't know if he wanted to go home after that. Even for such a great detective, Tim had no clue what his dad was going to be like after that.

Mud. Ew, the mud. It was all over Tim’s clothes and hands from his fall. It certainly wasn’t going to help Tim’s mood.

“Young Master Timothy, I think it’d be in your best interest to get a bath and relax. You can give me your clothes for me to wash, and I’m sure we have some of your clothes around here somewhere for you to lay around in.” he stated as he opened the door to Stately Wayne Manor for Tim.

Tim barely said any words, and said none of all during the walk to the Manor. “Oh, okay, Alfie.” Even his tone of voice seemed down on himself.

Seeing Tim so frozen stiff over it was breaking Alfred’s heart bit by bit. He’s seen Tim shake in fear, he’s seen him panic, but never frozen. This really was different. It was obvious it would be, but seeing it in person is always a different feeling. As they went up stairs you wouldn’t know Tim was an athlete. Alfred saw how natural Tim was at acrobatics in front of his own eyes, and now he saw the young boy struggling going up stairs.

Batman wasn’t able to make it till after Tim was in the bath. So he’d have to wait a bit to speak with him. He took off his cowl and how upset he was, was immediately evident. He had a stubble covered frown, and was breathing heavily, which was odd since he came home in the Batwing. As someone who stops domestic disturbances like this when he has to, he was fuming.

“We have to do something about Jack Drake, Alfred.” said Bruce drinking the tea Alfred gave them, as they waited for Tim in the kitchen.

“Something involving the courts may I assume?” assumed Alfred.

Bruce shook his head. “No. At least not yet, unfortunately.”

“Sir, but we have the evidence. There’s no doubt we’d win.”

“He’s still Tim’s father. That means something, and is a bond that’s hard to break, and shouldn’t be broken.”

“If I was only a second or two late, I would say it’s accurate to assume Mister Jack Drake was going to strike Timothy. He reeked of liquor and tossed him onto the ground.”

“But he didn’t hit him. Sounding harsh isn’t my imperative. But accusing a child of doing something they didn’t do, wouldn’t classify as anything that’d allow Tim to leave. And again, Tim and Jack are family. We shouldn’t break a family. That isn’t a good goal to set.”

“Are you really defending a man that didn’t bother to raise his own son, that he threatened with boarding school over something he should be more sympathetic with, and berates him when Tim actually acts his own age? People can change, Master Wayne, but when people are constantly given chances, those chances should run out eventually.”

“What would you suggest, Alfred? I’m doing what's best for Tim in my eyes. If we took him from his dad he’d hate us forever. Once Tim is able to function properly again, he’ll just look at it like another incident in his life. He’ll want to go back whether he wants to or not, because in his heart he loves his father.”

“Please forgive me for what I’m about to say, Master Wayne. But your over glorification of genetic parents because of the death of your own seems to have left you forgetting that whether biological or not, your family isn’t truly who’s related to you by blood.” Alfred sighed having to speak in such a rough way. “You’ve brought in Master Grayson as your ward, and Master Todd as your son. Family is who you bring in close and who you choose to stay with, and if you all care for one another. Sir, you know this best. And I’m not forgetful that they had no parents left when you brought them in, but don’t forget that just because they live right beside your home that damage isn’t being done to a child.”

The chair Bruce was sitting on squeaked as he moved back to stand up. He made his way up the stairs to where Tim was getting a bath. He took a deep breath, and took a moment to consider his actions, and knocked on the door.

“Tim--Tim are you decent? I’d like to speak to you about what happened. Now, it doesn’t have to be right this moment. Take any moment you need. But we need to know if--”

In a quick unhesitating moment, the door opened, and Tim never looked smaller to Bruce. The vulnerable look in his eye mixed with the oversized sweater he had on. The kid was still damp from a poor job drying himself, but it didn’t stop him from leaping at Bruce and putting his arms around him for a hug. Tim rested his head on Bruce’s chest as it was the highest he could reach, and he squeezed as hard as he could. A slight tear went down Tim’s face. Did he hear Alfred and Bruce? In the moment it didn’t matter, and Bruce hugged him back in a fatherly embrace. Neither of them knew what to do.

As the hug continued on longer Bruce lifted Tim into the air in a similar matter as Jack and Tim as Tim went to make sure they were okay during No Man’s Land. Would Tim remember that and choose to stay with Jack? Did Tim still believe Jack would get better? Or would Bruce’s rare act of physical affection convince Tim to tell everything he knew to make a case to stay with Bruce? Did it even matter yet?

It felt like a part of Tim’s life died, but as an era of your life is killed, another is born. Something new you have to make the best out of. Maybe the era will stay and it’ll get better, or maybe not. The future was a mystery, and could be scary. If it wasn’t then people wouldn’t be pretending to be fortune tellers. Sometimes though, it’s best just to remember and focus on the present.

