#glimmer has never been so scared or guilty

[yourhighness6]

...I'm gonna need more therapy after the end of season 4

#never before have we seen adora look so broken #this is the second time catra has expressed a desire to end her own life in two seasons #glimmer has never been so scared or guilty #bow has never looked so desperate #scorpia trying with all her might to get to frosta and perfuma to offer them some semblance of comfort has left my heart broken #seahawk clinging to mermista unable to do anything about her pain shattered me into a million peices #light hope is gone #hordak has become a sympathetic character #I literally want to die #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #spop season 4 #crying screaming throwing up #scorfuma #seamista

[animeyanderelover]

Writers gift: How would Midoriya, Bakugou and Shoto feel if their darling rejected them?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, stalking, mentions of abduction

Rejection

Izuku Midoriya

💚Who could have known that a few so simple words could shatter a hero such as Deku as easily as they did? Months of planning, of careful observation, of preparing have gone into this one day. The day where Midoriya finally decided to confess, to do the first step within the excessive plan of the future he has basically already written down for you two. Yet all you had to do was turn him down as gently as you could to crush his heart. The slightly shy and flustered smile and the blush decorating his cheeks slowly leave his face as his eyes widen in shock, staring at you as if expecting you to tell him that you’re just joking whilst his mind has a hard time processing what you just said. This isn’t what he had planned! Why are you rejecting him?! You two were meant to be soulmates!

💚A few seconds of suffocating silence where you clearly grow uncomfortable, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and carefully observing Izuku. As soon as the information has finally pushed through Midoriya’s delusions, the shocked look on his face turns into one of utter heartbreak and sorrow, causing you to feel a bit guilty. Tears start dropping down within a matter of seconds, the hands that had previously held a bouquet of your favorite flowers start to shake, dropping the gift of love in the process as you’re left standing there with a man who’s crying his eyes out in front of you.

💚You’re standing there frozen, panicking because you don’t know what you could possibly say or do to comfort Izuku. But just as you’re about to attempt to pat his back, something inside Deku seems to snap. He reaches out to hold both of your hands in his one shaking ones, teary eyes staring with a broken glimmer inside of them into your own as another smile appears on his face. A smile laced with desperation, with utter denial. He suddenly starts talking fast with a shaking voice that he completely understands. You poor sweetheart probably just don’t know how to respond to his confession. You’ve never been in a real relationship before after all! That’s it! You’re just a bit overwhelmed right now!

💚It sounds like he’s talking primarily to himself right now to convince himself and you alongside the way too. The shift in his behavior gives you a bad feeling yet when you try to free your hands, Deku only tightens his hold. You don’t have to be scared nor shy right now! He knows how nervous you’re right now but you don’t have to be frightened at all. You two were meant to be together after all, you just don’t know it yet. Now you’re the one who starts to shake as the clearly delusional boy pulls you even closer until you’re in his arms, starts rubbing your back when he notices your trembling form whilst his mind continues denying the truth. There’s no running now, sweetheart, for everything you might try to do to get him back to his senses will only end in stronger denial from Midoriya’s side.

Katsuki Bakugou

💥You can only blink confused at Bakugou for a few moments, doubting what you’ve just heard? Did he just admit that he likes you? Did Katsuki Bakugou just confess to you?! Your clearly puzzled expression and the silence after his confession quickly cause the blonde male to grow impatient as his jittery nerves get the better of him. He hates to admit it to himself right now but he’s nervous right now. He snaps as mildly as he can at you, reminding you that you need to give him an answer. His voice brings you out of your dazed state yet the first question you have to ask him is if he’s being honest with you right now.

💥A short flicker of annoyance crosses Katsuki’s face before he lets out a huff, hand scratching the back of his neck as he grumbles that he wouldn’t bother to be here if he wouldn’t really mean it. You notice how he averts your eyes for a short moment when admitting his feelings once more, a slight dust of pink on his face before his gaze meets yours again. You notice the hint of nervousness inside of his eyes and with that the situation you find yourself in suddenly comes crashing down on you, leaving you feeling helpless. You know Katsuki’s temper so you try to think desperately of a way to offend him as little as possible. However, Bakugou is no idiot to the panic flashing across your face or how your eyes dart to the ground, brainstorming how to get out of this situation.

💥When he asks you if you can’t answer him because you want to reject him but are afraid of his reaction, you feel like a deer in headlights. The scared look you give him when you look up is more than enough to answer his question. His face twists with the emotions of heartbreak and even betrayal, a short view of emotional vulnerability that has you feeling sorry for a few moments. That’s before an angry scowl masks any of his pain and a scoff leaves his lips, red eyes glaring at you and making you feel small. You flinch when he starts raising his voice against you, almost shouting at you, and calling you a loser and waste of his time before turning around and storming away, teeth gritting against each other and fists clenched to suppress the emotions piling up inside of him and threatening to overwhelm him.

💥He lets out his feelings the only way he knows in the end though, which is anger. A few trash bins have to suffer immeasurable damage on his way away from you, the source of his current pain. You’ve hurt Katsuki’s pride with your rejection. You notice at times his red eyes glaring at you as he holds a grudge now, although he does now that his anger is partially just irrational. He can’t help it though as his possessive side gets fired up, leading him to acting aggressive and threatening people around you. You start feeling more and more terrified of him and honestly, I can’t blame you. At this rate it’s only a question of time until you find yourself imprisoned by his possessive love and hurt pride.

Shoto Todoroki

🔥❄️You don’t even know what you were expecting when Shoto Todoroki approached you earlier the day and asked you if he could talk to you later on privately. You would have honestly rather heard anything else than hearing him mumbling with a hint of nervousness and a stiff and awkward body that he has developed feelings for you and that he wants to have a relationship with you. All thoughts are silenced for a moment inside your head as you stare at him with eyes blown wide open, reflecting your disbelief. He eventually meets your own gaze, his stoic expression not giving any of the feelings away. If it wouldn’t be for his tense body and the scared glimmer in his eyes, you probably would have no idea what he’s feeling right now.

🔥❄️Already you can feel the jabs of guilt in your heart though as you already know what your answer will be. Knowing his terrible childhood though makes it not easier for you to tell him that you don’t feel the same as he does. You choose every word you tell him carefully, trying your best to avoid him any heartbreak as good as you can and hopefully prevent any negative feelings between you two afterwards. His stoic face cracks when he listens to your words and gets to know that you don’t feel the same way, a shaken up look taking over his face. He suddenly can’t bear looking at you any longer, head hanging low and his eyes hiding behind his two-colored hair.

🔥❄️You leave him standing there all by himself, with his head looking down, his fist clenched and his body slightly trembling. You think you’d only rub more salt in his fresh wound if you were to stay. Whilst you turn your back on him, Shoto suffers from a silent breakdown though, his heart screaming with the pain you just put it through. He starts hyperventilating slightly, his fast heartbeat is ringing inside his ears and his vision gets blurry as a wet film starts covering his eyes. When he finally looks after your form, all his emotions are perfectly shown on his face yet you don’t even turn around. You’re walking away from him. You’re leaving him. Don’t leave him! He’s chasing after you as soon as that thought hits him.

🔥❄️You only notice when you hear the footsteps behind you and turn around, his hand grabbing your arm and yanking you back slightly almost at the same time. Words die out on your tongue when you see his face, desperation and fear written all over it whilst his hands are clutching the material of your jacket tightly. Both of you just stand like this in silence, until realization flashes Shoto’s eyes and he snaps out of whatever just overcame him. He lets go of your jacket and mutters an apology before he turns around and walks away from you, eyes fixed the entire time on the ground. Be warned though that mismatched eyes are always watching you now, that his presence is always hiding somewhere around you. Do you want to bet how long it takes him until his desperation and pain pushes him into sweet delusions and the end of your freedom?

#yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere midoriya #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere deku #yandere bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere shoto #yandere shoto todoroki

[serenity-songbird]

200 Followers Special!!!

I'm gone for how long and I see all these new people?!

Holey Cow!!!

Thank y'all so much for your support and love.

I greatly appreciate y'all.

Kyle was freaking the fuck out.

How could he have been so careless?

He should've planned better.

...But it's not not like he planned for it to happen...I mean it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.

No.

No excuses.

He fucked up.

All his plans for the future completely down the drain. He wasn't even 18 yet for goodness sake! It was still two months until he was supposed to become an adult!

He should write his will now.

Because his mother was going to kill him before he could make it that far.

"K-Kyle?" You grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and he snapped his head towards you. He was so lost in his mind that he forgot you were there.

He instantly felt guilty for ignoring you when he saw the tears streaming down your face. He should have considered how you were feeling. You were probably more terrified than he was.

The 3 white sticks were still in your hand. All were reading positive. You were shaking and clenching onto his jacket.

"A-are you going to leave me?"

He blinked.

"What?"

