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slytherinspired · 3 years

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This Is Farewell - A Remus Lupin Imagine

It’s me again. I’m on fire! Okay, so this one is kind of related to my first series Tell Me About. Although there are some details that are not coherent with the first direction I took with Tell Me About, it’s still inspired by it, if that makes sense? And it’s kind of a rewriting of Heal Together. .

HOWEVER, if you do not want to read the thing, here’s a spoiler: Around OOTP, Sirius has a thirteen year’s old daughter with his first love, and he had no clue about her existence, until a couple of days ago, and he’s angry with Remus, because-Moony-knew-about-her-but-never-spilled-the-beans.

Pairings : Remus Lupin x Reader/Sirius x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied mentions of smut, and fluff.

Masterlist

Sirius is standing in the back room at Grimmauld Place, fists clenched together. He doesn’t understand a word Remus is saying. It doesn’t make any sense.

‘Why don’t you want me to see her?’

Remus shakes his head.

‘You’re so insufferable, Sirius! Don’t you understand? You’re going to put us all in danger!’

‘There’s something else,’ replies violently Sirius. ‘You’re hiding something.’

‘What would I be hiding?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, you’ve held the fact I had a daughter with Y/N for the last fourteen years from me, so, I mean, what else could you possibly hide from me?’

‘Stop it! I said I was sorry!’

Sirius shakes his head.

‘There’s something else, I know there is.’

Remus slides a nervous hand into his hair, and it clicks in Sirius’ mind. He chuckles nervously, and slaps his glass of wine on the table.

‘Tell me the truth, Remus. Did you fuck her?’

‘What?’

‘You fucked her, didn’t you? When?’

‘Sirius, this isn’t – you know – ‘

‘Did you fuck her when I was rotting in Azkaban, yes or no? It is a simple question!’ he shouts.

Defeated, Remus paces in the kitchen, sighing out loud.

‘It is not a simple answer,’ he whispers back.

‘So, you did,’ laughs Sirius agitatedly.

‘I did not f – ‘

‘Oh,’ he screams, ‘don’t you dare playing with words now, Remus; you made love, you had sex, you fucked her! Same difference!’

‘Sirius, I – ‘

Sirius is out of himself now. He can’t believe what he hears. Then it gets to him.

‘How do I know her daughter’s mine, then? How do you know she’s not yours?’

Remus’ eyes widen.

‘It happened months after your daughter was born, I didn’t even know she existed, there’s no way – ‘

‘So, you admit it.’

Remus can’t deny it anymore.

‘Stop it,’ mutters Remus, shaking his head, stepping outside the kitchen.

‘What was it?’ Sirius screams out back, following him. ‘Was it revenge? You thought I was the one that betrayed James, so you decided – ‘

‘It was nothing like that!’

‘Admit it, you were always soft for her.’

Remus is on the verge of tears now.

‘She loved you, Sirius. It was always you.’

‘So, you accidentally slipped your dick into her, is that what happened?’

‘Stop it! It happened once, years ago, and it meant nothing.’

But did it?

‘I’m very sorry Mr Lupin, we’ve tried everything. No employers want to take the risk, you know. These are odd times.’

The little man in front of Remus looks like he’s losing his patience.

‘I really need the work, Mr – ‘

‘This is my final word. I’m sorry son, but your condition, it makes you... Unreliable. If we find some new job openings what would be more suiting for you.’

‘Thank you,’ mutters he, leaving the small green office.

He doesn’t even know why he said that. Why would he be thanking him? Thank you for fucking up my life? How is he going to pay for the room he rents at the hostel now? Either he spends the remaining money he has for a shelter over his head for one last night, either to eat something tonight.

He steps out of the office, fists clenched, his head buzzing with worry. He doesn’t have anything, his friends are gone, his parents are dead, and he can’t even provide for himself. But he’s not dangerous, he thinks, he’s just got this condition... Sure, he needs a couple more of sick days than the usual wizard, but when he works, he works hard, he’s on time, he’s resourceful. However, everybody is so careful nowadays, ever since that war, ever since…

He shakes his head, tries to avoid thinking about this time of his life. He’s got so much on his mind already. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t see the person walking in a fast pace in front of him and he slams into her violently. He looks down, surprised, and embarrassed, at the woman he just jostled. She’s surrounded by papers scattered around her, and he bends to pick them up.

‘I’m so sorry, I am so, so sorry,’ he says, panicked.

‘It’s okay, I wasn’t looking where I was going – ‘

She looks up to him and his heart jumps in his chest. The expression on her face is as shocked as his.

‘Remus?’ she asks with apprehension.

He didn’t think he would ever see her again. Ever since that horrible night. She had left the country, going back to live with her family, and never had replied to one of his many letters enquiring about her.

‘Y/N, what – ‘he’s too shocked to see her there, right in front of him. In London, nonetheless.

He looks down at the papers he’s holding for her, and it seems like he recognizes a name on one of the sheets; a petition for an appeal. But she quickly takes the papers back and places them into her black satchel. They both get back up and stay there silently, not knowing what to say to each other.

‘So, how – ‘

‘I’m sorry, I – ‘

They both look at each other awkwardly. Y/N opens her mouth.

‘How are you?’

Remus frowns. Really? Is she asking him how is he doing after all this time? He chuckles nervously.

‘I’ve been writing to you,’ he says, trying to remain calm.

‘I know, Remus – ‘

‘Two years.’

‘I know. There was a lot to deal with, you can’t understand.’

Now he’s pissed. How can she say that? She shakes her head nervously.

‘I mean, I needed time,’ she adds, looking away, embarrassed.

‘And you couldn’t reply at all telling me exactly that?’

‘Remus, I wanted to put it all behind me, and it meant leaving you behind too.’

He snorts. Of course, she had the means to do so, she had her family living miles away from London, and she had money.

‘Glad to know you cared.’

‘I cared. I still do.’

She presses her delicate hand on his arm, and he quickly stiffen at her touch. She glances down and withdraw her hand.

‘What are you doing here, Y/N? I mean in London. What are you doing in London?’

She shakes her head, and looks away.

‘Just family business. My father, he needed some files from his old department. He couldn’t come himself, so I volunteered.’

She never was a good liar. But he’s accepting her story because he doesn’t want to argue. He’s way too tired. He nods.

‘You had no intention to come and find me,’ he observes.

She sighs.

‘I wouldn’t have known where to look for you, Remus.’

She could have made some enquiries, he thinks. But she doesn’t care about him. Ever since that traitor was put into Azkaban, she abandoned her friends. She realizes how angry he is with her.

‘How can I make it up to you?’

Remus snorts.

‘It’s okay, Y/N. I really need to get going. It was nice to see you. I’m glad to know you’re doing fine.’

He starts to walk away, his fists even more clenched than minutes before. He would like to yell at her that she was cruel to leave him behind without giving him any news. They were friends.

‘Remus!’ he hears her say, and she’s running after him. She presses her hand on his arm and he stops moving.

He turns around to look at her. She hasn’t changed much. Perhaps she wears her hair a little bit shorter, perhaps she looks more tired than she used to. But at the same time, who doesn’t? She still has that confident energy. That pretty smile. That reassuring presence.

‘Can I buy you a coffee? A drink perhaps?’

She observes him attentively.

‘Dinner?’

She noticed he lost weight, he knows it. He never was really bulky, but now he’s kind of loose in his clothes. He wants to refuse, but he thinks about his hunger, about the money he doesn’t have. About his loneliness. She tries to smile reassuringly. She’s pitying him. She always has, and it pisses him off even more. He never was much more than that poor Remus with the horrible condition. He nods, and they both find themselves in a small Muggle pub not far from the Ministry. It’s getting dark outside, and he feels exhausted.

They order pints, and soon enough he’s glazing at the hamburger sitting in front of him, and the delicious chips besides the plate, and Y/N didn’t order anything to eat, and he feels bad about it, but he’s starving, and he takes his first bite and closes his eyes. This is the most delightful thing he had to eat lately. He feels already so much better. He looks up and he sees Y/N’s concerned expression. He swallows, embarrassed.

‘What were you doing at the Ministry, Remus?’

He looks down at his pint, and drinks it down in one go.

‘The usual,’ he replies, absentmindedly. ‘Begging for work, being told no. Same old.’

‘What, are they refusing you work?’

He nods.

‘Well, doesn’t look too good hiring werewolves nowadays, especially after…’ He stops mid-sentence.

He doesn’t want to go there, particularly not in front of her. She’s fiddling with her hair now, like she always used to do when she was nervous.

‘But surely,’ she replies, ‘there must be something you can do?’

‘What would I do, Y/N? I can’t force anyone to hire me. And I can’t even get a Muggle job, how would I explain to my employer that I’m going to miss certain days in the month because I need to rest after a full moon? It wouldn’t make any sense.’

‘You could…’ she’s hesitating. Is she really going to suggest he uses his magic on Muggles? After this war? As she read into his mind, she’s holding back. ‘I could put out a word to my father, you know he knows people here, he could – ‘ Remus shakes his head.

‘No, Y/N.’

She sighs, and gestures at the waitress in the back. They order two other pints, and when the fresh beverage finally sits in front of Remus, he feels relieved, the cold liquid warms his insides, and makes him feel light-headed. He stares at Y/N and her rosy cheeks.

‘Where do you live now?’ she asks him.

‘Here and there,’ he answers promptly.

She frowns.

‘Do you have a place?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Remus…’ she whispers, pressing her hand on his.

If the touch of another human being didn't make him feel so good, he would back off. How long has it been since someone touched him? Since someone looked at him like he was actually a person, and not some kind of nuisance?

‘It’s fine,’ he chuckles.

It’s not fine. It is far from being fine. But he looks already so much weak, he doesn’t want Y/N to think any less of him.

‘Where are you staying?’ he asks, switching subjects.

She sighs out loud, but smiles faintly.

‘At my sister’s. She’s away for the summer, she’s got an internship abroad, so I have the flat to myself.’

‘How is she?’ he enquires.

‘Good, she’s good. You know Matheus asked her the big question?’ she says with a wide smile.

‘Oh, really? I’m glad for them, they’re good together.’

Y/N nods.

‘Never thought my little sister would get married before I, but you know…’

She stops talking, lost in her own thoughts. Her smile fades away, and she takes a big sip of her pint.

‘Anyway,’ she sighs. ‘I never saw myself getting married.’

She smiles widely at him, and he looks down.

They order pints again, and soon enough, Remus’ feeling tipsy, and in a better mood, and he would like this night to last so he has company, and a roof over his head, and he wouldn’t have to care about where he is going to stay from now on. Y/N’s face is completely flustered, and her voice is reassuring, and she’s telling him what she does for work back in her country now, and it seems so boring, but she talks about it in a way that makes it sound so much more interesting. He could hear her speak for hours, but it’s past midnight.

‘I should go,’ she mumbles, looking for her coat on the stool next to her.

Remus’ smile faints subtly.

‘Walk with me?’ she asks.

They both leave the pub silently, and they start to walk together for a while.

‘It’s so hot tonight,’ mumbles Y/N, taking off her coat.