“I love you, R--um, Tim. I hope you know this. I care about you, and want to protect you for as long as I can, and if needed I’m absolutely willing to--” Bruce was cut off by a still tearful Tim.

“I love you too, Bruce.”

#Tim Drake #Robin #Alfred Pennyworth #Jack Drake #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Fan fics #Fan fictions

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jee-ns · 3 years

Text

(ii) ladybugs. // kjn. // one-shot.

you couldn’t do anything. it was a curse you thought. all these years you’ve been through you’ve been waiting for this day. but what’s stopping you? what if you don’t want to get better. what if you wanted to stay this way. she was a miracle. that should’ve happened a long time ago.

note : i also rushed this one so sorry for the mistakes and confusions LOL - admin 🗣

warnings : violence, alcohol , abusive behaviour, mentions of death.

words : 1.3k

next : (iii) ladybugs

you looked outside the window of the dining area which had the whole view of the garden. it really captured the garden’s beauty. everything was perfect. it was a windy day. so you hoped you wouldn’t be sweating again if you meet that girl yesterday.

your face redden at the thought. god im a narcissist. but you crossed your fingers so you’d meet her again today.

after finishing the meal you took a walk outside the house and ran some errands in this small town. you met mr bae and he was just exquisite. he’s the owner of the convenience store that yehan usually goes to. so after hearing that yehan was your caretaker. he didn’t hesitate to say “if you need any help just come to me”

you also met mrs choi who’s the owner of the bakery you drove past yesterday when you arrived. the interior of the place really captured your attention.

walking down the thin lane where only one car can go through. you thought about your itinerary for today.

1. get home

2. help yehan put the groceries away

3. go outside (to see the girl again)

there’s something about the girl. your so hooked on her. come to think of it “i don’t even know her name” you cam to a stop with your mouth agape. you blink twice and put a pin to ask her what her name was when you get home. if she was there again.

upon arriving, yehan greeted you and you offered to help her. she denied once again "yehan .. groceries doesn't irregulate my heartbeat. don't worry to much" you held her hand that was going for the plastic and looked at her with sincerity. she let out a breath that was laced with worry. "fine.."

you maneuvered around the kitchen swiftly, figuring out where each food belongs and remembering them so you could come back at night and have a snack. you glance outside to catch a glimpse of the girl. she wasn't there. your mood went sour after that. you didn't want to go outside anymore. but you went anyway cause stress isn't good for your heart.

the wind of the warm day instantly makes your mood less sour. you took a walk around the garden, walking through the flower field, avoiding the tree for some reason. 'the tulips were a nice addition to the garden' you thought. then something caught your eye. it was a red ball. you furrowed your eyebrows. 'why would this be here?'

you grabbed it and smiled softly. you pulled it out the field. it looked like a dodge ball from gym class. you've never really had fun with it since you didn't have the ability to play dodgeball . . . yet. you set it down for a while not knowing what to do with it.

“kick it”

you heard from behind. you turned around. it was the girl from yesterday. your forehead crinkled with curiosity so you did what she told you to. you kicked it as hard as you can. the ball went rolling near the entrance to the backyard.

you had fun kicking the ball around. until “y/n don’t play with the ball. your heart rate!” you heard yehan yelled where she stood in the door frame. she had her hands out with an irritated face on.

you lowered your head and sighed. you walked towards her and handed her the ball. she ruffled your hair making it a bit messier. “you know why im taking it from you right?” she questions as you only nodded and walked away.

you walked back to the tree and slumped down on the trunk of the wood. looking slumped. you heard the sound of a stomp on the grass. like some landed on it “gee that was harsh”

you looked up and it was the girl again. “hey” you said lowly with your head still down. she hopped over your leg and crouched down. with instinct looked up and saw her smiling softly down at you. she moved a strand of hair away from your face. the gesture made your heart melt with the way she did it so softly.

"c'mon" she said as she tucked your hair behind your ear and held out a hand for you. you took it and stood up. she looked back and you with a gummy grin. "follow me" she pulled you to the leaf wall that serves as a fence. there was a small gap between the different bushes. she squeeze between the bushes and you could see her face through all the leaves. she had an encouraging smile "c'mon!" she urged you.

you quickly squirmed through the bushes and she quickly grabbed your hand again and dragged you through the woods, trusting her with where she was going and you just let your legs follow her. while she was dragging you, you looked around and appreciated the beauty of nature. the rays off light breaking through the tree branches. you saw birds soaring over the trees in the blue sky.

looking around made you unaware of where she was taking you. she suddenly came to a stop and you tripped over and fell to your face on the cold hard ground. you heard a gasp coming from the girl. you could also hear her chuckle a little. she helped you up "im sorry about that." you got up a little loopsy by the hit to the head.

you looked up to see her face turn from a grin to a worried look. "why" you said as you wipped your face to avoid from being embarrassed by how your dirty face would look after the fall. then, you suddenly felt a sting on your cheekbone. you hissed and the girl pulled your hand away from it. she planted a kiss over the cut.