"I-I mean, we were just talking about all of our plans for the future a-and now all of that is going to change. You got a scholarship to Harvard for fuck's sake! Y-you can't go to Harvard with a b-b-baby!" You dropped the sticks and clenched onto his jacket with both your hands as his eyes widened. "I don't know what to do!!!"

"(Y/N)..."

"I-I can't do this alone!" You were sobbing.

"(Y/N)."

"O-Our parents are gonna kill us!" You were starting to hyperventilate.

"(Y/N)!"

"P-please don't leave me!" You looked like you were going to pass out.

"(Y/N)!!!" He had to yell your name as he grabbed your shoulders to steady you. You flinched back as the volume of his voice. He felt bad for having to scare you, but he had to calm you down. "Breathe, Sweetheart. You need to breathe."

He pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back. He shooshed you and swayed back and forth to calm you down. You were sobbing and hiccuping into his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and rubbed your scalp.

"I'm not going to leave you, Sweetheart...Why would you think that? I'm not that irresponsible."

"B-Because you're always t-talking about h-how you're g-going to be successful and put your all into school s-so you can get a g-good job a-and that nothing i-is going to distract you from your g-goal. B-but a b-b-baby i-is a really big distraction and we were already talking about b-breaking up because of the distance and and-"

"Ssshhh. Hey. What did I say about breathing?" He had to cut you off because you started hyperventilating again. "I'm not going to leave you. Yes, this does change a lot of things, but I'm not going to abandon you. Okay? Im scared too, but we will work this out together."

Is he still terrified?

Usually, you're the one who calms him down. I mean, he still has major anger issues and you're the only one that can stop him from blowing up.

But now, he is the one consoling you.

Absolutely.

He is freaking out as much as you are, but he needs to be strong for you.

Yes, you two were considering breaking up because your goals were just too different.

Make no mistake, he didn't want to break up. He loved you so much it hurt. But a long distance relationship took a lot of work. Plus, with school, homework, and the time distance; it only made it even more challenging.

That's why as the days edged closer to graduation and leaving for college, you had planned to spread as much time together as possible.

It's what also lead to this outcome...

Yet, he would never regret that night.

You were so beautiful in your dress. It was the Winter Festival right before Christmas break. He wasn't a dancer, but he couldn't say no to you. He held you so close as you swayed back and forth. You laughter, your smile, the way your eyes glimmered in happiness...It was all ingrained into his mind.

You both had managed to sneak away from everybody else. You didn't plan to have sex. You just wanted a moment to yourselves.

It was a beautiful night. He took you out for a drive in your car and parked at the cliff that over looked the town.

Your Uncle Jimbo gifted you his red pick-up truck after you got your license. It was in the back of the truck where you two lay. You lined the back with blankets and pillows. You were curled up next to him, tracing circles on his chest while you two talked about anything and everything all at once.

The winter air wasn't too cold for once and the heat between your bodies as well as the blankets and heater near your feet kept you warm. The ground had about an inch or two of the snow and the sky was clear. You counted the stars and admired the full moon.

The day that you would have to part was drawing nearer and it hurt. He savored every bit of that night.

He gently grabbed your chin guiding you into a kiss. He had put every ounce of love and admiration into a passionate kiss. Every word that was left unspoken between you two was poured into that kiss.

He was just so in love with you and you loved him equally as much. The kiss grew more heated in the moment. His hands gripped your waist so tightly as he readjusted his position so he was over you. He took your hands in his and held them on either side of your head.

Your tongues danced in unison and he deepened the kiss. Your breath mingled with his. His right hand tangled itself in your hair and readjusted your head back so he could leave kisses on you neck.

The moment you moaned as he sucked a sensitive part of your neck, all rational flew out the window.

Despite dating for three years, you two had never had sex before. It's not that he didn't want to, it was just that he wanted to respect you and not take advantage of you.

That, and your brother would kill him if he found out...

But the sound of your moans and the way your beauty glowed in the moonlight, had him hooked.

He didn't think about the consequences of putting it in without a condom. He didn't think about the fact that your family would kill him for taking your innocence away.

All that was on his mind was the way you made him feel and what he wanted to do to you. He hadn't even left the town yet and he already knew how much he would miss you and how much it would hurt. He wanted every piece of you before he left.

So, he stole your virginity and gave you his in return.

And it felt, oh so good.

Even in this moment, knowing that it resulted in you pregnancy, he still couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Did he wish he used a condom?

Yeah...Yeah.

But what's done is done.

The next step is getting past it and figuring out what to do.

He had moved you over to the couch and cradled you. He pressed kisses into you head as he calmed you down.

Despite the fear, he also felt a bit...relieved?

Not that he wanted to have a baby this early... But this means that he had an exucse to keep you by his side forever.

Now that you were tied to him forever, he didn't need to feel jealous thoughts of another man claiming you as his own. Now you would be forever his.

He held you tighter.

Whenever he thought about the future, he always imagined you there with him. He dreamt of marrying you one day. Now, thanks to this, it may actually happen.

Did he sound a bit possessive?

Maybe.

But he really, really loved you.

You had finally calmed down a bit and wiped your face. He passed you the tissue box on the side table and you wiped away all your snot and tears.

Kyle was glad that his parents and little brother weren't home right now. It allowed you both to have a moment to take in everything.

"I-I don't have a clue on what we are supposed to do." You stated in between sniffles.

"...Me neither, but we'll figure it out." He paused before releasing one of his worries. "Y-You're not thinking of getting rid of it...are you?" You pulled away from him in shock.

"What?! No! Of course not!" Your face morphed into hurt. "A-Are you saying you want me to?!"

"No! Of course I don't! I just wanted to make sure you didn't either!" He breathed a sigh of relief.

A moment of silence passed between you too. You head lay on his shoulder and you sat on his lap. Your legs wrapped around his back and your arms draped around his neck. You clung onto him like a koala, but he didn't mind. He just rubbed Circles on your back.

The silence wasn't awkward or bad. It was just a moment of really taking in the news and figuring out what to do next.

He sighed in frustration and buried his face in your neck, pestering small kisses here and there. The Winter Festival was held December 19th. Today was March 26 sooo, you were about nine weeks.

You didn't have to tell everyone right away. Just keep it a secret til you had a more concrete plan.

Yeah.

Plus...You both needed to prepare yourself for the wrath of you parents...

He wondered how Stan would react.

...

And Shelly too...

Oh shit!

Stan was going to fucking kill him.

He didn't know which one he was more terrified of.

You were the youngest twin and Stan and Shelly had always been overprotective over you. He didn't want to imagine the anger they would feel from the news.

He needs to prepare for that too...

A month had passed since you told him the news. By now you both had formed a more solid plan. Luckily for him, Harvard was offering virtual classes.

As for you, you were planning to attend a nearby community college that allowed you to get your bachelor's in (job).

He had applied for a job at a nearby warehouse that payed $16.23 per hour which was pretty decent. He had lucked out.

You were a very artsy person, so you created crafts, paintings, sewed some easy outfits, along with pillows and toys, etc. Your friends really helped spread the word and a lot of people had begun to requests items.

The most money you received from one item was a large, colorful painting that was sold at $80. The average prices for things you sold were between $10-$50 depending on what the customer wants.

Honestly, you were raining in some cash. And he was relieved that it wasn't hazardous to your health. He doesn't know what he'd do if you got a job at a restaurant or fast food place. (He had to talk you out of it because he insisted that you would be overworked. Plus what if you slipped on a stray piece of food and got hurt)?

Kyle was very doting on you. He always made sure you were okay and taking care of yourself. If you craved something at 1 A.M. he would literally drive to the 24 hour to buy it for you. He made sure you were eating a lot of fruits and veges and taking your vitamins. He literally had a whole ass meal plan and notes of what was okay to eat and what wasn't.

Always put reminders on his phone for your appointments so you could go together. The first ultrasound was a...ride to say the least. When the doctor said you were having twins, he nearly passed out.

Thinking back, he probably should have expected it. Twins ran in your family. Hell, you were a twin.

So far no one suspected anything. Stan was curious as to why Kyle was being more protective than usual, but shrugged it off thinking it was because he was going to leave soon.

Today was the day you would announce your pregnancy to the family. You did your research, came up with a gameplan, and had started saving money.

You both were really nervous.

Your family does monthly game nights and tonight Kyle's family would be joining.

You decided to tell them then since everyone would be together.

Can wait to see this shitshow...

You held the UNO cards in your hand, looking between your father and brother with an annoyed look. They were going back and forth saying that the other was cheating.

"How many UNO draw cards do you have!? I have 28 cards now, Stan! 28!!!" You dad shook the cards to emphasize. "There is no way there is that much draw cards! At least pull out an UNO reverse card and use those draw cards on Kyle!" Stan rolled his eyes.

"Dad. It's just a game. Relax. Besides I'm pretty sure we used all the reverse cards." Stan gestured to the pile of used cards.