She slides her hand in her hair, and the comforting smell of her shampoo gets to Remus’ nostrils. She stops on the sidewalk and turns, locking eyes with him.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t write back, Remus,’ she says in a soft voice.

She looks sad.

‘That night, I -’ she’s hesitating. ‘ - I lost the person I loved most, and I thought that escaping my past would help, but I should have looked out for you.’

‘It’s okay, you did what you had to in order to cope,’ he replies.

Is he ready to forgive her absence and the lack of interest of the past two years just because she paid him dinner? Just because he feels light-headed now? She’s holding back something else, he thinks. This isn’t just about Sirius. He hisses just thinking about his name. He was supposed to be his friend, he was supposed to protect James, Lily and Harry. He fucked up everything by betraying them. He never was appreciative of what he had with Y/N. He was thinking about Hogwarts now, when he and Y/N used to study together for their exams. When they used to go to Honeydukes to indulge in chocolate while the boys were back at the Quidditch supplies store. She was a good friend to him, so why did she cut him off like that?

‘No,’ she says, biting her lip nervously. ‘I just repressed everything.’

She looks up to the building in front of them.

‘This is me,’ she says, smiling faintly.

He looks up. Of course, he thinks, her sister’s staying in a rich-looking building. In a sudden, Y/N’s eyes widen.

‘I have an idea.’

She looks excited now. Remus frowns.

‘Come with me!’ she shouts, grabbing his hand.

He finds himself inside the flat on the fourth floor, and it looks almost empty. It is way too big for just one person, and it’s so clean.

‘What do you think?’ Y/N asks, parading around the kitchen and the living room. ‘There’s the kitchen, and this is the dining room. Out back there’s a bedroom, and a small study, and you’ve got the bathroom on your right,’ she says, pointing at the door next to him.

‘It’s brilliant,’ he mumbles.

He realizes how they are worlds apart.

‘Great!’ she says, tossing a key in his direction.

‘What is this?’ he asks, confused.

‘You can stay here while my sister is away,’ Y/N says with a wide smile on her face. ‘I mean, this flat is empty for the whole summer, you could stay here, it would give you some time to get back on your feet.’

‘Y/N, I couldn’t possibly – ‘

‘Remus, I insist. I’m getting back home tomorrow, you won’t be disturbed. And she will be thrilled to know there is someone to keep an eye on the place. Please.’

He feels overwhelmed. Sure, he’s relieved, but he never liked being pitied. He feels like a failure who needs charity to survive.

‘Why would you do this for me, Y/N?’ he asks.

She raises her shoulders, stepping in front of him.

‘You’re my friend. I care about you.’

‘If you cared, you would have found a way to let me know you were okay.’

She sighs.

‘There are things I can’t talk about, Remus. And I truly hope someday I will be able to talk about them. But for now, you’ll have to accept that I am sorry about everything.’

‘You don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth…’ he replies, defeated.

‘I trust you, Remus! I always have trusted you.’

‘Is that why you were appealing his case?’ he replies harshly. ‘I saw the papers, I saw the petition, Y/N, you still think he’s innocent.’

‘You don’t understand!’

‘Oh, I understand quite right! You can’t accept he’s betrayed our friends, you can’t accept he’s not the perfect man you always thought he was! He had flaws too, Y/N!’

‘I know he had flaws! I’m in a good position to know he had many of them!’ she replies, angrily.

Perhaps he’s jealous, yes. The fact that Sirius Black is rotting in a cell back in Azkaban doesn’t change anything; he envies him still. How can she still be fighting for that man when she knows what he has done to them?

‘They denied the appeal, are you happy?’ she shouts, she’s crying now. ‘They refuted the petition for a fair trial, and it was my last attempt. I’m on my own, now, unless someone else petitions. I’m on my own.’

Remus shakes his head.

‘You never were on your own. But I can’t help you with that, you know I can’t.’

‘I know,’ she replies, wiping her tears away. ‘For Godric’s sake, I’m such a mess. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Look where it got me.’

She laughs nervously in an attempt to release the tension. There’s an unbearable silence now. Y/N takes a deep breath and steps towards him.

‘I wish I had fallen in love with you first, Remus.’

He frowns. What the hell is she talking about? She grabs his hand and stare into his eyes.

‘You were the right pick from the beginning, and I did feel something for you... But, what I felt for Sirius, it was just, magnetic, I can’t explain it. I do love you, I always did. And it is why I left. I know you would have done the right thing if I had stayed, and I didn’t want to impose this on you.’

‘Impose what?’ cries Remus. He’s so confused. ‘What right thing?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘For Merlin’s sake, Y/N…’

‘I wish I had fallen in love with you when the time was right, I wish I had…’

She slides her fingers on his arm and rests her head on his chest. He can’t help but press a gentle kiss on the top of her head while she’s sobbing in his arms. The world seems to stop. He slides his fingers into the length of her hair, they’re both feeling empty, and lonely, and they’re both lost souls in the need of something more, something that would help them cope with the dread they are constantly feeling. The Dark Lord has been defeated, the world got back to normal, but not for them. This war will never be over for them. It left them with scars and shattered hearts. She looks up and presses her gentle lips on his, and he can taste the salt of her tears on her mouth, and his own tears are blending into their embrace, and she’s now gripping his shirt, pulling him closer to her, he’s here, he’s right here, he’s not going anywhere, but she’s leaving tomorrow, and this is goodbye.

Y/N pulls up his shirt and she runs her fingers on the healed wounds that crosses his stomach, and presses kisses on them, softly, marking each one of them.

‘Y/N,’ he whispers, taking her hands, trying to stop her. ‘What are you doing?’

She shakes her head.

‘I don’t know,’ she replies, removing her shirt as well.

She loves Sirius, she always will love him, no matter the horrible things he’s done in the past, no matter if he lives or not, she’ll love him until she doesn’t exist anymore, and Remus can’t be doing that with her if her heart is someone’s else, but he wants to, he craves the comfort, and he desires her, and she wants him too.

‘Don’t say anything, please,’ she says as she steps towards him to unbuckle his pants, and he sighs, and he lets her do it, he doesn’t have the strength to refuse her and to push her away; nor he wants to do so.

But how could someone like Y/N wants to be intimate with someone like him? Perhaps with her eyes closed, she will pretend he’s someone else, perhaps she’s already thinking about Sirius, and Remus is only the bridge between the two of them.

‘Y/N, wait,’ he moans, as she presses her lips on his. ‘Look at me.’

She does so, and her eyes looks bright now, as the veil of sadness over them has lifted for a moment.

‘I’m not Sirius,’ he says.

‘I know,’ she acknowledges. ‘I don’t want you to be. I want you, Remus. Just you. Just for one night.’

He chuckles.

‘You said you were leaving tomorrow,’ he whispers.

She’s staring at him, and she’s on the verge of tears, but there’s a softness about her, a resilience. She’s at peace, so should he be.

‘You’re not ever coming back, are you?’

‘This is farewell, Remus.’

To be continued? Or noooot.

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shadedrose01 · 3 years

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Equilibrium

Spoilers for Sidekicks (aka issues #1-6 of the Young Avengers comics)!!

Read on ao3 here!

After coming back, everything feels... weird. Off kilter, as if someone had tipped a perfectly balanced scale and it was teetering back and forth, trying its best to find equilibrium again.

Wrong, like his atoms and molecules had been shaped back together in the wrong spots, in the wrong places, still making Billy but not quite right, not quite normal (or, maybe usual, nothing about Billy is normal).

He just feels weird, okay? Its not like human beings are supposed to fade out of existence and then reappear back into it, even if those humans are mostly superpowered and/or mutants.

And when he realizes that Iron Lad is gone, seemingly gone back to his own time to fulfill his unforgiving destiny (or not, because they still remember him? Even though they weren't supposed to?), and when the Avengers (when Captain America, Steven Rogers himself) tells them to never put on the suits again or else, Billy just feels worse. Even more wrong.

A team isn't supposed to break up like some boy band (even if they are one person down now), they aren't- they've been through so much together, and now it's all just... going to go away?

He sees Eli walk away, trailing off towards the subway, sees Kate watching them with sad, methodical eyes, like she's trying to figure something out, holds onto Cassies hand as he pulls her up into the hoverboard thing he made with his magic, refuses to look at Teddy, refuses to acknowledge that particular ache in his chest right now, and wonders... is this it? How can this be it?

"It won't be," Cassie huffs as she jumps back down to the ground in front of her house, pushing her hair out of her eyes to glance back up at the two boys. When her gaze meets Billy's, it softens slightly, still determined, still ready. "We'll figure it out, okay? Keep in touch!"

"We will," They both promise, Teddy sounding much more assured than Billy could gather in himself, before they're both flying away, back towards the upper west side, where they both live (a couple of blocks away from each other, they can walk to each others houses, already have a few times while figuring out their powers, when Teddy had scouted out his moms old self help books and they had read them, leaning against each other as they laughed, looking at each other for a little too long before looking away, with rosy cheeks and burning ear tips and-)

When they get to the building that houses Teddy's apartment, Billy lowers them both gently to the ground as the power hoverboard disappears, and then they're just standing there, shuffling, avoiding each others gaze, avoiding a goodbye, avoiding the inevitable-

"Billy-"

"I don't know what I'm going to do." Billy blurts, interrupting accidentally and wincing, glancing up at Teddy (at his messy blond hair falling in front of his baby blues eyes, his perfect cheekbones and jaw oh gosh) in an unspoken apology before looking back to the concrete below him, cracked almost like their team, playing with the ends of his red cape. "These times- this team was all I had, and I thought- I thought we would be friends forever, or at least for a while, and now-"

"We will be," Now its Teddy interrupting, voice calm and gentle like waves crashing against the beach, a hand easing its way onto Billy's arm like its meant to be there, reassuring and soft even as it sends a spark down Billy's back. "Even if we can't-" Teddy glances around, spots people walking past them, and lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning closer. "Even if we can't be superheros anymore, we'll still be friends. We'll always be friends, Billy. Even Captain America can't get rid of that."

Billy looks up again, at Teddy's twinkling gaze and upturned lips, and gives him a faint smile back, even as he longs to take the word "friend" out of Teddy's mouth and smash it into pieces. "And Iron Man? Jessica Jones, the Jewel herself?"

"They don't stand a chance." He promises easily, squeezing Billy's shoulder, and Billy can't help the faint laugh of relief that spills from his lips, before he bites his bottom one and gives him a look.

"I don't know what I'd do without the team." And then, cautiously, his heart beating out of his chest (Is he really going to do this?), as he steps a little closer, their noses almost brushing now. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Teddys eyes widen, his pupils growing as they flicker between Billy's, and then downwards, towards his lips (wait, is this actually happening, does he-), and then back up, a hand gently (gentle gentle Teddy is always gentle, he loves it about him) grabbing onto his hip as he murmurs shakily, "Please tell me I'm not reading this wrong."

Oh my god, this is happening. "You aren't." Billy breaths back, his hand clenching and unclenching into fists, before he decides screw it, and grabs onto the collar of Teddy's shirt that he shape-shifted into somehow. This is happening. "Am I?"

"No. Can I kiss you?"

"Please do."