"there i kissed it better" she said with a grin

you hummed and looked down while you take form into being a tomato. "i like how you look" you perked your head up. "the scar just makes you look brave and courageous" you chuckled at her statement. you were far from brave evermore courageous. you've spent half of your life afraid of everything and anything because in every situation there's a slight chance of you dying.

"come here." she patted beside her. she was sitting under a tree. you finally realized you were right in front of a lake. you took a seat beside her. the sound of the water mingling with each other filled the silence between you two. you suddenly remembered the question that has been bugging you all day. "um hey what's your name? i dont mean to be rude but when we met you didn't-"

"jennie" she cut your rambling off.

"jennie" you tried saying it. trying to get the feel of how it rolls off your tongue. you smiled and leaned your head on the tree bark. this is one of the most exciting days you've ever had in your life. "this is where i go when i need to calm down." you looked at jennie while she looked over the lake. her hand was fidgeting with a bracelet with a ladybug on it. you didn't notice the bracelet on her before.

"you like ladybugs?" she looked at your for awhile before looking down at her bracelet. "alot actually" she said with a giggle at the end of her sentence. "i had a small plushy her name was lily. she was the luckiest ladybug there was. we had great adventures together. she got hurt once on a mission together. her left antenna got ripped off on a tree branch. that's the reason why she's the most special. cause no matter what life throws at you. you'll still have to get back on your feet. alone. sadly, i left her." she said smiling at the start then she frowned. "where did you left her?"

"at my house."

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hskrealm · 4 years

Text

memories. (m)

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: angst, smut, a liiittle bit of fluff in some places

word count: 6.2k (it wasn’t supposed to be this LONG IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE)

warnings: eh where do i start... reader is VERY traumatized, she’s kinda crazy too (just a little) mentions of major character death, familial issues, this fic is just very dark for like the first 2k words lol, yoongi loves his fucking sword, commoner!yoongi, king!yoongi, criminal!reader, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, hair pulling, dom!yoongi, etc.

summary: “We can save the details for later. I accept your apology, and I really want to fucking kiss you.”

notes: inspired by @dontaskshhhhh and the daechwita mv. there’s probably many typos as usual y’all—

Even though you were a lowlife, you couldn’t stand being handled roughly.

It wasn’t your fault that you had an unfortunate upbringing. Your parents were very wealthy when you were born, but after the family business failed due to illegal scamming and falsifying of information, you were left to support yourself.

Literally. They didn’t give you a single thing to live off of after the age of five, which was fine. Your grandparents took after you, and once you were able to have a say in it, you decided to never set foot in the presence of your mother and father again if you could help it.

All was fine up for the next twelve years after that, until your grandparents bailed out on you too. Something about not having the funds to support all three of you financially, although they had several beach houses to their names, and enormous retirement checks to rely on.

You had gotten used to being given up on by this point, so you weren’t as emotionally devastated as you should’ve been when you’d come home from school one day, and your grandparents had all of your belongings packed up by the front door with a nice little note on top to let you know that you’d have to find somewhere else to lay your head.

They didn’t even have the decency to tell you to fuck off in person. You laugh sometimes thinking about it, since that’s all you could do now. The past was behind you, and you can’t change it. You didn’t really want to, either, because you learned quite a bit from your younger self.

For starters, you learned from your previous encounters to never lay your trust in anyone ever again, even if they were to offer you everything you needed and more. You’d made this mistake too many times to make it again. Besides, if you couldn’t trust your own parents, then you’d be setting yourself up for failure if you decided to seek assurance in a stranger... no matter the relationship you may have developed with them.

Although you knew you couldn’t trust anyone, you quickly learned that it was okay to take advantage of help when it was given to you.

That is how you got back on your feet, after all.

You met a good group of people.

Well, good to you, but not to the law, or outsiders.

You didn’t trust them, but you allowed them to take you in. They were just like you; lost and traumatized, but they confided in one another. They didn’t really have a choice, since they only had each other.

You had an amazing run with them. They made you laugh, cry, and they supported you. Just like family, you supposed. You never had a stable family to compare the kind of love they gave you to, but you figured it’d be something similar.

You never had an abundance of anything, but you had just enough, and that was okay. You were never the type of girl who desired to live lavishly anyway.

It was remarkably easy for you to pick up on their habits. You had become keen on cheating, lying, and stealing after only two months of being in their company. It came easily to you, and you used your newly developed skills to wiggle your way in and out of certain situations.

You couldn’t wiggle your way out of this one, though. The cuffs on your wrists wouldn’t allow for that.

You sucked in a breath as you were thrown to the ground, your knees scraping against the material of your jeans as you made impact.

“Be any fucking rougher, could you?” You hissed toward the guard over your shoulder, although you wiggled your fingers nervously behind your back.