You tuned them out and whisper-yelled in Kyle's ear.

"They do this every month! Every. Single. Time." Kyle tilted his head to you.

"Game nights get pretty intense, huh? Knowing your dad, it's not surprising..."

You huffed in frustration and pinched the bridge of your nose.

   Neither of you have been able to get a word in to reveal the news and you were getting more annoyed by the hour.

   It's not that you were looking forward to their reactions. Which you definitely were not.

   It's just that you both wanted to finally get it off your chests and get it over with. Plus, with your raging hormones, your mood swings were terrible. It didn't help that the nausea and vomiting still haven't gone away and you were constantly going to the bathroom multiple times a day.

   Seriously, how long was this going to take?

   "A lion! Rain! Dancer!" Ike was shouting excitedly.

   "Ballerina!?" Mrs. Shelia was confused.

   "Uh, waves?" And Kyle was just over it.

   You were now playing Charades and Mr. Gerald was trying to demonstrate an octopus.

   He wasn't doing so good.

   Your families had split up into two teams. Since you were the odd one out, you offered to be score keeper as well as the one to assign what the families had to guess. You didn't feel like moving around too much.

   It had been two hours and this was the last game.

   You still hadn't told the news.

   Despite the minor arguing and extreme competitiveness, it was actually pretty fun.

   Watching Mr. Gerald try and demonstrate an octopus was quite entertaining and you laughed a few times.

Then an idea sprung up.

If you couldn't get a word in...Maybe you could act it.

You scribbled a message on the board before crossing your hands into a T.

"Time out! I want to play now. Kyle, take the board and scribble something I can act."

Kyle rose an eyebrow at you before getting up and taking the clipboard. "Okay." He looked down about to erase the board, but paused as he read the message. He gave you a deadpan look before shrugging and following the instructions you wrote.

He pretended to write and showed you the board. You took a moment to cross you arms in thought and nodded. (You had to make it seem you were thinking).

"Okay. This one is a 2 word sentence. Timer starts now." Kyle informed your team and flipped the hourglass upside down.

Immediately, you started to point at yourself.

"Chest!" Randy abruptly shouted.

You shook your head. You patted your chest.

"Heart?" Stan guessed. Again you shook your head. You raised both hands to point at yourself in a downwards motion.

"You!" Sharon snap her finger. You nodded while twirling your hand to convey to build upon the word.

"You're." Shelly hit it right on the head. Growing up, you two had gotten used to using hand motions at each other. When you'd help each other sneak out of the house without your parents knowing.

You clapped and nodded excessively. Halfway there. Kyle, knowing how your father is, had already moved farther from the group and closer to the bathroom. He had to make a quick break so he could lock himself in there so he'd live to see another day. Hopefully.

You then patted your stomach.

"You're hungry." Stan started. You shook your head. Then your stomach growled. You blushed.

"Okay well I'm still right. I don't know how you're still hungry though. We just ate." Stan joked. You gave him an annoyed look and shushed him. You tried patting your stomach again.

"Your stomach hurts!"

"Randy that's three words..."Sharon rolled her eyes before taking her guess. "You're full?"

You shook your head once again. You then hugged your stomach.

"You're cramping." Shelley mused.

You shook your head more. You hummed before taking your arms and made it seem like you were cradling something back and forth.

You're family just looked at you blankly.

"Oh my- I thought my dad was the worst at this, but you're really toping the cake, (Y/N)." Kyle shook his head while laughing.

"Hey! I wasn't that bad!" Gerald pouted to himself.

"Bubby. Why are you all the way over there?"

"Yeah Dude, you can some closer." Stan gave him a confused look.

"I'm taking precautions."

"Precautions for what?" Ike questioned his brother.

"Nevermind him! We just need one more point to win! (Y/N)! Hurry up!"

You huffed. Luckily, during their bickering, you got an idea on how to better convey you pregnancy. You cupped a circle from the top of your abdomen to the bottem to demonstrate a large belly.

"You're fat!" Stan pointed at you. You glared at Stan.

"Don't look at me like that! You're portraying a big belly, what else could it be?!"

"Pregnant! You're pregnant!" Sharon jumped up and pointed.

"Yes! That's right! I'm pregnant." The hourglass emptied signifying your family's win.

Kyle was now holding the handle of the open bathroom door, watching.

"Hot damn! We won. The answer was she's pregnant. The Marsh's win again!" Randy fist bumped the air.

Then...silence...

.

.

.

"Wait...What?"

Everyone in the room whipped their heads towards you, damn near breaking their necks in the process.

You stood there was a nervous smile, holding up the pregnancy tests and ultrasound pictures up for all to see.

"Sssuuupriiissse???..."

Sharon, being the closest to you snatched the pictures immediately.

"These...these are real. You'reactually pregnant!? And...with TWINS!!!" She snapped her head in shock and disbelief with a hint of anger.

"Whatwhatwhat!!!" Sheila screeched.

All heads then turned to Kyle who stood one foot in the door like a deer in headlights.

"Ooohhh. That's what you meant by precautions." Ike figured out.

Stan was the first one jump up and stomp menacingly towards Kyle..

"Kyle what the fuck!?!?!?" Kyle dashed into the bathroom and locked it. Despite Stan getting up first, Randy was the one immediately knocking at the door, pissed up.

"You got my daughter pregnant?!?!?! How dare you touch my little girl!!!"

"Dad! I'm 17! I'm not little anymore!"

"Oh, so you're old enough to get pregnant?! (Y/N), this completely irresponsible! What were you thinking!?!?!? What about college and you're future?!?!?!" Sharon took a step to you and you stepped back.

"I'm pregnant! You can't hit a pregnant woman. You wouldn't harm a baby, would you?"

She scoffed, knowing you were right, but still too pissed and wanting to smack you upside the head.

"Get out of there, you turd! Face us and get your ass beat like a man!" Shelley roared.

"I cannot believe this?! Out of all the people in the town, my son was the first one to become a father! Kyle, I did not raise you like this!"

"Your mother is right, Kyle! I know you two are getting older and it was bound to happen, but you could've at least used protection or birth control or at least pull out!!!" Gerald swiped his hand over his face in exasperation.

"No no no. Abstinence!!! My little girl shouldn't ever be touched by any man at all!!!"

"Oh come one, Randy. That's a bit unrealistic. They are turning 18 soon. It was going to happen someday..."

"Mind you're damn business, Gerald! It was probably your son who corrupted her innocent little mind and forced her into it!"

"What?!?!?! I would never do that!!!" Kyle screeched from behind the door.

"Whoa!!! Dad, no, that is not what happened! It was consensual!!! Geez, why would you say that?!"

"Excuse me!!!" Shelia blanched.

"Hey, that is WAY off line, Randy! Who the hell do you think you are to say that. You're daughter is probably the one who seduced him and threw herself at him!!!"

"Throw herself at him?! (Y/N) would never!" Sharon stood in front of you.

"Now who's the one way off line, Gerald? My daughter is too innocent to be like that!"

"Innocent enough to get pregnant?"

"That's it!"

"Hold on! Can't we be civilized about this?!" You tried to intervene, but it fell of dead ears.

"How could you do this, Kyle?! I thought you were my best friend!"

"I am your best friend! It just happened in the spur of the moment. We didn't plan it!"

"Oh please. You were probably waiting for it to happen and took the opportunity to finally do all the perverted things you wanted to her!" Shelley spat at him.

"What? No! What kind of person do you take me for?!"

Soon everyone in the room was yelling over each other trying to out scream the other. You were trying to get everyone to calm down, Kyle was trying to explain that he wasn't a pervert, both of your parents were now fighting each other, and Stan and Shelley were trying to break down the door to kick Kyle's ass.

You were sure the neighbors could hear the commotion and by tomorrow the whole town would know your business.

Your hormones starting taking over and your anxiety took hold of you.

'I'm an idiot! Why did I think of making a game out of this. I ruined everything. This is all my fault! Now Kyle's going to be hated by my family and his family is going to hate me! I'm so stupid. What if they forbid me from ever seeing him again? What if I have to raise the twins by myself? Oh goodness...what if they make me get rid of them?'

You back away from everyone covering your ears trying to fight the tears.

Your thoughts were clouding your judgment and making you start to hyperventilate. You shook and fell to your knees curling into a ball.

'I-I can't do that...I'd never be able to live with myself. What if when I say no, they kick me out of the house? Would they do that? I disappointed them...And Kyle's parents are disappointed in him too. What if we both get kicked out?! What would we do then?!"

You shut your eyes and tried to tune them out. But they were too loud. The voices mingled together into one noise to where you could no longer distinguish who was saying what.

Just as you started to get dizzy, someone removed your hands over your ears and replaced them with headphones.

Suddenly, the yelling stopped. All you could here was calming classical music drowning out everything else.

You slowly looked up to see Ike giving you a worried look. You hadn't realized, he was the only one who didn't get involved in the fight.