Then, they are. And it isn't the sparks flying, tingling, butterflies in his stomach sensation that he thought it would be, that he read about in stories and comics and fanfiction, but its warm, its safe, it's real, and it feels so unbelievably right.

In Teddy's arms, slotted together like they were made for each other, everything shifts back into place.

#young avengers #billy kaplan #teddy altman #wicling #billy kaplan/teddy altman #just a small little drabble i wrote while rereading ya lmaoo

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chipper9906 · 4 years

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Stay, If Only For A Moment

***SEASON 15 SPOILERS***

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 5296

Status: Oneshot- Complete

Summary: "You know what I would appreciate, Dean?" Castiel interrupts his angry words, the question enough to get Dean to stutter to a stop. "I would appreciate if you didn't just assume you knew how I felt"

Based on that scene from Season 15 Episode 2, where Dean and Castiel have a small argument about Chucks influence in their lives.

"Don't."

Dean spat the command at him with such venom, such disgust, lips snarling as if he was struggling to keep back what he really wanted to say.

Castiel couldn't help it. He flinches ever so slightly, practically able to feel the anger rolling off of Dean in waves. He knew that they had a lot on their plate right now, not even mentioning what had happened before this whole mess.

Castiel knew full well that he had, as the Winchesters would say "fucked up". It hadn't been the first time he had kept something hidden from the brothers, and while they were two very different situations, it had been a long, hard journey of regaining their trust. Would it be the same again? It wasn't like they had the time for it, not when the world as they knew it was crumbling around them, the souls of the damned crawling out of Hell to wreak havoc among the living.

But what else was he supposed to do? Jack's death had been crushing in of its own rights, even when comforted by the fact that his human soul had granted him entry into heaven. Then, finding out that the Empty wanted him, refused to rest until he dragged Jack down into that dark, endless sleep? Surely Dean would understand that he couldn't have just let that happen? That he had to take the risk, of whatever happens to his own life, to ensure Jack's safety and well-being?

He didn't know, though. That's why he didn't tell him. The fear that, if Dean knew of what had become of Jack, or more, what he no longer was, that Dean couldn't risk it, couldn't risk the possibility of Jack losing control. So, he didn't tell Dean. Didn't tell them that he had made a deal, his own life for Jack's. Didn't tell them that while yes, Jack was back, his soul had been reduced to nothing. Didn't tell them the worrying signs he had begun to see.

He didn't tell them. And now, Mary was dead, by Jack's hands. Now, despite giving up his own life to bring Jack back, Chuck had taken him away with the snap of his fingers.

Yes. He had fucked up.

Which is why he was here now. This...thing between himself and Dean. This awful tension, a feeling of uncertainty between them, that one wrong word could set the other off, whether that be into a spew of hateful words, or in a flurry of fists, both undesirable, but the latter being one that might just push them both over the edge of no return.

So, he was here, trying to apologize. He wasn't entirely sure what it is that he had said, nothing more than an apology from what he had heard of himself, and yet to get such a visceral reaction from Dean, for something as simple as an attempt at apologising?

The force behind the word was as powerful as any punch would be. It wasn't just the clear fury packed into the word, it was the disappointment, the scolding tone you'd hear from a mother to their child, a voice that seems to say "How many times do we have to go down this road?"

"You're angry...?"

"Yes, I am angry. At everything. All of it."

"All of it?"

Part of him wondered if he was pushing Dean too far here. Dean had made it very, very clear he was angry. Yet, he needed to know. Needed to know what exactly it was that Dean was angry about. To know that Deans anger wasn't completely directed at him because, if Cas was being honest with himself, he wasn't too sure he could take the brunt of it.

"This mess. All the messes. It turns out we're just hamsters running in a wheel our whole lives, and what do we have to show for it, huh?" Dean lets it all pour from his mouth, all the frustration he's been feeling. "Tell me you don't feel conned. God's been lying to you Cas, forever. You bought into the biggest scam in history."

"You don't think I'm angry?" Castiel asked in disbelief "After what Chuck did, after what he took from me? He killed Jack. But that doesn't mean it was all a lie"

"Really?"

Castiel knew from the get-go that this conversation would be difficult. To turn around Dean's view on everything that was happening right now. But to hear the sharp bite of sarcasm in his voice was made no less painful.

"Chuck is all-knowing. He knew the truth, he... Just kept it to himself."

"Well, now his cover is blown. Everything that we've done, is for what? Nothing."

Nothing? Surely Dean couldn't think that. Surely Dean knew that he was fully aware of the situation they were in, but to say all they've done was for nothing?

"Even if we didn't know that all the challenges we faced were of Chucks imaginations, how would we describe it all? We'd call it - life. Because that's what precisely life is. It's an obstacle course, and maybe Chuck designed the obstacles, but we ran our own race. We made our own moves. And mostly? We did well with that."

"Did we?" Dean argued back, and Castiel’s face fell, hearing the overpowering tone of sarcasm and disbelief in Dean's voice once again. "I'll tell you what we do know- Nothing. Nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we've lost, everything that we are- Is because of Chuck. So, maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice. I can't."

'Nothing. Nothing about our lives is real' It echoed around Castiel’s head, accompanied by the rhythmic footsteps from Dean as he walked away from him, walked away from this conversation.

No.

No, He couldn't let Dean walk away from this. From them. This wasn't over yet, and he was tired of Dean running away whenever this thing between them came up, when he was too scared to face it and talk.

"Dean-"

Castiel wasn't looking in his direction, but something in his voice as he called out Dean's name must have reached Dean. The retreating footsteps come to a stop, and the immediate silence after that, unable to hear the shuffling of feet or clothes, tells Castiel that Dean isn't facing him either. Here they were stood, their backs facing one another.

"You asked 'What about all this is real?"

This wouldn't do. He had to see Dean. He needed to look at him in the face, look straight into his eyes. Dean sure as hell wasn't going to talk about how he felt, so what else could Castiel do but try and decipher how he felt from what he could?

Castiel spins around on the spot, expecting to be faced with the back of Dean Winchester. Instead, Dean had partly turned in the doorway to face him, and the guarded look on his face was all too familiar to Castiel.

"We are."

If you weren't looking close enough, it would seem like there was no change to Dean's expression. Castiel knew him well though, could notice the slightest twitch of a muscle just under his eye. What he didn't know, however, was what exactly that meant for him, what emotion that small twitch was trying to convey.

For a while, it's nothing but silence. Neither of them have moved all that much, Dean still stood in the doorway to the room, eyes boring deep into Castiel’s own, both unable to tear there gaze away, unsure where to go from here.

"See, that's the problem, isn't it Cas?" Dean breaks the silence, and Castiel cocks his head to the side slightly.

"Problem?"

Dean laughs weakly, rubbing a tired hand across his face and, when he drops it, he also drops his guard. Castiel can see the bone-deep exhaustion lining Dean's features, the vulnerability he rarely shows shining through his eyes, which now struggle to raise and meet his own.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about..." Dean mutters quietly, a hint of frustration edging his voice.

"No, Dean. I really don't."

"Twelve years, man," Dean whispers to him. "Twelve years I've known you. Twelve years since you walked into my life, and I had no fucking clue the impact it would have."

Twelve years... Had it really been that long? How was it possible that, in his millions of years of existence, that only twelve of them, a small fraction compared to the rest of his life, are the ones that seemed the most important to him?

"And, I... I-- I don't even know when it happened. Not like it came out of nowhere or snuck up on me or whatever. All of a sudden I just knew it was there. And you know what? I didn't do a damn thing about it. I avoided it, as best as I can. Kept it buried as far down as I could, because you know what? I thought that if I ignored it, it would be okay. Because there was no way in hell I could let myself have that, to realise that..."

"Have what?" Castiel asks, and this time it's his turn for the frustration to bleed through.

"To have..." Dean tries to speak, but the hitch in his throat cuts himself off, and he shakes his head at Castiel. "Nothin', Cas. It's nothing. Don't worry about it"

And here Dean was, trying to run away again. And how many times would Castiel accept the defeat, let Dean walk away and calm down, to then treat it like it never even happened the next time they spoke?

"No,” Castiel spoke without even meaning to, slipping out of his mouth without his consent. And yet, he is grateful, as it actually got Dean to stop, stumbling over his feet slightly at the agitated command that had come from Castiel. "I am not doing this again. I am not going to sit back and let you run away. I am sick of it. Sick of getting my hopes up every time, and then for you to take that away when it all becomes too much. How many times have I spilled my own heart to you, Dean? Told you exactly what was on my mind? For once, just once, I'd appreciate it if you returned the favour"

"I don't think you realise what you want," Dean whispered in retaliation. "I don't think you're going to hear what you want to hear."

"Maybe I won't. But it doesn't matter. We're never going to get over this, if you don't talk to me."

"You want me to talk to you?" Dean asked, with that damn tone of sarcasm back once more doing nothing but to rile Castiel up even more.

"Yes.”

"Are you sure about that?"

"Dammit Dean! For once would you-"

"You wanna hear about how I killed myself after you and mom were gone?"

Any words in Castiel’s mouth were ripped right out at that. His jaw stuttered in place, recoiling his head backwards slightly at Dean's confession.

"You... What?"

"It seemed like no matter what we did, God wasn't on our side," Dean said with a humourless chuckle. "You were so damn sure that Jack was going to be the future. Our saving grace, peace on Earth, all that shit, as if you weren't talking about the devil's son"

"Jack wasn't-"

"I know." Dean interrupts him, shaking his head at his attempt to defend Jack. "You knew how I felt about it. How uneasy I felt, all that we were risking, for a kid that could literally wipe out the entire planet? You were so sure. And it got you dead, Cas. I had to fucking watch Lucifer shove that blade through your heart. I've seen you die before--blown to bits, stabbed by that reaper, and still you came back. And you know for a God damn moment, when I watched you drop to the ground, I was expecting you to pop right back up. For some miracle to happen, and you would be fine. For some reason, not until I saw your fucking wing marks in the ground, I... I realised you weren't coming back."

"Dean..."

"All of a sudden we had a Nephilim to deal with, Mom had gone into that portal and you... You were gone. And you know what? I was done. I had enough. I wanted it to be over."

"But... If you killed yourself, then how-?"

"Billy," Dean answers matter-factually. "We were on a ghost hunt and, well, we needed to talk to the ghosts. They weren't talking to the living."

"So you killed yourself?"

"I told Sammy it would only be for a moment. God, Cas, I lied straight to his face. Told him to jam me with that adrenaline, and I'd be right as rain. Billy saw right fucking through me. She knew I wanted to die, and I asked her, man. Asked her not to bring me back."

"But she still did?"

"Apparently it wasn't my time," Dean mumbled. "She brought me back. I never told Sam what I asked of her. Just pretended like it all went how I expected it to. And then Jack, he..."

Dean trailed off, jaw tightening at his own mention of Jack's name.

"I couldn't even look at the damn kid for a while. Every time I looked at him, I saw mom getting yanked through that portal. I saw Crowley stab himself with that blade, I saw your fucking grace burn out through you as you died. Worst of all? I saw you."

"You already said-"

"Not like that. I refused to see it at first, wanted to hold onto that anger. Because if I didn't have someone to blame for your death, then it would just fall to me. I couldn't see how much the kid missed you. That Jack was grieving for you as much as we were. The father he never got to meet, who he so wanted to be like. Every damn day I had to look at this reminder of you, and every day it would remind me that you would never come back."