He smirked at you, stifling a laugh as he carried his muscular frame toward the large double doors that you were forced through moments prior to being manhandled toward the ground.

“Enjoy your last few moments of life, honey.” He spit, his face falling expressionless afterward as he allowed the doors to slam shut behind himself, leaving you to your thoughts. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain that he was sporting a shit eating grin. If you could, you’d slap it off of his face.

You couldn’t see a thing in the room that you were in, and you began to grow anxious as the anticipation began to eat away at you, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your chest.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and held back a loud cry, your eyes watering as the realization finally settled upon you. You couldn’t keep up your tough girl exterior anymore, and you were going to die in this pitch black room at any moment.

What if this was part of the execution? What if the room was this dark purposefully? To add to the shock factor? That would be sure get someone shaken up, knowing they could be taken out by a gunshot, a quick slice of a sword, something hanging from the ceiling—

You paused, sniffing the tears away quickly. You knew your eyes would get puffy if you cried for any more than a few seconds, and you wanted to be remembered for being strong, not a wimp. News would spread quickly after your death, and you knew it would. It always did.

You evaluated your position for a moment. You were crying because you were afraid of death.

Seriously, you were afraid of something that was inevitable?

You choked back a laugh, a small smile cracking on your face before you burst out into a full on fit of giggles.

You wouldn’t be tortured to death, and you knew that for sure. That sort of punishment was only allowed for sexual crimes, acts of severe hatred, domestic abuse, or murder.

You’d be killed quickly, and you were crying because of that? You’d have lost all of your street credit if word got back to your little gang.

You looked like a lunatic. Knees pressed into the ground, hands behind your back, and laughing wildly as strands of your hair flew onto your face from the occasional draft that would flow through the room.

You knew it, too, but you picked up this tip from a certain black haired boy with a scar over his eye. He used to be involved with your group of criminals.

He told you to laugh in any situation where you were put under extreme pressure. You told him that he was crazy for giving you such shitty advice, but once you tried it after being taken into custody for the first crime, you realized that he may have given you some valuable information.

“You’ll either relax a bit and take some of the stress off, or they’ll think you’re crazy and let you go. Win win, right?”

You smiled as your laughter began to die out.

You’d always remember Yoongi, but he was dead to you now.

He was the only person in that group that you connected with. Still, you didn’t trust him, but you could rely on him to help you every now and then if you needed to.

He left without a word, something about wanting to better himself. He’d mentioned that a few times before he actually left, but you didn’t think he’d follow through.

That was the first time that you’d been physically hurt when someone important to you left.

You didn’t speak for a few weeks, laugh for months, or manage to take care of yourself properly for quite some time.

He was so important to you, and he knew it. He didn’t care though, because he still left. Why did you care then?

You didn’t.

You wouldn’t have to care about anything in a few more minutes.

You rolled your neck from side to side, shaking yourself free from any final thoughts as you waited patiently for your execution.

You considered begging for your life, but there was no reason to. You didn’t have anything to lose anymore.

You sat quietly for another minute or so.

Every muscle inside of your body tensed at the sound of leisurely paced footsteps striking against the ground. You felt like you were going to explode, but you managed to keep yourself together.

“Lift your head.”

You immediately obeyed the request, fearful that you’d be tortured immensely if you hadn’t.

You took a deep breath, stopping midway through it as you felt the cool metal of a sword press right under your chin.

The panic began to settle in again, and you began to fidget around like a fish out of water as the sword grazed the skin of your neck.

“Luckily for you, ________, stealing isn’t punishable by execution.” Your eyes ballooned out of your skull, and your mouth dried instantly as you fell into a coughing fit.

“You’d better hold your breath if you want to keep your life.” The person with the sword against your windpipe teased, and you shrieked in terror and disbelief as you confirmed that the voice belonged to who you thought was the rightful owner.

“YOONGI!” You screamed so loudly that your voice bounced off of the walls in the room and echoed back, possibly louder than the scream itself.

You weren’t sure if you screamed because he was the one threatening you with a weapon, or that there was still a very large sword pressed to your jugular even though he just said that stealing isn’t punishable by execution.

How would he know that, anyway?

The room began to lighten up at the same time the sword did against your neck. You were vaguely able to make out Yoongi’s figure in front of you.

You winced slightly as the lights brightened fully, and you came face to face with the sack of ass that left you to suffer years ago.

You checked your surroundings immediately afterward, confused to find that you were in the aisle of what you knew to be a temple.

Was this a fucking joke?

You weren’t sure of what to say. You had questions, obviously, but you also wanted to scream at him for being an asshat and playing such a dumb prank on you.

How are you supposed to start a conversation with someone that you hadn’t talked to in years, though?

Yoongi could read your confusion, a sadistic smile on his face as he walked toward you as if he had achieved something great.

He leaned down in front of you, a few pieces of his blonde hair brushing against your forehead. You thrashed around in the cuffs as he placed a light peck to your forehead, just as he did when the two of you were on good terms.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You threatened, and he hummed at your attitude.