Instead, he comforted you and wiped your tears. He smiled awkwardly at you, silently telling you it was okay.

The music and Ike's calming back rubs eased your form. Soon, your breathing slowed and you no longer felt the need to puke.

At least Ike still liked you. Ike had always viewed you as an older sister. In times where Kyle wasn't around and he really needed someone, you were there. When he was being bullied at the park by 6th graders, you were there to kick the crap out of them and scared them off. You supported him just as much as Kyle did. Sometimes, you even helped him when he got in trouble with his parents and stepped in with an alibi about why he had gotten home late.

That's why the pre-teen decided he would support you both now. Because you were always there to back him up. It was his turn to stand up to protect you.

He handed you a tissue and you blew your nose. Once you were calmed enough and your tears were dry he helped you up and sat you down on the couch.

"Thank you, Ike." You sniffed. " You're a great kid." He smiled at you.

"Well, I wouldn't want anything to happen to my big sister and niece/nephew. You are my family, afterall." He stated as a matter of fact.

You shot him a grateful smile. You went to take off the headphones, but he stopped you.

"You might want to keep the headphones on." You tilted your head at him in confusion.

Then, Ike pulled out an airhorn out from his pocket.

What the-Where'd he pull that out from?

{Ike: I materialized it out of thin air thanks to the convenience of fanfiction.

Serenity: Damn it, Ike! Stop breaking the 4th Wall!!!}

Ignoring author-chan, Ike covered his ears as his blow the airhorn.

The loud, awful sound silenced all people in the room as they held their ears in pain.

"Enough!!! Can't you see you're stressing them out?! (Y/N) and Kyle are already stressed as it is. All this fighting isn't going to help anyone. Yeah, they made a mistake. Nothing is going to change the fact that they are having a baby. Or two. So the least we could do its figure out what to do next and support them in any way we can. So why don't we all stop yelling and insulting each other and figure this out?"

"Figure what out!? Kyle-" Ike blew the horn again to inturrupt Stan.

"Oh come on! He-" He blew it again when Randy yelled.

"Ike! You put that-" He blew it again at Shelia.

"You'd better stop-" He inturrupted Gerald.

"Anytime someone yells or begins to argue I'm blowing the horn. Let's all sit down like civilized people and talk this out rationally."

"Rationally?! Why I ought to-" There goes the horn again towards Shelley.

"Will you please stop?!" Sharon covered her ears in pain as she practically begged him.

"I will stop once everyone sits down and calms down." All the adults looked at the 12-year-old menacingly.

Ike proudly stood his ground without wavering in fear at the mean looks he was receiving.

Eventually, they all sat down after a few more honks.

You had to knock on the door and lead Kyle out. You walked in front of him with your arms spread out to protect him as you both sidestepped to the opposite side the room. Neither of you broke eye contact at the pack of wolves who were staring at the two of you like you were their next meal. Ike had to honk the horn a few more times because your dad, brother, and sister nearly pounced on him.

It was a slow process, but you were able to have a proper talk about the situation.

It was a long couple hours.

You and Kyle told your family about the new college plan, your new jobs, and how much money you had already saved.

They were pleased that your scholarships would not go to waste and that you both were already succeeding financially.

You family was impressed at your art skills and how much they had improved. Your father was already making plans on you using your skills to advertise Tegridy Farms™ and making brand made T-shirts. Everyone else in the room rolled their eyes except you who sparkled in excitement to do new projects and get your work out in the public more.

Like Father like Daughter...

After a long scolding from your parents, it was time to go. (You wouldn't let anyone leave until everyone apologized for all the awful things they said and to take them back. Luckily, it helped ease the tension and bad blood).

All in all, everything turned out somewhat okay. Things eventually went back to normal once everyone accepted the reality and forgave each other.

Just as you predicted, your nosy neighbors heard the ruckus and didn't hesitate to tell everyone and their mom about your pregnancy.

This totally pissed off you parents.

At school the next day, the other kids were giving you looks. You still hadn't known that they knew, so you, Kyle, and Stan were confused at all the attention.

Wendy and Cartman, surprisingly, ran up to you three together with Kenny and Bebe trailing behind.

"(Y/N)! Sweetie! Say it's not true!" Wendy gently grabbed your hands in desperation.

"It's not true obviously! Why would anyone want to do that with a Jew? Especially Kyle. Fucking gross man! We all know Kyle is paying (Y/N) to be with him. Don't worry, (Y/n). We know the truth. You're safe, you don't have to pretend anymore."

"Shut the fuck up, Fatass! Nobody's paying anybody. And what are you both even talking about?!" Kyle pushed Cartman off him.

"Mmph mmm Hmm! (Dude, it's all over the school! People are saying (Y/N)'s pregnant!)" Kenny's muffled words had you widening your eyes.

"Is it true, girl? Did you finally lose your innocence? Without telling me? Girl, if you had asked for advice I would've given you a condom!!! Its Sex-Ed 101!!!" Your shocked face quickly morphed into annoyance at Bebe's spiel.

"Whoa whoa whoa!!! What the fuck?!?!?! We literally just found out last night. How did the whole town find out so quickly. Did you tell people before you told your own families?!" Stan glared at the two of you.

"No!!! I didn't tell anyone besides our families! I swear! You guys were the first we told! Unless-"

"I didn't tell anyone else either!!! How the fuck does everyone know?!" Kyle inturrupted you to yell his response.

"O.M.G. It is true!!! Kyle you sly dog!!! Knocking her up so she couldn't leave you. How scandalous!!!" Bebe was way too excited about this new revelation.

"Damn Kyle. You finally let the possessiveness out, huh? Just couldn't let that sweet ass go, huh? You sly son of a bitch." Kenny took off his hood to poke fun at Kyle. He was joking of course. Unlike the others, he knew you two had sex and wasn't suprised . (He was bringing his own date to do the exact same thing, but quickly figured out the spot was taken).

"That is not what I did!" Kyle blushed bright red, ignoring the fact that he did think that thought in the beginning, and Stan gagged.

"Oh, (Y/N)...You poor thing. Kyle, I expected more out of you! How could you?!" Wendy hugged you protectively.

Cartman stepped back in shock when you confirmed the truth. It wasn't until Wendy spoke that he snapped back to reality.

"No...It can't be. NOOO!!!" Cartman dramatically fell to the ground. "We can't have more Jersey Ginger Jews in this town. You sick bastard, Kyle! How dare you take advantage of such an innocent soul! This is it, isn't it?! You're master plan to take over the Skool, no the entire United States!!! You'll force everyone to bow down to you. You're going to force everyone to become dirty Jews and dye their hair red!"

Cartman pushed Wendy out of the way and roughly grabbed your shoulders, scaring the shit out of you. "It's okay, (Y/N)!!! We will save you. The abortion clinic is right down the street, we'll take you there right now and you can have those demons removed out of you."

"Ex-fucking-scuse me?!?!?!" Now you weren't one to curse and get pissed, but Eric calling your children 'demons' and talking about abortion pissed you the fuck off.

"Get the fuck away from her, asshole!!! We already decided we are keeping the twins!!!" Kyle punched Cartman out of the way towards Wendy who punched him again for pushing her and his abortion comment "And why is everyone suggesting this is all my fault and making me the bad guy?!?!?!"

"T-T-Twins???" Cartman's face was bruised from the punches, but it seems the twins comment hit him harder. "They're spreading!!!" Cartman made a huge scene in the hallway flailing his arms. You hid behind a seething Kyle in embarrassment. "Everybody run!!! Save yoursleves!!! They are going to destroy us all!!!"

Poor Butters, who was innocently walking to class, was pulled by the collar and shaken about by Cartman.

"Butters, oh, Butters!!! It's just as I told you before. The Jews. The Jews are taking over. Nowhere is safe!"

"O-oh geez!!!" Now Butters was terrified and panicked. With Cartman's influence, he was probably going to do something crazy and stupid alongside Cartman.

...Can't wait to see this shitshow.

Your pregnancy was the talk of the school. People, who had nothing better to do, talked all about it. Craig's gang come up to confront you guys about it and were shocked at the news. However, compared to your gang, they took it a lot better and even congratulated you both.

It was a nice, refreshing, and normal interaction and you were grateful for it. So that's why you and Kyle (and later Kenny) sat with Craig's gang that lunch period. Away from angry brothers and over-the-top drama kings/queens.

The worst part was when at last period, PC Principle called a suprise assembly. The assembly was all about teen pregnancy and how we should respect and support young mothers. And if they didn't they would, in PC Principle's words, "Get their privilege checked with an asskicking!"

It was super embarrassing. I mean, at least people were more accepting now, so it wasn't completely pointless.

No. What was pointless. Was when PC Principle and Vice Principal Strong Woman pulled you both into their office to talk about teen pregnancy and what to expect.

They reiterated everything your parents and the pregnancy books already told you...