"It was Jack that brought me back, Dean. He woke me up, and I fought to get back to you, to return to you all. I came back."

"So what?!" Dean yells, and the comment stings Castiel. "You came back, and now? Now you're going to be taken away again! You just had to go and make that stupid fucking deal-"

"You cannot berate me for making a deal, when you did the exact same thing for your brother"

"Yeah, I did. But what did your deal get you, huh? You made that deal, and you didn't tell us. Jack came back different, and you didn't tell us. It got mom killed, and after all that, Jack's dead too"

White-hot fury began to fill Castiel, and he was sure that Dean could sense the static electric on the air just as he did, the grace inside him twisting and pulsing out of control in sync with his emotions.

"You say that like you yourself weren't stood there with that gun ready to kill him moments before," Castiel spat, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hands as they curl into fists at his side. "I had never thought... Never thought you would give up on him so quickly. I knew you never truly cared for him, but you knew how important he was to me. And yet, you were still ready to end his life, like he was nothing-"

"He was my kid too!" Dean roared, storming across the room to Castiel, shoving a finger into his chest as he yells. "Jack meant more to me than you can know. Yeah, we had our rough patches at the beginning, but we worked through it. Coz you know what? You were right. He's a good fucking kid. I was mourning you, and I took my anger out on him, and that was unfair. I get that now. But don't you ever, ever think that I was okay with killing him. I was doing what I thought had to be done"

"What had to be done? Are you saying we should have just killed you, when the mark consumed you, turned you into a demon? Should we have killed Sam, when he returned from the cage without his soul? "

"Those are a hell of a lot different, and you know that. Jack's a fucking Nephilim, Cas. A Nephilim without his soul, that was basically a walking, ticking nuclear bomb, able to wipe out the Earth without even meaning to. Chuck was even scared of him. God himself, feared Jack. Killing Jack would rip me apart, Cas. But would it leave me as guilty, if I left Jack to tear apart the world? What did it matter... I still couldn't do it. Because I do care about him. He's our son, and now... Now he's gone. And fuck, I don't even know when... When the empty is going to take you away too... "

"This is precisely why I didn't want to tell you," Castiel says, softening his voice after Dean's rant. "You were already burdened with so much, I didn't want you to have to worry."

"I'm going to worry no matter what, Cas. If we never found out, and one day you were just... Gone? I would drive myself crazy, trying to figure out what happened to you. Cas, I... I need you. More than I ever have before. I can't see us winning this without you, and... "

"And what?" Castiel inquires

"And... fuck, I'm scared, Cas."

"Scared of what, Dean?" Castiel insists gently, taking one step closer to Dean. He sees the familiar look of panic in Dean's eyes, the same eyes that flick down to the floor, head bowed ever so slightly as he tries to pull away from Castiel.

"Scared that... That I can no longer see you just as a 'friend' anymore..."

The static electric was back once more, though this time for completely different reasons. It was a feeling Cas hasn't felt in a while now, that alluring, budding, growing feeling of hope that settled in his chest at Dean's words, every fibre of his being screaming at him to inch even closer.

"That... That for a while now, I've wanted more."

It still wasn't enough. Things were never clear when it came to Dean, and it was all too easy for Castiel to be jumping to conclusions about what Dean is trying to say, even when the meaning seems clear.

"Even now, I... I don't think I should say it. Admit that, I..."

"Dean," Castiel calls out his name, and Dean closes his eyes at the clear begging sound of it. When he opens his eyes again, "Please. Tell me."

There it was again. That guarded expression on his face as Castiel prodded him for more, and for once Castiel is glad to see it. Because Dean wasn't running away. Maybe, just maybe this was Dean's way of preparing himself. To say what Castiel wanted needed to hear.

"I love you. I tried so hard to pretend it wasn't real, but... it's always...there. I'm always so goddamn aware of it, simmering away in the back of my head. I didn't truly let myself feel it until you were gone. To sit and feel the pain and finally say that yes, I loved you. I loved you, and I never got to tell you."

"I wish you had," Castiel spoke softly. "Dean, I... I never knew. Never thought that..."

Castiel wasn't sure what it was he had said, but Dean's entire demeanour suddenly changed. He raised a hand to press into Castiel’s chest, at first a gentle touch, but then he roughly shoves Castiel away from him, a displeased frown on his face as he attempts to distance himself from Cas.

"This is why I never said it," Dean hisses at him. "Because it would fuck it all up. I didn't want to have to handle the rejection, of ruining what we already have. This is why you shouldn't have fucking pushed me to talk, Cas"

Cas would probably chalk it up to the shock of Dean's sudden mood change as to why he let Dean push himself away so quickly, taking a moment to let his words sink in. At first, he feels confusion at Dean's words, a confusion which quickly turns to anger as he looks at Dean's retreating form, slinking away out of the room.

Cas chases him out into the hallway, grabbing hold of Dean's shoulder and spinning him around to face him. Dean's annoyed expression briefly turns to shock when Castiel pushes him back against a wall, though the agitated look is quick to return once he realises that Castiel is pinning him there.

"Cas, the fuck are you-"

"You know what I would appreciate, Dean?" Castiel interrupts his angry words, the question enough to get Dean to stutter to a stop. "I would appreciate if you didn't just assume you knew how I felt."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"How could you possibly not know that I love you too?"

This certainly works in getting Dean's jaw to snap shut, flinching in surprise so hard that Castiel could hear Dean's head colliding with the wall.

"You--You do?"

"I thought I made it fairly obvious."

"You, I mean... You never said anything.”

"I didn't think I had to," Castiel says with a frown "I garnered that you had figured it out yourself. I wasn't exactly subtle about it."

For the briefest of moments, Castiel can see a flash of hope on Dean's face. It's gone as quick as it had come, and he was expecting Dean to roll right back into his look of indifference, locking away his emotions from prying eyes.

He doesn't. But he doesn't look happy either. Instead, he appears even more pissed than before, and a frown deep enough to rival Cas own is etched into his face as he tugs at the arm keeping him pinned to the wall.

"I wish you hadn't told me that," Dean whispers harshly, struggling against Castiel’s hold, his words tearing a hole straight through Castiel’s heart. “Then I could have pretended it wasn't true, and leave this be."

"You..." Castiel mutters softly, and the momentary lax of his strength provides Dean with enough time to push himself out of Cas's grip, forcing Cas to stumble back slightly. "You're upset that I love you?"

"Don't say it," Dean snaps, still digging deep into the wound he had made in Cas' heart. "Why did you have to say it?"

"Why is it so bad for me to?" Castiel asks in return, and Dean is forced to close his eyes to escape the heartbreak on Castiel’s face, a pain he was causing.

"Because what if it's not real?"

"What?"

"C'mon, listen to us man," Dean throws his arms up in the air, but there's not much force behind it. "Don't you think we sound like the cheesiest romance side plot in some fucking show?"

"You think that Chuck is behind this?"

"Seems like his MO, don't it? Seems a hell of a lot to me like Chuck is setting up the biggest dramatic finale he can, and we're a part of it."

"I don't understand, why... Why would Chuck be interested in us? Us- me and you- specifically?"

"Because we're nothing more than an added bonus for his entertainment. What if its all been a fucking set up, Cas? How much shit has happened to send us into each other arms, again and again? Shit that's out of character for us, all to so perfectly align to where we are now?"

"Where we are now, is all due to decisions of our own making Dean."

"Is it? Coz to me, it seems like Chucks had a part to play in every moment we've known each other. You rescuing me from Hell on his orders. I mean, Jesus Cas, you were exactly like every other angel out there before we met! Then all of a sudden, you decide to do a complete one-eighty and rebel? That wasn't you, Cas-"

"You don't know-"

"Yeah, Cas. We do. All the times he's brought you back, pushed us back together, it's all to get us to this point. The big confession, the spilling of our hearts. And then finally, just as we get our shit together, he takes you away from me. I'm not risking that, Cas. Losing my best friend is going to hurt enough. If you become more than that, then... I don't think I can survive that, Cas. I'm not giving in to feelings that might not even be my own."

"Bullshit," Cas spits at him, and the use of the foul language is enough to take Dean by surprise, knocking out any thoughts of leaving. "You're that certain that the way you feel is not your own? That all of it, is of Chucks doing?"

"We don't know, Cas. We have no fucking idea how much he's been interfering with.

"Well, I refuse to believe that," Castiel argues. "God may have pushed us towards a certain goal, but every decision I made along the way, was mine and mine alone. I was the one who decided that humans were worth more than what my brothers and sisters saw. I was the one who made the call that you and your brother were doing the right thing, that I was joining the right cause. I have made a lot of decisions Dean. Some I'm not proud of. But all of them I did because I thought it was the right thing to do. Me."

"Chuck could-"

"This right now? What's happening right here? This isn't like that awful medical show you made me watch-"

"Doctor Sexy is a classic..."

Castiel chooses to ignore that

"And you know what? What if it is. What if this whole time, its been Chuck that's pushing us together?"

"What?" Dean blanches, unsure if he had heard Castiel right. "What if- Are you serious?"

"Did your parents love each other, Dean?"

"What has that got to do with anything, Cas?"

"Did they?" Castiel asks again.

"Of course they did! Dad damn near drove himself crazy trying to gank the son of a bitch that killed mom! Hell, mom made a deal in the first place to bring dad back! You know this!"

"Yes, I do know. Just as we both know that your parents were destined to be together. We already know that your parents were an assigned couple in heaven, brought together by a cupid. Tell me, does that make their love any less real?"

"I..." Dean trailed off, the argument he was forming catching in the back of his throat, quick to die off. "No, it didn't."

"Then why should it make ours any less real?"

For the first time this whole conversation, Dean had no answer. No retort, no argument to Cas' optimism on the shitty situation they were in. His brain had come to a standstill, refusing to make up any more arguments because Goddammit, if Cas' hope wasn't infectious, wanting nothing more than to give in to what Cas was implying.

"You once said that we were better together," Castiel continues. "I still believe that. I have to believe that. Chuck would want nothing more than to break us apart right now, make us weaker for him. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like giving that to him"

Castiel moves closer to him, only coming to a stop once he had entered Dean's personal space, and dammit, the bastard knew about personal space, so he knew full well he was close than he should be, yet he didn't seem to give a damn.

"We are going to do this, Dean. We are going to sort this out. We are going to shove all of those souls back into Hell. We are going to rid ourselves of God. We are going to get Jack back, and we are going to find a way to get me out of this deal. Because the only other alternative is giving up, and that is not us. That's not how Winchesters do things."

Dean gulps nervously at the determination in Castiel’s voice, all his effort going into pushing his head as far back from Castiel, because Cas was right there, lips so tantalisingly close, that all it would take is to tilt his head slightly with a small push, and everything he had been fighting against for years would dissolve right then and there.

"And I'm going to kiss you now," Castiel states like there's no other alternative, and it's enough for Dean's heart to jump into his throat. "Not because Chuck wants me to. Because I want to, because this is my decision. Understand?"