“Still as gorgeous as ever, ________.” You bit down on the insides of your cheeks as he angled himself away from you.

He was as gorgeous as ever himself, the scar still perfectly etched into his skin as if it’d never heal, his face a bit more mature since the last time you saw him, and his hair a bright blonde instead of the shiny black it was a few years back.

You hated him.

“I hate you.” You voiced your thoughts, and Yoongi simply shrugged while taking a few steps backwards, maintaining his eye contact with you.

“You wouldn’t hate me if you knew what I’ve done for you.” He responded simply, his chocolate colored eyes squinted in distaste as he turned around on his heels, walking cooly to a chair that would’ve resembled a King’s throne.

It actually was a throne, but you didn’t understand why he was sitting on it. Min Yoongi was certainly no King. He was a rude and inconsiderate excuse of a friend.

Er, acquaintance, rather. You never really had friends, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, nose turned up in skepticism. Yoongi smiled a bit, licking his lips as he reminisced upon the events that happened a bit earlier today.

He saw you being dragged into the temple by one of his guards, struggling to keep your footsteps aligned due to the inability to control the pace of your walking.

He watched as the doors of the temple swung open and you were thrown to the ground harshly. He was hidden in the shadows as he observed the scene, immediately knowing that feisty voice of yours like the sword that he carried with him daily.

It was one of the things he loved most about you. After all, he was the one that practically made that part of you, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

It pained him to know that you were brought to him under terms of execution, but he assumed this would be the way you’d turn out if you continued to involve yourself with that group of people. That’s why he left you on your own.

Plus, the road to becoming King didn’t require the help of anyone else, and it certainly didn’t require yours. This was a task that he needed to complete on his own, and now that he had, his goal was simply to remain in power.

That’d be easy. People feared tyrants.

Yoongi was no tyrant, but he had tyrannical tendencies, one of them being participating in the execution of prisoners. Now, it was strictly prohibited for a King to execute a commoner, but he didn’t mind. Plus, he did sit back and watch most times as he was supposed to, so what was the harm?

He was the highest form of authority there was anyway, so who’d complain to him about what he could and couldn’t do?

He battled with himself to figure out a proper way to ease you out of this. He couldn’t outright call the execution off, and he knew that. No one would fear a King who spared the life of some measly village girl, and Yoongi craved the fear of his people.

Perhaps he could drag you elsewhere once the guard left. If he was to be questioned about it, he could mention something about needing to speak to you privately before your execution.

No, that’s dumb. Who’d believe that?

Maybe he could wait just until your execution was to take place, and halt it, saying that you were wrongly convicted of your crimes?

He couldn’t do that either. You’d been caught stealing multiple times before, and your criminal record was long enough to prove that you were the right person sentenced to death.

So, Yoongi lost about half of his dignity when he marched right up to the guard that dragged you inside, and asked him to let you be.

Of course, the guard agreed, but Yoongi’s ego had faltered momentarily.

He gained all of that dignity back, though, when he heard you scream his name while kneeling with your hands cuffed behind your back.

What a sight to see.

Yoongi glanced back down at you from his throne, a cocky smile on his face as he shifted his position in the gigantic chair, turning his body slightly sideways as he threw his legs over the side of it.

“Nothing, so I guess you’re right. I haven’t done a thing to help you.” He shrugged, bending over onto the ground to grab his scabbard. He slid the sword into it with practiced ease and dropped it to the ground.

The sound of the weapon scraping against the sides of the holder caused you to cringe, and you jumped as the sound of it hitting the floor bounced off of the walls a few times, just as your scream did earlier.

You gulped at the thought, wondering if he really would have killed you if he had gotten the chance.

“What’s your deal with them anyway?” Yoongi questioned after a few moments of thick silence. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes the moment he began to speak.

“I don’t have to answer anything you ask me, and it’s none of your business.” You responded, and Yoongi quirked an eyebrow.

“I would’ve assumed that you’d catch on a little earlier. You have always been a smart girl, but I suppose all of the thieving and lying caught up with you after a few years.” You said nothing, suddenly feeling overwhelming guilt.

“You do have to answer everything I ask you, actually. I can’t kill you for stealing, but I can kill you for treason.” You scoffed. There he was, playing the royalty card again.

“Treason? Yoongi, give it up. You can’t be executed for treason toward a commoner. Have you lost your mind?” He narrowed his eyes at you and stood up, taking the short walk toward you again.

“You are a commoner, ________. I am not.” You were tired of his dumb breakdowns.

“What are you supposed to be then?” You smirked, and Yoongi returned the smirk with a lick of his lips.

You watched with furrowed eyebrows as he shrugged the thick black jacket he was wearing off of his slim shoulders, and you inhaled a shaky breath as you vaguely made out the emblem of the kingdom on both of his shoulders in the dim lighting of the temple.