It was an eventful day to say the least.

As the months passed, the chitter chatter died down and graduation came and went.

Your mothers' were even more doting than Kyle was. Strict diet, excersie, and teachings everyday. It was tedious and stressful, yet at the same time you were pampered and spoiled so it wasn't completely awful.

Kyle's family still adored you and were already calling you their daughter-in-law. It was either Kyle or Ike who would have to pull you away from them so they wouldn't smother you with love too much. Not that you minded. Shelia made the best sweets.

You're mother was obsessed with baby clothing and decorated the spare bedroom into a baby's room. Your father on the other hand, wasn't exactly thrilled at the fact his precious little girl was growing up. It took some time until Kyle was able to be In his sights without Randy wanting to strangle him.

Stan and Shelley were even more protective of you now. Surprisingly, it was Shelley who came around to being nice to Kyle first. Shelley and you had some quality sister time and she decided to fully support you and Kyle. Afterall, she knew that if the roles had been switched, you'd have her back. But if he hurt you, she'd kill him and bury his corspe 6ft under. Stan, on the other hand, was still pretty pissed. He felt like Kyle betrayed him. How could Kyle lie to him and take advantage of his own twin? You and Kenny literally dragged him by the ears to get him to talk to Kyle. Stan, eventually, forgave Kyle and things went back to normal.

...Except the fact that Cartman deliberately tried to convince you to get an abortion/try to stage an "accident" where you "unfortunately" lost the twins. To the point where, you couldn't be left alone with him and were now guarded by your gang, the girls, and even Craig's gang stood watch over you. (Come on...It's Cartman. We all know he'd do something like this). He eventually gave up (at least you hoped so) and would now just make snide comments that would piss Kyle off and resulted in a lot of fights.

Wendy, Bebe, Red, Nicole, and Heidi were the most supportive girl group ever. While the last three were shocked at the news, their opinions of you didn't change. They still loved you and had your back. Especially when Cartman or anyone else tried to talk bad.

And then the day finally came.

As you lay on the hospital bed sweating, screaming, and crying in pain; Kyle held your hand through it all. He may have almost passed out a few times, but he stayed strong for those 27 hours of labor.

Your son was born first, then your daughter followed 10 minutes later.

(S/N) and (D/N) Broflovski.

All of the fears, anxiety, and uncertainty Kyle had vanished as soon as he held them in his arms. It wasn't until this moment that he understood why parent's cried after seeing their kids for the first time. They were beautiful and precious and...his.

As he watched your tired frame cradle them in both arms, he felt nothing but love and adoration. He was going to do all he could to protect and care for his family.

And when you both turned 18, he was going to marry you and spend the rest of his days with the woman who blessed his life.

~Fin~

#south park #south park x reader #sp style #kyle broflovski #kyle x reader #south park fanfiction #south park oneshot #teen pregnancy

[glimzsparkle]

How Did The Writers Look For An Excuse To Ruin Glimmadora So They Could Make Catradora Canon?

"And how exactly they caused the toxic distribution by splitting the SPOP community into two as Glimmer and Catra haters?"

First of all, this isn’t a Catradora hate thread. I love both Glimmadora & Catradora. With that being said, if you’re still gonna be butthurt about this, you are free to go fuck yourself.

As people love to claim that Glimmer turned toxic and even evil according to some people, let’s start with how they have no reason to think so.

Glimmer may have been uncharasterically aggressive in season 4 due to grief. But remember; she’s the sweet sparkly princess who’d take a bullet for her friends and we all know it.

For all her life she’s lived under Angella’s concern as the queen was so scared of losing her daughter, just like she’s lost Micah too.

With Angella always holding Glimmer back and not letting her learn anything.

She’s preventing her to engage in battles, which causes her to lack war knowledge and forces her to be a princess who stays at the back rows like a coward unlike her character.

Glimmer perhaps doesn’t think that she’s fit to be a soldier let alone be a queen.

Angella prevented her from her true potential. Glimmer is a soldier who tries to learn how to be a commander, a good friend, and a good daughter all at the same time.

After Adora’s arrival, Angella lets her out of the cage but only slightly, just because she’s sure that Adora as She-Ra will take care of her daughter.

Angella even threatens Adora.

Glimmer is held back up until the end of S1.

Before she knows it, she gets the queen title but it’s nothing like she expected. Her mother didn’t resign; she died, and that leaves Glimmer with no choice but to become the queen.

Glimmer is too young and inexperienced for that. A few war experience and engaging in small battlefields did not feed her knowledge enough for diplomacy.

She is not ready. Not even ready to make a simple decision her aunt gushes about. She needs to mourn. She needs to cry first.

That adds a heavy burden on Glimmer’s shoulders. Before she could even mourn her mother, a huge kingdom is entrusted to her and people are expecting her to protect them, also she has to keep the Rebellion in line.

And the fact that Glimmer and Angella argued in their last conversation and she couldn't say sorry before she died; there’s also a guilty conscience within Glimmer.

So she is tense; sad and angry all the time but keeps it all inside until she can't take it anymore.

The best way to get rid of those feelings is to have them properly as it's meant to be. This is the healthy thing to do.

But she has no time to cry, no time to rage or mourn. Instead, Glimmer has to delay her feelings which only makes it worse. She isn't healing as she's supposed to. Instead, the suppressed feelings inside grow bigger, resulting in Glimmer being angrier.

(Adora defying Glimmer's orders)

Also, she is so insecure about being a queen since no one (not even Bow nor Adora) takes her seriously and treats her as a queen. Adds fuel to the fire.

These compressed feelings had to explode at some point, so the writers decide it would happen best with Glimmer raging upon Adora instead of Catra.

Has any of you noticed that Glimmer never blamed Catra for opening the portal that her mother was forever stuck in? Technically, Catra caused all of this.

Glimmer doesn’t seek revenge or doesn’t even say a word about her mother to Catra, not even when they’re fighting to the death above.

But somehow Glimmer snaps at Adora back then.

This scene is clearly forced. "The Rebellion is in a worse place than ever since you've showed up."

Come on.

Is it really something Glimmer would say? To ADORA? To her best friend who did a painful teleport in order to save Adora from Shadow Weaver? You should have done better than that, writers.

Glimmer yells at Adora and blames her for her mother’s loss. She is aware that it was wrong to take it out on her best friend, so she immediately attempts to fix her mistake.

Unlike Catra, it takes her only a moment to realize it was wrong and she wants to apologize.

Just when she’s about to make things right, Mermista interrupts it mid-way. Their friends are in danger and they have to delay their feelings aside if they want to save them. As I said before, it just makes things worse.

YET, Glimmer tries to make it up to her once again after they save the boys but this time Adora thinks Glimmer blames her for Angella’s death and refuses to listen to her.

Already upset due to many things I listed above before, Glimmer refuses to try to make things right when Adora doesn’t listen. That’s what ends their romance path completely.

Let's go back to the beginning because some people unbelievably find that Glimmer toxic too.

In S1, Glimmer behaves aggressively toward Adora because she is from the Horde –the syndicate that killed her father– which is a logical thing to do. But she realizes Adora is not really one of them with her pure heart and desire to save everyone to make a better world.

Over time they get intimately close. They share physical touches and they support/protect each other all the time.

That scene in the Mystcor proves they are not only friends. They feel safe around each other. Adora trusts Glimmer enough to relax by her side.

When Glimmer is captured, Adora saves everyone and surrenders herself in order to save her, not really caring about what would happen to her despite she knows what Shadow Weaver is capable of. It didn’t matter as long as Glimmer was safe.

And Glimmer knows Shadow Weaver’s magic could bring critical damage to her if she tried to teleport through it. She might lose her powers or get harmed badly.

But she does it without hesitation when it comes to saving Adora.

She risks everything for her, she goes through a massive pain trying to teleport. Because if Shadow Weaver succeeds, Adora won’t remember anything about them. About her.

As painful as it is, Glimmer even sheds a tear thinking about that possibility before breaking through.

With all that being said, I want people who claim Glimmadora was toxic just because Glimmer broke Adora’s heart for once –which she immediately wanted to apologize about– to just think about it as a whole.

The first thing Glimmer does when she reunites with Bow and Adora; she apologizes for everything she said and has done.

How is that toxic for you when Glimmer agrees to save Catra despite she is the one who caused her mother to vanish?

The writers have been so unfair to Glimmer for portraying her as a second antagonist. They wanted Catradora canon which is fine but it wasn't the proper way to star Catra's redemption while shading another character.

Especially one of the main characters like Glimmer who has been nothing but a good, protective and understanding friend.

I’m addressing the toxic people in the fandom: Say Glimmer is toxic, but what is Catra if anything but not toxic? For 4 seasons straight, Catra hurt everyone including Scorpia, Lonnie, and Glimmer besides harming Adora both mentally and physically. Be fair.