It feels like Castiel’s gaze is burning straight through Dean, peering right down into his soul, and Dean doesn't trust his voice to stay steady right now. Castiel is yet to move, staring at Dean patiently as the seconds tick by before finally, Dean gives a stiff nod of his head.

Castiel’s lips felt as chapped as they looked, and frankly, Dean couldn't give a damn. Not when he feels Castiel pushing him back towards the wall again, this time with Dean going of his own volition.

His senses feel like they're going to overload, trying to take in every little detail they can, all at the same time; the small, desperate whining sounds he can hear from the back of Castiel’s throat, the sharp, angular lines of Castiel’s body pushed against his own, the earthly, 'about to rain' smell that Cas always seemed to emit, though now it was almost overpowering, and yet, he couldn't get enough of it.

Castiel has a hand cupped against his jaw, his thumb lazily trailing down the stubble on his cheek. Such a small movement is enough to send a chill down Dean's spine, shuddering in Castiel’s hold.

Dean raises his own hand to rest against Castiel’s chest, though this time it's not to push him away. He simply lets his hand rest against the scratchy material of his dress shirt, feel the rhythmic thump of Castiel’s heart under his fingers. It gets him to smile against Castiel’s lips, because it was so like Cas. He didn't even need a heartbeat, didn't need to breathe, but he still did, and Dean was glad, glad he could feel the warmth under his hand, the reminder that Castiel was alive, here, with him.

When he finally managed to pull himself away from Cas' lips, it's to see Cas smiling at him in the way that's so very Cas. No flash of teeth, barely a curved movement of his lips. He doesn't need to, because it's all in the eyes. The happy gleam that shines through them, seemingly accentuating the sharp brightness of his blue eyes, well-worn laughter lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes.

Castiel had managed to fan the flames of determination that had been burned out when Jack was taken from them, and for the first time in a while, it seemed like maybe, just maybe, they would be able to put up one last fight.

"What are we waiting for?" Dean asks, enjoying that he didn't have to fight away the voice in his head that comments how damn adorable it is when Cas tilts his head like a confused puppy. "Let's go kick God's ass."

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #castiel/dean winchester #casdean

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jksangelic · 5 years

Text

more than friends | two (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: smut, dramatic baby angst, lots-o-fluff, roommate!jungkook,

↳ pairing: reader x jungkook

↳ warnings: very light sexual harassment from tae, a pinch of violence (chill out, jungkook), fingering, unprotected sex, stretch kink (is that the correct term lol), honestly it’s really romantic sexy times but… jungkook is still a cocky bastard. i probably threw a daddy kink back in there at some point.

↳ summary: a couple weeks since “the incident”, you and jungkook attend hoseok’s opening night to his new club, a very infamous face appearing amongst the crowd and causing some issues along the way.

↳ note: i still cannot believe how much love “more than friends” received, and per several requests (that are so greatly appreciated), i decided to add a second part. a celebration for 4k notes on part one, if you will! thank you so much for your support and i’m so incredibly excited to write more for you all!

(yes, this is the second time i’ve posted this because my tumblr was being wack. sorry if you’ve already seen this.)

↳ words: 4,954

↳ series: one | two | ?

if you prefer to read this on ao3, click here.

The rough of Jungkook’s hand against your tapping leg was always comforting, he thinks. Mapping out every curve of muscle and fat was a transfixing action for him; therapeutic, if he must say. He knew that the situation called for his care, your leg insisting to bob at an incredible pace and hands running through your hair so often that despite your necessity to wash it every damn day, he was positive your roots suffered from greasiness. For once, his touch didn’t simmer your running thoughts. Not tonight, it wouldn’t.

“Hey, baby, why don’t we just tell Hobi that we’ll come some other night? I just… I don’t know if I feel like dealing with all of that yet,” you try, holding his prying hand with both of your own.

Jungkook shakes his head, either that or the vehement shaking of his Jeep throttles it from side-to-side and hell you dreamed of the day he would trade it in. “Not a chance, you’ve been dying to go to this since Hoseok-hyung mentioned it over two weeks ago. Don’t let that bastard stop you from doing something you want to do,” his face sneers once again at the thought of Taehyung, “I’ll be there, anyway. He won’t get near you. Not if I can help it.”

You try to allow his words to settle in while your stomach does anything but, resorting to picking at the fake tattoos trailing up your right arm, one arrow-stricken heart with the thick lettering of “mom” in the middle looking more like a mangled scab. “Don’t pick at those,” Kook scolds, “I spent a whole dollar at the Dollar Store for them.”

When you arrive at the long awaited Soul, the parking lot is filled with Hoseok’s many guests. It was a very big night for him, opening his own nightclub in the heart of downtown as he always dreamed. You wouldn’t miss his special day for the world, yet, the prospect of seeing Taehyung (damn Hoseok and his socially-adept personality) made you reconsider such a feeling.

After a few minutes of circling the crowded lot, Jungkook comes around to open your door for you, pink crop top making you giggle for the first time in hours. He cocks his head in annoyance, “Is my suffering funny? How do you wear these? I feel so exposed.”

You pick at your nails, purring a, “It’s how I attract all my lovers.” He rolls his eyes in response, only willing to deal with your overflowing conviction when you’re a feast to the eyes.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go in, yeah? You look too hot to not stop by just for a bit. If you feel too shitty, then I’ll take you back home. Deal?” He kisses you tenderly, receiving your yes in muffled lipstick stains to his mouth and hiking your leg to stretch around his waist playfully.

Fake retching sounds in the distance, Jimin popping into your peripheral with a celebratory bottle and a face of utter displeasure, “Are you guys going to come into Hobi’s new place or are you just going to ditch to fuck in his parking lot?” Jungkook growls into your hair, releasing your leg from its warm spot on his hip and moving enough for you to hop out.

“Probably the latter if you weren’t such a cockblocker,” your hostile boyfriend answers beneath his breath.

They continue to bicker even upon entry to Soul, your ears completely tuning out at what a beauty Hoseok really set up. It was a little more upscale than your average nightclub, traditionally dark but vaguely lit by the surreal amount of neon signs adorning the walls; shapes and sentences combining together to create a uniquely charismatic atmosphere. The furniture was ultimately minimalistic to avoid tackiness, the bar large and mostly similar to the rest. It was predominantly one of the best looking clubs you’ve ever stepped foot in, props to Hobi. It distracted from the crowd that awaits below, sudden anxiety gobbling you back up at the sight of so many bodies and knowing one of them was one you’d like to forego ever seeing again.

“Oh my—I get it! You’re each other, right? That’s fucking fantastic,” a voice blares, breaking your trance yet again.

“Hobi! I’m so glad you understand it,” you say with a smile, throwing fake-tattooed arms around his neck in embrace. He takes another good once-over when you release him, sunny cheeks practically glowing in the dark.

“Heavens, you look better as Jungkook than Jungkook does,” Hobi teases, giving Kook a rundown of his own and chuckling at the sight of him in anything other than the color black. “How many handies did she offer to get you in a crop-top? Are those… Are those mom jeans you’re wearing?”

Jungkook grumpily swats at the older’s cheeky hands when it smooths over his toned and very much exposed stomach, “She didn’t offer me any, goddammit. Fuck, why didn’t I think of that?” You roll your eyes in only the smallest amount of amusement.

“What about you, Jung? Now that you own a club, you dress as a pimp?” Jungkook backfires, grabbing a fistful of his white suit and examining it.

“No, you ass. I’m the Korean Michael Jackson,” he explains, showcasing a few haughty steps to the blaring music. How did you even become friends with… this?

“Okay, well, we’re going to go indulge in your new digs. We’ll catch up with you back in a bit,” you giggle. He waves the both of you off, immediately busying himself with the next group that comes in. Jungkook whines to stop by the bar and pile up, though you don’t reject his request in the slightest. Rather, you drink that shit up.

In the midst of spilling drinks and the haze of foul-smelling smoke do you find yourself in the crowd, sprinkling grins here and loud hello’s there, inevitably shrinking into Jungkook’s figure with the more people you mindfully tally up. He doesn’t mind, albeit tugging on your shirt to finally settle in one place of the floor to thoroughly soak up your presence. “We’ll get the rest later. Just warm up and dance already, brat.” You hum and trail your hands under and up his shirt, relishing in the rare occasion (and soon to be discontinued) of your boyfriend in a crop top. He returns the favor, gripping your ass in it’s pitch black latex skirt.

“You should dress like me more often. I love seeing you in black, it’s sexy.”

“I wish you wore pink more. It suits you.”

“Should we just switch the roles entirely?” he jesters, poking at your tattoos like a marveling child.

You smirk, “Should I buy a strap?”

His face drains of all color in an instant, nostrils flaring, “Ok, I’ve had enough of this joke.” Pfft, such fragile masculinity.

And like that, your worries drain as if they never existed. Jungkook made more of an effort than ever before as your friend to make you happy. Of course, altering the boundaries of your relationship from platonic to romantic was the case, but Jungkook was more fragile, now. More caring. More protective. Taehyung would never want to change for you. That realization would never stray from your mind.

The costumes around you sway vividly, wings of fairies wavering, tails of various animals poking one another, characters of an arrangement of current shows testing your knowledge of pop culture. You’re more than enthralled to be here in the warmth of your friends.

“Having fun, babydoll?” Jungkook husks out from behind, fingers digging into your skirt as you haphazardly grind against him. “You’re giving me… issues back here.” You melt in his hold, twirling about so you can face the man of your dreams and kiss him as such.

“You’re so good to me, daddy. Thanks for taking me out tonight,” you purr. His jaw slacks at his name, raking lust-brimmed eyes over your spilling breasts in their matching midnight teddy, innocently tucked away into your skirt as if he didn’t know what it looked like alone. Spoiler: he’s seen it a countless amount of times.

“I know it’s for the sake of great costume, but shit, Y/N. Wearing lingerie in public? I don’t remember verbally stating that I condone this,” he grunts, biting at your neck shamelessly.

“I’m trying to be sweet and you’re focused on my tits,” you harrumph, pulling away from the horndog waste of your boyfriend before he leaves a giant hickey on your collar. “Go make yourself useful and get me another drink! And tuck your boner!” He rolls his eyes but complies, even squatting awkwardly to shift his growing hard-on in those “mom jeans”. You chuckle as you watch him go, undulating mindlessly and overflowing with adoration.

And possibly piss. Most definitely urine.

You slither your way off the dance floor, scoping out all possible restroom areas and settling on the hallway with the humongous neon light that spelled out “toilet” as would for the entrance to heaven. Thanks, Hoseok.

The music zones out with every step down the hall, drunken tittering echoing when it seems to stretch farther and farther like a scene off The Haunted Mansion. A man stumbles out from the restrooms, desperately strangling his belt into submission but failing quite miserably. Laughs bubble, yet again, out from your throat at the sight.

“Is something funny—Oh,” the man smirks, deep voice dragging ice up your back, “Hey, kitten.”

Your face squishes into repugnance, Taehyung roaring at your reaction and swerving closer to your frozen body, “Didn’t miss me so much, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Tae. Leave me alone.”