“Oh my fucking God.” Your voice cracked as you whispered, your bottom lip trembling in defeat as you realized your humongous fuck up.

You slowly lifted your head, immediately meeting Yoongi’s eye contact. He jutted his bottom lip out to mock you, before quickly twisting his lips into a sly smile.

“You know what to do.” You nodded, lowering your upper body to the ground slowly.

You weren’t low enough to the ground for his liking, so he grabbed his sword and retrieved it from its covering, and pressed the dull side of it against the back of your head to force you lower. Your forehead was touching the ground.

“Better.” He sighed, holding you there for a few seconds before placing the sword back at his side. When you no longer felt the pressure of it on your head, you deemed it okay to lift yourself up.

Your mind was pooling with questions.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He joked, placing the sword in front of him as he stacked both of his hands onto its handle.

“How?” You asked weakly, and he feigned confusion.

“How are you King? You can’t be King with that scar over your eye.” You wanted to find any plausible fault to the idea that he was King.

“Why can’t I?” He asked with a cock of his head. The question was meant to be unanswered, but you stupidly responded anyway.

“The scar symbolizes impuriti—“

“Then I must be pretty powerful, hm?” He laughed, swinging the sword off of the ground to rest on top of his shoulder. He gave you a pity glance as he took a few steps to land himself behind you.

“I’m not going to put you in prison.” He sighed heavily, as if the admittance of him allowing you freedom hurt his conscious dearly.

“Why not?” You asked eagerly, trying desperately not to show how excited you were as your fingers twitched behind your back.

“I’m not going to imprison you, but I need you to make me a promise.” He said, removing the sword from his shoulder as he slid it in the space between your back and the chain of the handcuffs.

You stood deathly still.

“Anything.” You responded instantaneously. You’d regret it later.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

“Don’t let me see your face around here again.” What?

Around the temple? In the village? Where were you supposed to go?

“I—“ He placed his foot against your lower back, digging his shoe into your skin through the fabric as he tugged the sword forcefully toward himself, successfully breaking the chain of the cuffs and sending it flying backward.

You moaned at the feeling, bringing your wrists in front of you as you twisted each of them around a few times to rid yourself of any stiff muscles.

“Get out.”

•••

“You called me back here?” You sighed, leaning your head against the opened doors as Yoongi hummed with a small nod.

“Yes, I did. Come in, and close the doors behind you.” You raised an eyebrow, although you shut the temple doors and walked down the aisle that would lead you to Yoongi’s throne.

He stood up from his royal seat, walking halfway down the aisle to meet you. You took the time to notice his appearance. He was dressed just like he was when you saw him a few years ago before he completely vanished. Baggy clothes, low rise sneakers, and a few chains dangling from his neck.

You held an unimpressed expression as you stood face to face with him, but seeing him dressed like this gave you a small bit of satisfaction. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him that though.

Unknown to you, Yoongi chose to dress like this to keep you comfortable with him. He needed you to be a bit vulnerable if you are going to hear him out, and he knew this would be one step closer to achieving that vulnerability.

Plus, he was taking you out today. Yes, to explain everything that’s happened during the past couple of years while he wasn’t around, but also for his personal satisfaction.

He missed you just as much as you missed him.

“We’re going to that little spot a few minutes away from here. The one we always used to—“

“I know, Yoongi. I really don’t want to bring up the past anymore.” You stopped him, holding your hand up as you cut him off in the middle of his sentence. You didn’t mean to come off so harshly, but the years of emotional trauma didn’t make that easy for you.

Yoongi nodded once, although he felt a little pang in his chest in you basically admitting that you didn’t want to go to the special place the two of you created a few years back, and you probably didn’t even want to be with him right now.

“Sure, okay.” He sighed, clearing his throat as he walked toward a hidden back entrance that he used at times to leave the temple.

You watched as he took his first few steps, before turning over his shoulder to stare at you with annoyance written all over his features.

“Are you going to follow me, or are you just going to stand there and look stupid?” You rolled your eyes and began to follow after him, Yoongi turning back toward the front once you caught up with him.

He continued to walk, and you desperately tried to fight the smile that was tugging at your lips as bits and pieces of the Yoongi you knew were starting to shine through.

•••

The walk to the secluded spot by that small river that you remember so fondly was uncomfortable and stuffy.

Neither of you said a word, simply letting the leaves crunching under the both of your shoes fill the silence.

The sun was beginning to set, and the rays cast a beautiful shadow over the river. It looked just as it did the last time you were here.

That day… that day was the happiest you’d been in years.

That was also the day Yoongi got his scar.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Yoongi asked, laughing loudly as he stumbled over a few branches while searching for you behind the trees and shrubs near the river.

“I’m never playing hide and seek with you again. You’re an asshole for this.” You chuckled, immediately clasping your hand over your mouth as you hoped desperately that he hadn’t heard.