Just because you’re gonna show everyone that you like Catradora, you don’t have to talk bad about the other ship and vice versa. I don’t understand why people feel the need of criticizing one ship negatively and spreading pure hate when they like the other ship.

Be fair, be logical, let people enjoy things. Thanks for coming to my TEDx talk.

Farewell, fellars.

#spop #shera #she ra #glimmadora #glimmer #adora #glitra #adora x glimmer

[sawtastic-sideblog]

'Dear Lawrence,

You're back.

You are back.

You're here.

You were in my room. Reading my letters to you. The ones that told you everything I've felt since waking up in that bathroom eight hundred and fifty one days ago.

It's been three days since I told you to get out. Since I last ate, slept, or showered. Since John told you to give me my space."

Adam closes his journal and turns in his chair as someone jiggles his doorknob. A few moments later the door opens, letting Mark in. He is quick to close and lock the door before walking over to sit on the edge of Adam's bed.

"Listen, uh, I don't know how you feel. Someone you obviously care about is back from the dead. I'm sure it's confusing, but it could be a good thing. At least he's not a zombie," Mark cracks. Adam smiles a little and meets Mark's eyes. Mark can tell that Adam's mind is swirling with all kinds of emotions. "I lost my sister, Angela, a few years back. Her boyfriend killed her. I would give anything to have her back. I'm not trying to tell you what to do or how to feel, but at least consider talking to Gordon. He's not really showing it, but he's a mess."

Adam nods and for the first time ever, he speaks to Mark.

"What would I even say?"

Mark's eyebrows gives away his surprise as the younger man's voice. He sits quiet for a moment.

"I don't know."

"What would you tell your sister?"

"That I love her and that I'm sorry for what happened to her. That I'd protect her with my life. I'd do what ever it takes to keep her safe. I'd also talk to her like a day had never passed. Catch her up on my life."

"You think she'd be okay with you working for John Kramer, the Jigsaw Killer?"

"Oh, absolutely not, I'd leave this all in a heartbeat, if it meant just one more day with Angela."

Adam nods, smiling slightly at the thought of a happier Mark. Taking walks in the park, having lunch at a diner, and spending a rainy day in playing board games or watching movies, all with his sister. Adam wonders what his life would've been like if John didn't find him.

"Do you think we would've been friends? Like outside of all this?"

"You think we're friends now?"

"I'd like to think so. Now, anyway."

"If it makes you feel better, Adam, then yes, we would've been friends outside of all of this."

Adam chuckles and looks up at the window at the very top of his wall. The sun is setting and it's casting a pinkish hue into the room. His eyes follow to where the pink meets the the harsh yellow glow of the lamp. He looks back to Mark, who had been watching him carefully.

"I'm scared."

"I know. And it's okay. Go at your own pace. And, please, don't do anything to hurt yourself. Physically or otherwise. I can stand you far more than I can Amanda."

"Am I that tolerable? The one who doesn't talk."

"Well, yeah because you don't annoy me with a million questions. And you take better pictures."

"Thank you, Mark."

"Yeah, no problem. Tell Amanda anything and I'll fucking kill you."

"Of course. Don't tell Lawrence?"

"Would never dream of it."

Mark stands to leave as Adam's stomach growls loudly. Mark looks at him, makes a gesture to say 'follow me,' and starts walking for the door. Adam stands and follows Mark, making sure to lock his room behind him. The two walk through the workshop where Amanda is working on something as John and Lawrence stand watching her.

"Adam and I are heading out. If you want anything text me or get it yourself," Mark says as he opens the door to the garage. Adam can feel all three sets of eyes on him. He turns to look at them. Amanda seems neutral, John seems pleased that Adam has actually left his room, and Lawrence looks guilty. Theres a glimmer in his eyes. Is it hope? Adam tears his eyes from Lawrence and steps into the garage after Mark. Adam climbs into the passenger seat of the car he and Mark used three days before.

"He looks so guilty."

"If we're talking about Lawrence, yes, but he also looked hopeful," Mark responds as he backs out of the garage. Adam is silent for the drive to burger place. Mark uses the drive thru then drives them to the lake. Mark parks the car and gets out to sit on the hood. Adam sits beside Mark, looking out over the lake.

"Why would he have hope in me?"

"Maybe that you'd forgive him. Or talk to him at the very least."

"Forgive him? For what?"

"Leaving you in the bathroom. Faking his death. I don't know."

"I forgave him for the bathroom thing. He read my journal. He knows that."

"What about the whole not telling you he's alive thing."

"I don't know. I'm sure he has a reason. It's not like he owes me an explanation. We're not even friends."

"Yeah, but he made you a promise that he'd come back for you. He never did. You assumed he was dead and he suddenly shows up now? He owes you every explanation because he left you for dead."

Adam goes silent again. Thinking about everything that's been happening. The two finish their dinner in silence, watching the sun go down across the lake. They driveback to the warehouse once the sun has gone down.

Amanda is waiting in th garage with some gear and points at Mark when he pulls in.

"Guess that's my cue," Mark says.

"Guess so. Thanks for today, Mark. I really needed it."

"I know. Think about what we talked about, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight. Try not to kill her."

"I'll do my best. Goodnight, Adam," Mark says as Adam opens th car door.

"So, you're talking now?" Amanda asks. Adam just stares. "Oh, I get it. You'll talk to him, but not me. Real mature, Adam."

"Come on, Amanda, stop picking on him. He's having a rough day," Mark calls from the car.

"A rough day? Well, I'm having a rough life!"

"This isn't a pissing contest. Let's go," Mark tries to call again.

"Not until he talks to me," Amanda says, turning on her heel to look at Adam. "Got nothing to say, huh?"

Adam just turns and walks tonthe garage door. He takes a deep breath as he hears the car door shut. Another deep breath and he turns the doorknob. Nobody in the workshop. He walks to the kitchen and takes one more dee breath. As Adam steps over the threshold, the conversation stops. John and Lawrence look over.

"How are you feeling today, Adam?" John asks as he stands. Not finding his voice he just holds his hand out flat and shakes it, showing he's okay but not great.

"Have you eaten today?" Lawrence asks, concern filling his blue eyes. Adam refuses to look at him and is hesitant to nod. "Good."

"Sit down, son. You two have a lot to talk about," John says, placing a cup of coffee on the table. Adam does so and John bids the two men goodnight. Neither want to be the first to speak, but Lawrence bites the bullet.

"I'm glad to see you're doing well."

Adam says nothing. He only stares into his coffee.

"I'm sorry for everything. Not coming back. Not telling you that I was alive. Invading your privacy and reading your journals."

Again Adam says nothing. He just looks up at Lawrence.

"You're hurt. I know that and I'll give you your space, but know that I am here to stay this time. We can be friends, coworkers, enemies, acquaintances, whatever you want. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Adam stands with his coffee and retreats to his room, leaving behind Lawrence and his tear filled eyes.

Sitting back at the desk, Adam opens his journal once again.

"It's been a few hours and I've had a good conversation with Mark and you tried to talk to me. I have things I want to say, buti couldn't find the words. I know what I have to do because I want to keep you in my life, Lawrence.

I know I'm forgiven. You are too. We can be better together.

-Adam"

Adam turns to a new page and carefully rips it out. He downs half the coffee for courage and starts writing.

"Dear Lawrence,

I was paid to start following you and at first, I hated it. I hated you. You were a cheater. My mom cheated on my dad and I saw how bad that messed him up, so I felt bad for Allison. As I continued to follow you, I started to hate it less and less.

You slowly became tolerable and then I found myself craving the chase of staying near, but out of your sight. I learned so much about you. Where you liked to get lunch, your favorite coffee shop, and even your dry cleaner. All of that is something you could tell anyone. I saw more to you. They way your eyes would shine with satisfaction and guilt after you met for your affair, the way you would ruffle your hair after a long shift, and they way your eyes would scan your papers while never reading anything.

Then I woke up in the bathroom.

I saw you.

I knew that we were both in trouble. I wanted to admit everything, but I told you I was following you. You weren't happy.

You know what happened in the bathroom so, I'll skip to the part where you leave.

When you left, John got up and walked out. After a while, the adrenaline wore off and I was in so much pain. I passed out. Amanda tried to suffocate me, John came back for me, he nursed me back to health, and somehow convinced me to stay and work for him.

I was still broken. I never talked to anyone. Only you in whispers when I was alone. I am still broken.

But now you're here. I think I can put the pieces together if you're around. Even if you don't feel the way I feel about you. Which brings me to my next point.

I had a crush on you. When you left me there, in the bathroom, I felt my heart shatter and my stomach was shredded. I realized sitting there, before I passed out, I was in love. I was confused, scared, and embarrassed.

Falling for a man I was paid to follow. A man I was stuck in a Jigsaw Killer trap with. The man that left me for dead.

I know he didn't mean to, though.

I still loved him.

He came back.

You came back.

All those feelings came crashing down on me.