“’Tae’? Oh, honey, you can’t avoid me if you tried. Shame, I wish you would’ve at least called me after that whole… ordeal.” Not realizing you cower away from his figure until your shoulders hit the wall, you flinch. In this proximity, you realize Taehyung’s eyes are bloodshot, gorgeously half-lidded and even more entrancing than the last time you saw him. His makeup makes it worse, dark eyeshadow smudged out and fake blood dripping from his full lips; a vampire suited him. Cold, indifferent, ready to suck you up without remorse.

“Taehyung, buzz off. You’re high.”

Trying to attempt your escape, he traps you between his arms, head dipping low to closely probe your own costume and grunting, “You knew I’d be here, huh? You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want to. So what’s it?” he slurs, “Need some company?”

You push uselessly at his chest, head unfortunately spinning and breathing imitating possibly anything but distress, “Tae, I c-can’t. Let me go, I need to go. I’m sorry,” you pant. His thumb swipes across your cheek, sweet as poison.

“Sorry? Sorry for what, kitten,” his breath sears next to your ear, “Sorry that I caught you fucking your stupid roommate?” His snickers vibrate, guilt resurfacing when it shouldn’t and you should’ve have never come out tonight goddammit.

“J-Jungkook,” you voice, cracking with need and too quiet for even Taehyung to hear. You fist at his shirt, desperately but weakly clawing your way out and wincing away from Kim’s nipping mouth.

All Jungkook sees is Taehyung pressed against you, your whimpers quiet as if it’s trying to keep a secret. All Jungkook hears is that awful, cocky voice growling into your neck with unadulterated lust. All Jungkook feels is red.

Although your eyes blur with frustrated tears, you render that Taehyung must have finally heeded your request when your chest is free of his weight. That is, until you see him on the ground, your enraged boyfriend pelting bloody knuckles into Taehyung’s once-flawless face.

“Jungkook!” you scream, falling onto your knees and tugging on his shirt before he kills him, for all you know. “Jungkook, stop!”

He does, faltering away from your grasps and standing abruptly. Taehyung groans, costume blood indistinguishable from his own, real fluid. Jungkook stares at you with pain etched onto his angular features, rage replacing it soon after.

“You. You weren’t afraid to see him because of what happened. You were afraid to see him because you still love this douchebag, don’t you?” he spits nonsensically. You reach for him, head shaking and stumbling over words of reassurance, but he denies it all.

“What the hell is going on here?” Hoseok yells, rounding the corner and eyes blowing wide at the sight before him. Jungkook scoffs, shoulder-checking his hyung on his way out. Tripping over yourself, you run after him, tears stinging hot down your face and heart racing.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, listen! That’s not what—”

He comes to a complete halt; how you don’t crash right into him, you have no clue. The tired expression he wears when he turns breaks your heart, “I love you, Y/N. I love you. And there’s no room for that shithead over there. I’m the one who cares about you.”

“Jesus, Jungkook! If you would just let me—" you try again, but Jungkook is off once again. Griping at your idiot of a boyfriend’s stubbornness, you watch him leave. You could scream if you weren’t in the middle of public, rage and sorrow and guilt practically flowing out of your pores. Instead, you round yourself back to the hallway to find a wincing Taehyung propped against the wall and a worried Hoseok tending to him.

“Jungkook thought we were canoodling, I guess. So he beat the shit out of him,” you explain, Hoseok jumping at your reappearance. Squatting down next to him, you sigh, “He left.”

“The guy really packs a punch,” Tae admits, wiping for the umpteenth time at his bloody nose, “I think he knocked the high out of me.” You scowl.

“Do you need a ride, Y/N?” Hoseok offers. You felt bad; this was his own event and you ruined it, but you could really use his help so you nod a little reluctantly.

“I’m sorry. Do you mind if you give us a minute?” you ask, nodding to Taehyung. Hobi complies, standing and waiting at the end of the hallway until you need him back.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry things ended the way they did. I should’ve explained myself but I was still kinda confused about… whatever.

“But me and Jungkook are together now. So. If you can kindly fuck off or something.”

“Jesus, Y/N, I know I can be a dick but you could have at least tried to mention that.”

“You make everything difficult, Taehyung. From the day we met,” you accuse, “You were the worst fuck I’ve ever come across.”

He chuckles, looking into your eyes for the first time tonight and looking genuinely apologetic, “You’re not a bad gal, Y/N. I think we could’ve been something good.”

What the hell?

He didn’t get to do this; claim you one second, reject you the next, propose you could’ve been good another. Perhaps you dreamt of this day a long time ago, secretly wishing and hoping and longing for Taehyung to want you the same way that you wanted him.

But all you can think of now is Jungkook. His buck teeth and his horrible omelets and how he recently started sleeping in your bed with you instead of his own. Maybe, for a while, you just accepted the affection Taehyung never thought to give you, as horrible as it sounds. But now, with Taehyung subtly offering, you know for sure it’s just Jungkook.

You love Jungkook.

“Relationships aren’t for you, Tae.”

His smile turns mischievous, “I suppose not.”

Hoseok presses that you aren’t a nuisance all the way home, comfortingly rubbing at your back as you chew on your nails. How unfortunate, coming to his party a wreck and leaving it just the same.

Your goodbyes are short and apologetic; he practically has to nudge you with the hood of his car to enter your apartment complex.

“Hello?” you question softly, shutting the front door with a quiet click and padding through the dim room. For the most part, everything is shut off and you even wonder if Jungkook came home at all. Slinking into the hallway, a quick glimpse to your room reveals he isn’t asleep on your mattress like he normally is, your heart cracking slightly at the revelation. His own door is shut, and you suppose he would sleep in his own room after tonight.

You, on the other hand, don’t even feel a wink of drowsiness.

Jungkook hears the shower shutter through his closed door, using all of the force collected in his body not to step in with you and properly talk about the events that occurred. He doesn’t, because he’s stubborn like that. He doesn’t, because he knows your showers are normally for your personal times of mulling over complications.

And even though he’s furious, his chest warms of admiration.

You wash your tensions down the drain, steam circulating the small bathroom and no doubt fogging the mirror. The valve is verging on the edge of it’s setting, scalding water undoubtedly leaving your skin a punishing red. It’s how you were able to think clearly; your aches and worries literally seared off and paving way for new, clean thoughts.

You knew he would forgive you the minute things are explained, laid out in the open. As quick as a bag of chips can be inhaled, the man would cradle you in his arms again with a lilt of stubborn understanding. But that didn’t calm you as it should. Perhaps, it was yourself that was having a hard time with confrontation. Maybe, at the time, you were still hoping that Taehyung would come for you and never let you go, a longing for a miracle that wasn’t even really that much of a miracle. The lack of, instead, was your epiphany.

And Jungkook was so good. Sure, an asshole, but he was all the things you hoped for in Tae. Even more, he loves you.

Though you realize your feelings for Taehyung have dissipated and rather blossom for Jungkook, the lingering guilt of being able to see Kook, touch him, kiss him, sleep with him is sickening. How could you be so cruel?

You step out of your shower unresolved, and a little queasy. Were you always having existential crisis’ in the bathroom?

Unconsciously, you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s room once again, internally debating what the best course of action would be. Just by turning the knob and inching the door ajar, the scream of it’s hinges makes you want to rip it off completely, already regretting the intrusion. Welp, it’s too late.

Jungkook lays atop his comforter like always, a few joking arguments stemming from the fact that he really doesn’t need blankets when the guy’s a walking heater. “It’s for the aesthetics of a nice room,” he had said, “What kind of mongrel would I be for having a naked bed?”

From your standing, he looks asleep, bare chest rising and falling; up, down, pause, up, down. His thick brows stitched together like he fell asleep angry and you roll your eyes at the thought.

He doesn’t even falter when your weight shifts the bed, sitting on the open spot next to his torso and ghosting your fragile hands over his locks, waiting for him to wake and chew you out. When he continues to purr in his slumber, you pet him gently, hair dark and soft across your fingers.

“I… I’m glad we went tonight,” you whisper, barely even producing enough noise for yourself to catch, “And I’m glad I ran into Taehyung. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have noticed how good you are for me. I’m so thankful to him.”

Breathing.

“And I feel horrible for making you doubt yourself, even if it was unintentional,” your throat heats, pain running down as your voice wobbles, “I wish—I wish I was as good for you as you are for me.

“J-Jungkook,” your tears run freely down your face now, “I love you. I love you, so much. There’s no me without you. I don’t want anyone else—“

You stop there, afraid your pathetic sobs will wake him. Leaning down, you gently bury your face in his hair, kissing him softly and letting the smell of his shampoo tickle your nose. Your love engulfs, fills your bones, makes you so dizzy that it hurts.

A few seconds pass before you remove yourself from him, easing your body off his mattress with precision.

Your world flips, throat so heavy you don’t even try to yelp as you flop onto the other side of his body, his strong arms wrapped around your ribs and holding you tightly against him as your legs drape over his. “Don’t cry, love,” he husks, “God, I’ve been wanting for you to say that for so, so long.”

“Jungkook,” you weep in panic, “Jungkook, nothing happened, I didn’t do anything—”

“I know. I’m sorry, I got a little presumptuous.” He brings his lips to your eyes, kissing the tears away and sprinkling a few more on your cheeks.

Your towel slipped from his attack, breasts peaking under the cloth and inviting Jungkook to travel lower to give them attention as well. His voice is deep enough to rattle you up, cracking slightly when he says, “I just want you to be mine.”

You lace your fingers through his mop once again, massaging his scalp and letting the moment sink in. This is what was needed—a reconciliation of sorts. Through both of your stubborn minds and limbs did neither of you properly close your old path to open a new one for him, did neither of you talk. It was new, exciting, uncharted territory. You had jumped in without really understanding the rules and concepts, but it didn’t matter now. Not when everything now fell into place like a puzzle that was just ignorantly started from the inside out, rather than setting the foundation of each side and corner.

“I am yours. Every little bit of me is yours now. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. You did well,” you praise, smoothing his bangs up and away from his face. His eyes are glossy, enough moisture to collect in his long eyelashes but not enough to stain his cheeks like yours do.

He looks up, finally, slowly closing the distance to rake over your features before he kisses you oh-so softly. It’s the most fragile he’s ever been with you, the most genuine. His lips mold to your movements, his tongue only follows when yours pokes out, he takes as little as possible.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “you can.”

“Don’t want to ruin anything.”

“It’s not. This is different.”

He flips you to your side, holding you close and enclosing you in the safety of his body. When he surrenders, he dips his fingers between your legs and uses the shower’s dew to stretch you across two of his digits, moving carefully but diligently. The feeling of your bare back to his large chest, for some reason, is more intimate than you normally find his common proximity and it makes you sigh.

The jabbing of his own problem against your ass prompts you to reach behind and grasp him firmly, warming him up without sneaking into his briefs just yet.

“You always feel so good,” he pants, twitching in your grip and propping himself on his elbow so he can nibble on your ear, “here, too.” The arching of his fingers in your heat makes you cry out.

“Are your hands okay?” you question the same second you remember his injuries. He chuckles.

“My knuckles hurt a bit, but I patched them up for the most part. It’s not going to keep me from fingering you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” his voice soothes, a third finger added for reassurance. The stretch is sublime, foregoing your own job and grinding against him as an incompetent apology. Jungkook doesn’t mind it, moving his hips in little circles to stimulate himself even further; rather, he likes it quite a bit.