But, it was Yoongi. Of course he’d heard.

“Your cute little laugh is going to get you in trouble.” You ducked lower behind the shrub in front of you, peering out over the edge to see if you could see his shadow approaching.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you couldn’t see him anymore, squinting and leaning forward a bit to see if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Yoongi snuck up behind you, cursing under his breath when you snapped your head in his direction.

You hadn’t fully processed that it was Yoongi when he finally came into view and attempted to scare you, so you pushed him backward roughly. This sent him tumbling over a rock, and his face smashed against the forest floor.

“Oh my God!” You screamed, running over to him, your black combat boots seeming to be too heavy at that moment.

He was breathing heavily and holding one side of his face, and when you rolled him onto his back, the sight of the blood creeping between his fingers was enough to make you pull him up to his feet, and you dragged him all the way back to the village within a handful of minutes.

You had ripped off a piece of your oversized shirt and wrapped it over his eyes sometime during this process.

The two of you were spotted by a group of people as you neared the village again, and they helped you pull Yoongi to the home of a medic who would sew his skin together.

He had the stitches for two months, and even after they removed, he still had the scar.

You felt terrible, but you never got the chance to apologize.

He left the day after his stitches were removed.

“________.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip.

“________!” Yoongi shouted, and you came to with a small jolt.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled from your lips effortlessly, and it felt so, so good after all these years.

You walked quickly to meet Yoongi as he sat near the edge of the river, the wind blowing lightly which made his hair a disheveled mess.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.” You repeated, clearly this time as you sat down next to him, keeping a few feet between the two of you because you weren’t sure where your emotions were at the moment, and you certainly weren’t sure what he was feeling.

There was an awkward silence.

“What?” He laughed, the confusion evident on his face.

“What are you talking about?” You scratched nervously at your arm as he scooted a bit closer to you.

A part of you wanted to condemn him, but a larger part of you wanted him to stay right next to you.

“I’m really sorry about the scar. You left before I could apologize, and it’s been making me feel so guilty for the past couple of years, but—“ Yoongi shook his head, taking your hand into his as he intertwined your fingers with his, just like he used to back then.

You let your hand flop loosely in his.

“Isn’t it a little obvious that I don’t mind it? If anything, I’m happy that you fucked my face up.” He joked, his gummy smile slowly fading as he looked from the river to your paling face.

“Why’d you leave?” You asked, the light mood falling. Yoongi took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He knew he couldn’t avoid this question, but he hoped that you’d at least wait a bit before bringing up this topic.

“I told you, I need to better myself.” You let go of his hand.

“Bullshit!” You exclaimed, Yoongi simply turning his head to look at you as your face began to heat in anger.

“It had something to do with me, and I know it does. Why lie now? Why bring me to this special spot to lie, Yoongi?” He took a small gulp, looking away from you and out toward the landscape. He couldn’t utter these next few words while staring at your face.

“I wouldn’t have become King if I was in love with a criminal.” He stated nonchalantly. You froze.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You stood up, and Yoongi stood up as well, just in case you were planning to run away and get yourself into trouble as you usually did when you couldn’t handle your emotions.

“I had to let you go if I wanted to change, ________. You’re not good for me, and I’m not good for you.” His voice began to thin out the longer he spoke, fighting back a sob.

“Are you trying to say that I’m a bad influence?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Are you seriously trying to say that I am not good for you , when you’re the person that I got into the most trouble with in that entire fucking group?” You shook your head as you spoke, refusing to believe that he was saying you weren’t good for him.

“Why don’t you tell me the real reason that you left, hm? I can handle the truth, and I deserve to know after waiting for so long. Believe me, you won’t have to worry about seeing me again after this.” Yoongi was seething, his hands clenched into fists by his sides as he tried to steady his breathing.

He wasn’t going to get angry.

He was going to explain himself to you calmly.

“Did you not just hear me fucking say that I’m in love with you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, as he began to take slow strides toward you.

You’d seemed to have forgotten that in the midst of your yelling at him.

“I taught you a handful of things back then, but I’m fairly sure that knowing when to shut up was one of them.” You looked over your shoulder as you took a step backward whenever he took one forward, but if you continued like this then you’d end up with your back against a tree.

This was not some cliche love story, and you weren’t the main character.

You stepped to the side to avoid bumping into the tree.

Yoongi took a side step as well, standing still for a few seconds before he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pressed you up against the tree by his arm.

“You were going to hinder me from my goal, ________. There’s no way in hell I’d be able to focus while having you by my side.” His grip on you loosened as he continued to speak.

“I thought if I was away from you that I’d forget about everything, but that made it worse. There wasn’t a single day that came where you wouldn’t pass my mind.” You pressed your head backwards against the tree in exasperation.

“Why couldn’t you take me with you?” You asked, sadness evident in your voice. Yoongi’s heart clenched as he read you like his favorite book.