That's why I pushed you away. That's why I locked you out. And, now, thanks to Mark, that's why I'm writing you this letter. The only one I will allow you to read. For now.

So, Lawrence, this is my confession to you.

I forgive you.

I missed you.

I love you.

You said we can be whatever I want. I don't care as long as you're here.

Yours forever,

Adam"

Adam looks at the pile of crumpled paper and then his watch. It took him almost ten hours to actually write the letter. At some point, to get clarity, he showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth.

Folding the letter, Adam strides down the hall and into the kitchen. He looks around, only finding John.

"He's gone out," John says. Adam walks over and grabs the sandwich John was making. John watches as Adam takes a bite. "I guess I'll make another."

"Stress eating?" Mark asks from his spot at the table. Adam nods.

"I'm telling him."

"Good to hear your voice," John says. Adam nods as he rips off a bit of the sandwich and shoves it in his mouth. The three stay in a comfortable silence for a while. Lawrence and Amanda walk through the door, carrying groceries.

"A little help, please, Mark," Amanda says as she slams bags down in front of Mark. He rolls his eyes and stands to help. Adam takes bags from Lawrence and helps put away groceries.

With a deep breath, Adam shoves the letter into Lawrence's hand and runs out the door to the garage. He grabs the first set of keys he sees and runs to John's car.

He drives back to the lake that Mark took him to the day before. He finds a walking trail and follows it into the woods. He finds himself on the other side of the lake a few hours later. He keeps walking, taking in the sights and beauty of the lake and the nature around it.

Anxiety eats away at him as he walks. He's not sure how long he walks, but the sun is going down by the time he gets back to his car. He takes his time getting back home, even stopping to get pizza for everyone. He walks into the kitchen and sets the pizzas down. Mark, Amanda, and John followed him into the kitchen.

"Gordon, pizza's here!" Mark yells down the hallway. Lawrence walks into the room. His shirt is disheveled, his hair is a mess, his eyes are almost glazed over, and he seems to be on autopilot. Everyone sits around the table and takes some pizza.

"Have you guys ever walked the walking trail around the lake?" Adam ask.

"Nope," Mark says around his food.

"Is it pretty?" Amanda asks.

"Yeah, it's gorgeous. I think you'd like it, Amanda. John, you'd appreciate it."

"Is that where you were all day?" John asks. Adam nods.

"Yeah, I needed to think. A lot on my mind."

"Is there a place for a picnic?" Amanda asks.

"Yeah, there's a little clearing in the woods. It has a gazebo. Gazebos are cool. And there's, like, flowers and vines going up the railing. It's very pretty."

"That sounds so cute. Wanna go tomorrow?"

"Sure, we can make a day of it and just chill out."

"Yes, let's go! I need a chill day," Amanda says. The two make plans as they finish dinner. Afterwards, Adam walks back to his room and lays back on his bed. Exhaustion washes over him and he tries to sleep, but can't. He grabs his copy of 'The Old Man and the Sea.'

A couple hours later, Adam is dozing off while reading. Through the brain fog of sleep, he can hear his door open, close, and the door lock. Thinking it must be in his head, he keeps his eyes closed. A sudden weight is over him. His eyes crack open to see Lawrence hovering over him.

"Hello, can I help you?" Adam asks groggily.

"Yes," Lawrence says.

"With what?"

"This letter I got today. I need help deciphering," Lawrence says and rolls over onto his back beside Adam. Adam rolls over to his side to look at Lawrence, but his eyes are heavy with sleep.

"What about it?"

"Well, this guy told me he loved me."

"Okay? You need my help why?" Adam asks and closes his eyes.

"Because, I think I love him too."

"Lucky guy."

"Yeah. Should I kiss him."

"I think you should let him sleep. He's had a big emotional day. He's very tired."

"Fair enough," Lawrence says. He kisses Adam's head and pulls him close. Adam cuddles closer and drifts off in Lawrence's arms.

#this kept going for some reason #welp heres part 4 #this isnt really edited because im lazy #saw 2004 #saw franchise #adam stanheight #lawrence gordon #amanda young #john kramer #mark hoffman #saw fanfic

[ducks-and-stuff]

I made this snippet of writing for a Jimmy fic but I lost motivation for it but I like the intro so I’m posting it here now

It is cold. 

People may think you a fool for many things, but you know that much at least. That today marks the end of the world and  you are cold in a way your puffy overcoat and earmuffs cannot fix. 

You also know that It is Christmas day and that you are huddled into Pearl and trying to forget that there are two of you when there are supposed to be three. But the forgetting does not work, nor has it ever, and so there are two of you when there are supposed to be  and there is a note from your best friend stuffed in your back pocket and it is Christmas and the Watchers do not care.

To be fair, though nothing ever is when it comes to your server, the Watchers aren’t exactly known for caring. They rip and tear anything they happen to sink their claws into and today, dear Listener, today you are fresh meat.

Pearl is silent as you think about all this, which is fitting. You attended your aunt’s funeral once when you were seven, and people didn’t talk much then either. It was an old church with wooden support beams and a stain glass window looming over the alter. The one you had only been to once before because of the free food at that one potluck. You had licked your fingers clean and raced across the pews with kids from your side of town until some official looking man came in and yelled at you. But today is a funeral and all you can focus on is how the dust dances where the light streams in through that one stain glass window, and now you will never see that church or light or dust again. Most people cry now, with the understanding that their energy would be best used on tears. But Pearl doesn’t cry, and you don’t either. 

Instead you say, 

“I’m scared”

and Pearl lets out a wet, humorless laugh and says

“No shit Jimmy”

And then she startles and looks away guilty, because maybe she doesn’t want those to be their final words to each other. Maybe she wants it be something poetic, something that gives you both a small glimmer of hope even when you could easily look around and see that your world  has already started cracking and hope is not some sort of glue that will magically fix it all. 

Pearl opens her mouth. 

Maybe she will say something heroic. Or Something bitter yet sweet. Something that will make you smile just a little bit, and she will smile back, and for a moment, the world will be just a little less cold.  

Pearl closes her mouth. 

You had gifted her thirty-two diamonds  earlier today, because when you woke up it was Christmas and not the day that you would die, and you had thought she would get the chance to use them. 

Today is the day you will die. 

Maybe if you repeat it enough the words will lose their meaning. 

They’re here. 

Something in your ear whispers. 

And you swallow down whatever lump has made itself known in your throat and curl into Pearl just a little more. As if that can stop what happens next. But you’re a fool for many things and you have love and you have hope but they do not give way to salvation. Instead, something in you loosens, and you are reminded that this is not how this game works. 

You cry out because it hurts. You had hoped this part would be painless but it isn’t and it’s searing and it’s all-encompassing and Pearl is holding onto you even if you’ve tried this already and you both know it’s not going to work. 

You’re pulled. 

You’re pulled away and Pearl digs her fingernails into your forearm and tries to pull you right back, because Pearl is not just scared and mad and angry and confused, she is also, between all that, a very kind person who doesn’t want her friend to die. 

Or alternatively, maybe she just doesn’t think you get the right to leave her here alone in this wretched world. 

But regardless of her reasoning in this moment, Pearl has always been a really nice person even when she could have easily been a jerk, and Jimmy wishes he had had the chance to tell her that before this moment.

“Jimmy!”

And in the distance he sees the walls and the mini-game and the campfire crack into a million pieces.

“Jimmy!”

And the name is broken and full of pain. 

“Jimmy!”

But her hands are slipping and you are already unraveling and Jimmy bolts upright and screams his sister’s name one final time as he’s dragged away and that, dear reader, is the story of how Joel got a black eye. 