“Ready?”

You don’t answer, arching your spine instead so Jungkook’s head can easily find your entrance, pushing his way inside without even removing two fingers that remain buried deep in your cunt. He knows you like a little pain with your pleasure, pain that doesn’t remain when the strain subsides and the languid thrusts send shivers up your skin.

“Oh god, Jungkook, that feels—you feel so amazing,” you groan, feeling the stickiness of your juices every time his hips meet the curve of your ass, deep squelches getting louder the longer he repeats the movement, “s-slow, please, keep it slow, baby.”

He lazily rolls into you, each shove perfectly aiming for the bundle of nerves that makes your eyes heavy; using all the strength in your body not to shut your thighs when Kook’s hand, littered with old and new tattoos, stays in its comfortable spot. His digits curl every so often, as if to remind you they’re still there, making you purr in his embrace even more.

The heat of his body emanates, warming you up despite how cold it is outside and in the apartment. As he protects you from the cold so will he from anything else, and it makes your heart stutter.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasps as lovingly as he can into your ear, nothing but pure desire to hear the three words drip from your lips.

“I love you.” You mean it.

“More,” he begs; he doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook, I love you with every fiber of my being,” you hiccup, pawing at his intrusive hand. He removes it hastily, replacing it’s warmth by sticking his fingers to your tongue to lap up.

“I never want to stop hearing you say that,” he admits, pace quickening so that your breasts bounce with each focused push into your walls. You could cum like this, foggy tears blurring his bedroom with how close your orgasm is. It’s cut short when he takes himself out and sits up, pulling you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

His hands find support on his headboard while you wrap weak legs around him, one on his thigh and the other on his back as he rocks into you once more.

The tattoos on his chest move whenever he flexes, a sort of mirage entrancing you as he works your pussy to reach the same amount of ecstasy before. It’s the first time you can really look at his face, as well, all images of loving and soft features a complete and utter miscalculation. Even though he makes love to you like no other, he has a face of control in all of its entirety. One of his brows is quirked, his tongue poking his upper lip in focus, his abs constricting then relaxing. He knows only he can make you feel like this, hips cocky as they slap against your skin in unbridled dominance.

His normally doe-eyes glimmer with devilment, “Who can fuck you as good as I do?”

You sigh, “I thought we were being cute.”

“I’m not fucking cute. I’m fucking you,” he growls, ramming into your poor pussy so firmly that the headboard thumpthumpthumps against the wall, no doubt damaging the paint. “Is there anyone better than me?”

“You know there isn’t,” you retort with a squeak.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You moan flagrantly on a particular jab that makes your insides coil and your entire body shuffle up his sheets, three or four seconds too long he snarls a, “Say it!”

“No one’s better than daddy, I promise,” you choke, lamely reaching up for him as if you weren’t already close enough. He obliges, propping his weight on one elbow and smoothing over tears you didn’t know were shed with a thumb. He quenches his thirst with an open-mouth kiss, moans that starts to resemble mine, mine, mine onto your tongue as his hips falter in both fatigue and the aching need to cum. You coo him through it, nipping at his jaw and whispering words of praise when he whines vulnerably. The bratty, stubborn Jungkook was long gone; the sensitive and adoring love of your life resting, quite heavily, atop your chest as he fills you up silently.

“Not so tough, huh, baby?” He grunts unpleasantly.

His body rolls off, head remaining in the crook of your neck, “You just took a shower,” he says. He can’t even open his eyes if he tried, he feels so goddamn tired.

“Yeah, I’ll just wash up tomorrow.”

“Let me clean you,” he pries, forcing his brain to cooperate for two seconds, please. It doesn’t take much strength to keep him in position.

“Relax, Kookie.”

You trace over the ink on his back softly, outlining the lotuses a few times and kneading out the tension in his shoulder blades. The ticking of his wall clock is all that’s left to hear, the Iron Man behind the glass staring at you in an uncomfortable manner. You’d have to get rid of that if you were going to be together.

“Hey,” you start, a sudden idea exciting you. Peering down, Jungkook’s eyes are sealed shut, lips parted only enough to feel his faint breath as he dozes off into a deep slumber. It isn’t fake this time, you know for sure.

Oh well.

You rest your chin against his head and try your best to sleep as well; you suppose you could tell him in the morning.

A/N: hello sweet angel babies! again, thank you for supporting me thus far and i apologize that this isn’t as filthy as the first one. I really wanted to make Jungkook more genuine in this. However, this will be one of those fics where’ll I’ll casually drop in some non-smutty/smutty drabbles every so often!

With that being said, I don’t mind requests for drabbles as well as character asks! Feel free to drop-in whenever.

with love, poppy.

1K notes · View notes

depressed-sock · 5 years

Text

Reveal AU Part 4

A Fallen Hero Fanfic

This series will have spoilers! And Kiyo has the suicidal scar! There’s also mentions of blood later into the second part!

Give Me a Reason

Steel 1 week ago:

You snort, hand coming up to your face to hide your smile as you watch him take refuge from the onslaught of dogs by hiding behind the huge Mastiff. Only to have another dog jump in, butting her head into him to tackle him away from the Mastiff who happily stays laying down ignoring the chaos around him. Kiyo lets out a loud laugh petting her with a smile you didn’t even think was possible.

“Is he yours?”

You turn to look at the older woman wide eyed, coughing into your hand when she clearly points to Spoon who runs around in a circle before jumping onto Kiyo’s back and covering him with sloppy kisses, “Yes.”

She laughs lightly, “Thought I was talking about the cutie in the dog pile?”

“No,” you bite out staring resolutely ahead, trying to will the blush away. You don’t need any added complications.

She laughs again, “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him here. I think the last time was before that horrible incident… I had thought he had been one of the casualties,” She looks at Kiyo sadly, “He’s changed quite a bit...though not too much it seems,” she chuckles when he tries to stand only to have a german shepard tackle him back to the ground. “He always did like coming to the park to play with the dogs.”

You hadn’t known that… you wonder if Ortega ever knew if he’s ever seen Kiyo smile or laugh the way he does only here. “Horrible incident?” you ask looking at her, she couldn't mean…

“Heartbreak,” she says with a sad sigh, “I lost quite a few people to it.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you… it's been a long time since it happened but I'm glad there's at least one good thing it didn't take away,” she pats your shoulder gently before turning to leave. “Keep an eye on him, he's a good kid.”

You stare at him, watching as he giggles under the overwhelming attention from the dogs. He keeps trying to stand only to be overrun. You turn to say something to the woman but she’s already wandered off away from you chasing after her own dog.

“Hey!” you swivel your head back to see Kiyo running up, he has such a nice smile. Kiyo immediately frowns as he comes to a stop in front of you and you curse yourself. You shouldn’t be thinking that, especially when he’s around. He shakes his head slightly before resuming his smile. “I’m getting a Mastiff!”

“Kiyo-”

“Look at the fucker Chen,” he points to the Mastiff whose tongue lawls out of its mouth, “He’s fucking huge!”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Can you even afford one? Or even afford to take care of one?”

“Yes,” he says not looking you in the eye.

“You’re not stealing someone’s dog,” you cross your arms and he looks at you completely offended.

“I wouldn’t do that!” he pouts, “You're just saying that because I stole your wallet once, ON ACCIDENT.”

“You can’t steal a person’s wallet on accident!”

“You can if you didn’t want to steal a Rangers wallet,” he mutters, “Besides my job pays well enough for me to afford and take care of a dog or any other animal.”

“You have a job,” disbelief colors your voice but your smirk lightens the actual sentence.

“Ha ha, Yes I’ve got a job,” he crosses his arms defensively, “It’s not like I could go around being a vigilante again and steal from bad guys.”

“Ortega still trying to talk you into it?” you ask with a frustrated sigh. You wish Ortega would just drop it, it's best that Kiyo isn't in the line of fire. Kiyo responds with a wince and a nod of his head. You both sigh, moving to sit down on a nearby bench.

“I think he’s got Herald in on it too,” he groans as he leans back and watches Spoon run around, “I don’t think he gets that I want nothing to do with it. What happened with Heartbreak…” he swallows reflectively hands gripping tightly to his knees.

“You don’t have to talk about it with me if you don’t want too,” you murmur softly and he responds by shaking his head.

“Something broke Chen,” he forces the words out, his body shaking, “and it feels like Ortega thinks he can just recrack everything and glue it all back together the ‘right’ way but… it feels more like I’m going to lose what’s holding me together now.”

You set your hand gently on his shoulder and he leans into it, “What do you want me to do?”

He sighs in response, “I don’t know, I just… I honestly don’t know how to handle any of this. I don’t even know if seeing my therapist is helping or making things worse.” He can’t meet your eyes, “Chen… If I do something stupid... will you stop me,” he says it desperately, looking you in the eyes to try and make you understand.

“I will,” you don’t hesitate as memories of him jumping out of the window play in your mind. The sound of shattering of glass. Whatever happens, you’ll stop him and you will help him in whatever way you can.

He lets out a breath, sagging in relief, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“...What do you mean you stole from bad guys?”

“Oh look! I think Spoon wants attention. Bye!”

“Kiyo!”

…..

Steel Present:

You hadn’t expected this to be what he meant by something stupid but it fits well enough that you can freely choose to kick his ass to stop him from endangering himself. Heartbreak… Of course, it’s him. The name had never dawned on you until now. A part your lives that refuses to let go... that refuses to let him go.

You bring up your hand just in time to block the hit aimed for your head. You're being overwhelmed but the main issue is this person. A skull mask accented with carved wilting flowers stares back at you before a haunting chuckle rips from their throat.

“You're not the fly I was trying to draw in but I'll enjoy taking you apart all the same,” they push off you into a backflip and as they land the floor cracks beneath them. “Boys take 5. This one's mine,” they stand to full height slightly towering over you as they flick their wrist to produce a blade from their gauntlet.

You brace yourself, they look like they're built for speed and from the taste they've given you they're incredibly strong as well. You're going to have to play defense until they give you an opening. They swing forward just as the others around you back off. Your arms come up to parry their blade, aiming a punch towards their stomach that they avoid by jumping and landing on your arm. Their foot kicks off you face letting them jump back slightly before rushing back with the intent to stab you.

You shake off your daze in time to move to the side and land a blow against their back. They laugh in response completely unaffected before trying to swing a kick towards your head. You grab their leg and they twist in your hand jumping to allow their other leg to kick you square in the jaw. You let go, wincing back as they drop to the floor.

“Such a shame to ruin a pretty mind but I do prefer my men dazed and drooling,” they chuckle as they roll to their feet.

“You're not my type,” you comment raising your fists, defense isn't getting you anywhere you'll need to try to take them down by force.

“Oh yes I forgot, you prefer morons with pretty smiles,” they laugh as they easily dodge your attack. How do they know that?

They twist around you, moving like water before they stop just behind you. Close enough for you to hear their whispers, “You think far louder than you know.” They dodge as you swing back, a chuckle escaping them. “You know you're so much funnier to play with than I was led to believe. It's really too bad you-”

A small missile misses you by inches, hitting them head on, the explosion from it tossing them through the nearby wall. You turn to find Heartbreak dropping a missile launcher in time to block an attack from one of the goons who had been watching your fight.