“I wanted you to be there for the result, not the work that it took to get there. I’d come back for you when I was better off, but I didn’t have to. You came to me.” Yoongi leaned in closer toward you.

“Well, you didn’t come to me, per say. I brought you to me.” You scoffed.

“You did what?” Dealing with him was an emotional roller coaster, but you still wanted the first seat on the ride.

“We can save the details for later. I accept your apology, and I really want to fucking kiss you.” You opened your mouth to respond, but Yoongi leaned in for this kiss anyway.

He molded his soft lips against yours with ease. You awkwardly left your eyes open, but upon seeing him with his closed as the passion radiated in the way he kissed you, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to slip into his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, the kiss quickly shifting from pure and energetic love to uncontrollable and messy lust for one another.

Yoongi broke the kiss first, and you chased his lips as he pulled away. You whimpered in defeat as he used his grip on your waist to turn you around, your hands pressed against the bark of the tree.

He roughly tugged your jeans down your legs, not having the patience to unbutton them fully. You flinched as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the distance, and you looked over your shoulder at Yoongi with fear etched onto your features.

“We’re going to get fucking caught.” You laughed, although you were deathly afraid of being found with the King’s dick buried snuggly inside of your pulsing cunt.

“I’m a King, baby. I’m the boss. I don’t give a fuck about someone stumbling back here.” He spoke, while working quickly at the zipper of his jeans.

“Besides, I’ll be quick.” He moaned out in satisfaction as he finally freed his cock from its confines. He tugged your panties to the side with one of his fingers, slapping his length against your throbbing clit a handful of times before lining himself up with your inviting warmth.

“Kind of difficult—oh shit,” He paused in the middle of his sentence as he slid his cock into you, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of being so full after so, so long.

“Kind of difficult to wait for something that you’ve been wanting for a—for a while, especially when it’s right in front of you.” He huffed into your ear, gathering your hair up in one of his hands to force you to arch you back more.

“Fuck. You okay, baby girl? I know this is a tight fit, cause you’re squeezing the shit out of my dick.” Yoongi waited patiently for your okay, although that didn’t stop him from rocking his hips against you slowly to offer himself some sort of relief.

“‘m okay. Just fuck me, please.” You begged, and Yoongi hastily obliged. He kept his hand tangled between your locks, as he brought his free hand down to your hip.

He set a gut-destroying pace instantly, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass somehow louder than they’d be if the two of you were in a secluded room.

“You can consider this your punishment for giving me so much shit talk yesterday. Look at you now, huh? Can’t get a single fucking word out, can you?” You whined as he dug his fingernails into your hip, his thrusts so vigorous and powerful that you would scrape the skin of your thighs against the tree every now and then.

Your legs twitched as you neared your high, a noise sounding like somewhat of a feminine growl climbing its way out from the back of your throat as you held your breasts in your hands, flicking your nipples between your fingers to coax yourself closer to the edge.

“Good girl. Lose yourself on my cock.” Yoongi was near his climax as well, the way your pussy was sucking him in combined with his cock grazing the material of your panties every few thrusts enough to send him straight toward that euphoric feeling.

There was something so primal about him taking you up against a tree, where seemingly anyone could find the two of you. No strings attached (yet), just pure, sexual need.

“Cum with me. I want that.” Yoongi snarled into your ear, and you nodded eagerly as he slid his hand across your stomach and down toward your clit.

He only managed to rub a few quick circles against the sensitive nub before you began to thrash wildly underneath him.

“Stay still.” He warned you, and you tried desperately to obey him as hot bliss took over momentarily, and your muscles spasmed beneath Yoongi as he used your pussy to chase his high as well, pulling out to cum on your back.

He slid your pants back up, before turning you around to try and button them. You were shaking too much, though, and it was starting to frustrate him.

“________, stay st—SHIT!”

Yoongi yelled as he began to tumble backward, making sure to pull you with him this time.

Your intense shaking caused Yoongi to trip over himself and fall backward, causing the both of you to end up plummeting into the cold river water.

“Damnit!” You cursed, and Yoongi just laughed as he rubbed his eyes free of the water that managed to seep into them.

“You’re quite the klutz.” He commented, running his hand through his hair as he slyly noticed the way your shirt began to grow more and more sheer as it soaked in the water.

“You’re quite the asshole.” You playfully rolled your eyes, squealing when Yoongi snagged your shirt into his hands and pulled you into his hold once more.

“Accidents just seem to happen at this river, don’t they?” You asked, and Yoongi shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucked your head underneath his chin.

“Yeah, but they’re also the best memories.” You tilted your head up to look at Yoongi’s face, and his eyes were closed.

Why do you always miss the memo?

Just as you were about to close your eyes, Yoongi splashed your face with a bit of water from the river.

You gasped and pulled away from him, mustering up the most threatening glare you could give.

“Why would you do that when I’m already wet?” He smirked.

“Hell yeah you are.”

“YOONGI!”

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