“Did you really just shoot a fucking missile launcher in a building!” you rush forward fist planting itself into a goon's face who had been trying to sneak attack him.

“Not that kind of missile launcher,” comes his distorted reply as he throws someone over his shoulder.

“You literally just blew someone into the next room,” you growl out blocking a crowbar aimed at you, twisting it so you can use it against your attacker.

“Exactly, if it had been the kind you're thinking of do you really think this part of the building would still be here?” he grunts as he dodges an attack and you find each other back to back. “She's not down,” his voice comes out panicked you find yourself being grabbed and swung around as he switches places with you.

A loud crack and you turn to see his faceplate break around the skull mask’s fist. He pushes off away from them backing into you, “Pay attention!” he screams and you twist back in time to grab a person’s modded fist aimed at you. You feel him as he pushes off you and you can hear him fighting them, grunting in exhaustion. How many people has he fought to get to you?

You barely have time to pay attention to him as you take on the other opponents in the room. Is he winning? It doesn't sound like it. He screams out in pain and you punch the last goon in time to turn around to find a long blade sticking out through his side and the skull face person splattered with blood as they yank the blade out. No. He falls to his knees hands covering his wound. They raise their bloodied blade intent on finishing him.

You don't remember moving but you find yourself tackling them to the ground. They let out a frustrated scream that's cut short as you slam their head several times into the floor. You only stop when they lie limp beneath you and your own breathing has become harsh and uneven.

“Steel…” his voice comes out weak, halfway garbled by a broken voice distorter. You turn to find his grey eyes hazed over looking at you but not seeing you, blood spilling through his hands.

“Kiyo.”

#fallen hero rebirth #Steel/Chen #Kiyo Basri #fallen hero #my writing #reveal au #i told myself oh i'll go over the fight scene a few times to double check it!#i went over it once and than cried because i hate writing fight scenes

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snazzysnaz · 6 years

Text

“Duck Soup”

He was perfect. And she would do anything for him.

(AKA, my yandere!Uraraka fic I wrote at like, 3 am.)

Thought I might as well post this here...

I have no idea why I felt the need to write this, but the idea just wouldn't leave me head. Probably not my best work, but, uhhh... enjoy?

Warning for blood and violence, as well as very minor spoilers for the school trip arc.

It wasn't hard at all. Easy as pie, she turned the villain's own weapon against her, plunging the blade into her throat and letting it slide deep deep inside. Tearing an artery open, the villain (the bitch) dropped like a limp sack of potatoes. Blood painted Ochako's vision red, and just like that, it was over.

"You like him too, right?" She had giggled, swinging her knife in a wild arch. "He's so cute~ I can't wait to cut him up—slice and slice and slice until he's completely broken~" That sickeningly sweet smile of hers widened, sharp fangs on display and golden eyes crinkling in amusement. "I can't wait to feel his skin as my own—"

That's as far she got. Toga Himiko choked on her own words as blood bubbled up her throat and spilled out her mouth like vomit.

Disgusting.

And it wasn't hard at all, for Ochako to cry her eyes out and sniffle into the arms of the next hero she laid her eyes on, clinging to them scared and desperate. "I don't—I thought I was going to die—I didn't know what to do, I, I—" she heaved out a heavy sob, and the hero patted her head reassuringly.

"It's alright, I understand. You did what you had to, so try not to beat yourself up over it."

And that was that.

No one was going to question the fifteen year old girl, chubby faced and rosy cheeked, cute as a button and aspiring hero.

No one would dare, because Uraraka Ochako could do no wrong. There was just no way someone as small and delicate as her could ever take someones life intentionally.

And when no one was looking, she would finally let the smile that threatened to split her face apart free, shaking in silent laughter. And later, when Deku saw her, eyes wide in concern and questions on his tongue, "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" her heart soared.

She wrapped her arms around him, mindless of the surprised yelp that escaped. Shaking hands returned her embrace, and her heart pounded so excitedly in her chest.

It was fine, because Ochako almost died. She was still overwhelmed and emotional, so no one would question why she suddenly was so clingy.

"I'm glad you're okay," Deku murmured, warm and soft in her ear.

"Me too," she answered.

From the first time she saw him, she knew he was someone special. She didn't know why, or how she knew. She just did.

And when his fist tore through that zero pointer, bones breaking and flesh rendered bruised and purple just for her, she knew she was right.

Deku's face lit up with a nervous smile as he glanced at the pink, heart dotted letter hidden inside his shoe locker. Ochako stared at it, face forcibly neutral, while her hands clenched hard enough to break skin. The fake smile plastered to her face made her want to gag, but the nails biting into the palms of her hands help her regain control of her emotions.

"Is that a love letter?" she chirped, cheerful, even when all she really wanted to do was scream.

Deku opened the envelope carefully, as if he was afraid to damage it. Ochako wished she could tear it apart. He read it slowly, digesting every word with care, his blush increasing with each curvy letter. And oh—how she loved that expression. The way his freckles lit up with the rest of his skin like beautiful little stars, and his eyes shining with an innocence she never possessed. But knowing the reason behind it left a sour taste in her mouth, and she had to push down and ignore it before she did something she might regret.

"I-it is," he said, almost like it was a question. Like he couldn't believe it.

Ochako didn't want to believe it.

"They want to meet me on the rooftop after school!"

And that was all the information she needed. Before their last class ended, she complained to the teacher about a stomach ache. It was just so terrible, she had to be excused early so she could go home and rest.

Of course they believed her—because who would want to call Uraraka Ochako a liar?

She waited by the stairs leading up onto the rooftop. A petite girl passed her by, with soft indigo hair and dark eyes.

Deku waited on the roof for hours, but no one ever came.

He always seemed so nervous around people. First, she assumed it was just her. Maybe he was just shy around girls? But she quickly found that no; Deku just didn't know how to talk to people. If even so much as an inch of attention was thrown his way, he'd quickly turn into a stuttering mess of meaningless words and fidgeting limbs.

And when he saw Bakugou, he'd flinch.

It was Bakugou.

All Bakugou.

Bakugou.

Bakugou—

"Bakugou."

It wasn't hard at all, and Ochako had to wonder why she didn't do this sooner.

You didn't know yet, she consoled herself. You didn't know how important he is.

Important.

Wonderful.

Flawless.

Perfect.

Deku was all that, and more.

Ochako just didn't understand why it took her so long to see it.

It was sickeningly satisfying, hearing that soft thump as Bakugou's body hit the floor. But he wasn't dead yet. Crimson eyes met hers, burrowing deep into that brown abyss with a look of betrayal, anger and fear, all rolled into one intense ball of emotion that outlined his fading pupils. He tried to speak, but no words made themselves known. Only wet coughs, and Ochako took a step back to avoid the small droplets of blood from staining her shoes.

She killed him in much the same fashion she'd killed Toga, and for just a second, the image of the troublesome boy was replaced by someone else; just as blonde, and just as detestable. A large grin stretched across her face, perfect teeth flashing in the dark night.

"You deserve this," she told him. "You're worthless. Trash. You could never become a hero. The only thing you ever were, was a villain." She leaned in, close close, putting her lips to his ear. His jaw twitched, and she spoke lowly. "Everyone will be much happier with you dead."

He stopped moving.

She wasn't sure when her admiration turned to love, and her love to an obsession. Like Deku with his notebooks, she watched, memorizing every little detail about him. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't look away. Everything he did was perfect. From his shy little smiles and unwavering determination, to his intricate and convoluted plans bordering on madness that somehow always worked out in the end. And his endless compassion, a sight to see, like a real life saint.

Midoriya Izuku could do no wrong.

Midoriya Izuku was perfect.

Midoriya Izuku was a hero.

Deku cried, along with some of the other students of class 1-A. Those who didn't just stared blankly at nothing in silence, or shook in inaudible rage with no where to direct it.

Ochako's chest burned. It wasn't with regret, nor was it sadness. It was with anger, because even in death, Bakugou still managed to hurt people. He didn't deserve any of the tears Deku shed for him, and yet, she couldn't find it in herself to blame the freckled boy. His kindness was insurmountable, enough even for someone like Bakugou. It was one of the things that made her fall in love with him in the first place.

But it was alright, because Ochako would be there to comfort him. Deku would never have to be sad with her at his side. He would never have to be alone, because she would never leave him.

His shoulders shook, and her arms circled around them to hold him still.

"Who killed him?" was the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

But no one would ever so much as glance in her direction.

Midoriya Izuku drew people toward him like flies to honey. It was a sort of quiet, hidden charisma; the kind you wouldn't even notice until he already held you tight in his grasp. It wasn't intentional, it was just who he was. You could try to struggle, but like quicksand, it would only pull you deeper in.

Midoriya Izuku spread happiness to all those around him. And everybody wanted a part.

It wasn't hard at all, but she did feel a little sad. She'd gotten used to having him around, and found his company refreshing. But as he spent more time with Deku, the more she realized. She didn't miss the way he looked at him, with eyes so much like her own. How could she? Spellbound eyes, glued to the green eyed boy in breathless anticipation of what he would do next.

Just like her.

He's getting dangerous, her mind screamed. Close. Too close.

So she did just what she had to. Because Todoroki really should have known better.

Because she saw him first—It was only fair that she should have him.

He never saw her coming. Just like Bakugou and that dark haired girl she never learned the name of. Toga was the only one who ever stood a chance, but even she never expected Ochako to do what she did.

"You—" Todoroki coughed red; such a familiar sight by now. He fought so hard to breathe, so hard. But it wouldn't be enough. He grasped for her, fingers pulling at air as she stepped away from him, face completely blank. She didn't enjoy this as much as the rest, because for a while, she had considered this boy a friend.

But Deku meant more to her than Todoroki ever could.

He lay on the ground, stomach drowning in an ever growing pool of red. His limbs twitched, and small sparks of flame and brittle flakes of ice formed all around him.

It was almost beautiful, in a way.

Another cough. Then, a word, so soft it was almost inaudible. "B-Bakugou…"

Ochako opened her mouth in a silent "oh", but then, she smiled. "Yeah…" she laughed, quiet, eyes staring at nothing while she reminisces about the blond boy with a personality so despicable. Then, she looked down at Todoroki, whose eyes were stuck to her's in a shocked look of disbelief.

Her smile turned into a soft frown, and with genuine regret lacing every word, she said, "I didn't really want to do this, but you didn't give me much choice. You understand, right? Because you love him too."

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

She bent her knees into a squat, reaching a hand out and running it through his hair gently. "Before you're gone, I just want you to know... you look really pretty when you die." Her hand retraced and she leaned her cheek against it, her elbow resting on her thigh. A soft smile played across her lips. "It suits you."

Ice melted. Flickering flames were put out forever. Deku was going to be so heartbroken when he found out. But, it would be fine.

Because Ochako would still be there. Even if everyone else had to disappear, she would still be there.

Because she would do anything for him.

Because he was everything to her.

So don't cry, alright, Deku?

#bnha #yandere #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #fanfic #my writing #blood and violence #izuocha

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