#the fic was going to be titled “Jimmy and the Importance of Saying Goodbye” and I loved it #Both the title and the fic itself #But losing motivation is stronger than me #Jimmy solidarity #pearlescentmoon #evo smp #The fic was gonna be about Jimmy recounting his past after Empires is destroyed and how similar that situation is to Evo #Anyways #Go listen to “Everything Looks Better in Hindsight” by the Wild Reeds #That song is so good #Jimmy #Jimmy and the Importance of Saying Goodbye

[cassandrattpd]

even though 1989 is my least favorite album, it came out when @damn-its7am and i lived together. right after i graduated from college, moved out of my parents' house, and across the country from arizona to illinois. most of my distinct memories of listening to it are during winter driving (which was traumatic at first for someone who learned to drive in phoenix) and that is why it will always be a winter album to me.

a lot of feelings 1989tv is digging up under the cut

and that entire period in my life is......fraught. i was finally free (somewhat) of the weight and trauma of living at home that i had desperately been hoping to escape for so long. i was with my best friend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was happy and excited but also struggling with mental illness the likes of which i wouldn't even begin to get a grasp on until years later when i was diagnosed with bpd. it somehow felt like finally getting to have positive experiences more often made those negative feelings sting a thousand times worse. i couldn't find a job for six months!!!! i felt like a failure. and when i finally did (when haylie got me a job, really) then i had to contend with having a real life job for the first time!!!!! but i had someone i was excited to come home to and who loved me and who i felt like i could finally be a real person with. then i had to contend with the extreme jealousy that came with her good and healthy traits of: having other friends, happening to be falling in love at the same time, having school AND a job to be focusing on instead of spending time with me (please note: i know these are NOT rational things to experience jealousy over, it was the undiagnosed and untreated bpd, we have since discussed this period in our lives and are better for it, i feel very grateful to have a friend who has empathy for my mental health struggles 💖, but i am feeling weirdly emotional about 1989 right now, thus it is being aired out in this post lmao - if you experience these kind of extreme emotions over your relationships like.......seek help, not being facetious, i say this with love and empathy) (also note, said person she was falling in love with is now her husband and we love him, we always have, a very rare good man - he was never the problem) (he and i also have in common that we can do a smashing dennis quaid impression)

i was also contending with like.....the fact that my mom was dying......and that i just left. and i was mad at her. and i felt so guilty. but i also didn't want to talk to her bc her brain was so messed up that she wasn't even really my mom anymore. and maybe it wasn't even that i was mad at her, maybe it was that it was too painful to answer the phone and try to carry on a conversation with someone who couldn't string two lucid thoughts together. but looking back on it now, the lucid thought WAS just im sick and im scared and i don't know what's going on and i want to talk to my baby and to this day that stills eats away at me and makes me feel physically ill with hatred for myself.

it felt like i was in a freefall and still to this day i don't know if it was a good or a bad thing, but probably both. at least i jumped, at least i did something with my life and that was better than the stagnation and depression i was in before. i was suicidal and i had more anxiety than i had ever had in my life......but it also kinda finally felt like there were glimmers of hope. and the everyday of my life, when i wasn't living in my emotions, was good. I know the way im talking about it sounds so terrible but i look back on this time with such nostalgia as well. and it really was a first step toward a healing journey that im probably going to be on my entire life. it just feels like SO critical and crucial to who i am as a person - and 1989 was the soundtrack over all of it.

i think that is why i am just so in love with the tv cover and her smile and it being the FIRST album she's smiling on. she's reclaiming that time in her life with a breath of freedom and peace and looking back on it happy and triumphant and PROUD of herself.

fuck yeah. you did that. me too.

[fatale-distraction]

Happy Friday!! For dadwc, how about "with you by my side, I feel like I can do anything" for Krem and a person of your choice! 💕

Some Kremquisitor for @dadrunkwriting on this fine evening! Hope you enjoy the start of an idea I've been tossing around for a bit.

***

"Are you sure about this?" Ellana's large violet eyes tracked Krem relentlessly as he paced back and forth across his small room, packing and unpacking bags that should have been prepare hours ago. He didn't even have that many personal belongings. He was stalling, and he knew it, and he kept doing it anyway.

"Nope," he replied, stuffing a now quite wrinkled dress shirt back into a drawer. What did he need his fancy Inquisition reds for anyway? They weren't going to some fancy ball like at Halamshiral.

But what if they did end up going somewhere nice? He grabbed the shirt and stuffed it back in his pack.

Ellana put her chin in her hands, elbows propped on her knees as she slouched on the bed, still watching him with concern on her face. She'd been packed and ready to go for days, which was unusual for her. Typically she was a last-minute kind of packer, but this particular excursion had her very nervous. It was the furthest she'd ever traveled in her life, further than anyone in her clan had even gone, with the exception of one person, and he had never returned.

"I know you're worried," she started as Krem rearranged one of his bags unnecessarily. "But the Chargers and I are going to be there for you the whole time. Even if she doesn't want to see you--"

"I'm not worried about her," Krem threw his arms up, then scrubbed his hands over his face with a frustrated groan. "I'm worried about you!"

Ellana straightened at this, eyes widening. "Me? I'm not the one meeting my estranged mother for the first time in almost ten years!"

The mercenary scratched the side of his head, eyes scrunched up. "I know, I know. Believe me, I'm fucking terrified of that. I don't even know why I want to go. I'm still not sure I do. But we're going to be close by for a job, so...I might as well, I guess?

"But El, I...I don't want you to go with me," he admitted with a guilty cringe.

The Inquisitor crossed her arms over her chest, wood and metal from her prosthetic creaking. "I'm going. Try and leave me behind, see what happens. I'll track you assholes down and let Sera sic her bees on you."

"It's dangerous," insisted Krem. "Tevinter is no place for any elf, but especially a Dalish one, and especially the Inquisitor."

She gave him a sober look that hurt his heart to see on her normally cheerful face. "I know that, Krem. Probably better than most. You know what happened to my mums, and my father." She turned her gaze away, tears glimmering in her eyes. "They sent us back their vallaslin," she choked.

He sat next to her on the bed, the straw mattress sinking beneath them, and pulled her close. A stray red curl tickled his nose and he brushed her long hair back from her face. "I know. And I know you're coming because it's not any safer for me. Tevinter doesn't much appreciate military deserters. Or fraud. 'Least when it's Soporati committing it." Krem rubbed his hand over her shoulder, cheek pressed to the top of her head. She smelled like lavender and vanilla, sweet, floral, and a bit peppery. Fitting, he thought laughing a little to himself.

"They'll have to get through me," she reminded him, cracking a knuckle with her thumb. "So will your mum, if she has anything nasty to say. I don't care if she's your mother, I'll hit her, Krem, I swear it."

"I know," he laughed. "That's why I'm bringing you. Even if it scares me." He pressed a long, loving kiss to her temple. "With you by my side, I feel like I can take on anything. Even this."

#kremquisitor #cremisius aclassi #ellanasha lavellan #writing down fatalities #dragon age #krem #da drunk writing circle

[pochipop]

had this idea for sooo long & i think ur the perfect person to bring it to life (especially w bakugo bc you write him so well, like it's insane, your portrayl of his him is always spot on) ,,, anyhow, thank u sm if you do this!! ,,, (pro hero au) bakugo, aizawa, hawks, fatgum, and amajiki reacting to/tending to their s/o after them being hurt on the job?

＃ BNHA !! ♡ — REACTING TO AN INJURED LOVER.

#. synopsis! — a mission doesn't quite go as planned .

#. characters! — bakugo, aizawa, keigo (hawks), taishiro (fatgum), amajiki .

#. warnings! — mentions of injuries .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

＃ BAKUGO !! ♡

Bakugo forces his way through the crowd, shoulders pushing against strangers in order to reach your side. In typical fashion, you could hear him coming from a mile away, scolding people, demanding they get out of his way or inform him of your location amongst the medical staff on site. You stifle a laugh, knowing now isn't exactly the time to be giggling under your breath at his antics, ―and even more so, you're not sure your ribs would take kindly to the vibrations. When his eyes meet yours, there's an equal mixture of elation and dread that swims through your veins. . . He's mad, and you knew that much before he's reached you, but there's a spark of intense worry glimmering behind the scarlet of his irises, and you feel guilty for being the cause of it.

"You dumbass!" He yells, but his gaze betrays him almost as harshly as his actions, ―hot hands reaching out to poke and prod at your skin in a surprisingly gentle manner, "how many times have I told you not to go off on your own?"

It's hard to meet his eyes when they brim with so much unadulterated intensity. His emotions are raw, and he wears the anger on his sleeves, but this is so much more than simple aggravation. He's disappointed, in himself more than you or anyone else, for not being there, ―for not being able to protect you as he's always promised he would.

"I did what I had to do," you insist, "there wasn't time to get help. If I'd hesitated, those people would have lost their lives."

You're right, and Bakugo knows it, but that makes him all the more frustrated.

"What did the medics say?" He questions, hands trailing to your face as he tilts your head from side to side, assessing the damage.

He may be obnoxious and rude, hot-headed unlike any other, ―but he burns for you like a well-kept campfire; tempered and controlled.

"No major injuries," you assure him, "just some cuts and scrapes, and maybe some bruised ribs. Nothing that won't heal itself naturally if I give it some time and get rest."

He doesn't even bother to hide the sigh of relief that passes through his lips. The hands on your cheeks steady the lolling of your head to the mercy in the warmth of his palms before dropping to your shoulders. His grip is gentler than you've ever known it to be, ―as if he thinks you're made of porcelain and he's scared you'll shatter into pieces at his feet.

"If you ever do that again, I'll kill you myself," he mumbles out an empty threat, eyes softening now that he knows you're going to be okay.

You crack a smile and reach up, four fingers wrapping around his thumb. It's the first time he's never edged your hand away in a feign of disgust, embarrassed that people might see him and notice the deep-rooted love he has for you. He crouches before you, pulling your hand with him, sparing a few glances at the people around him, ―as if making sure they're not staring at him, at this vulnerable state he's found himself in at your liberty. Somehow, you manage to stop yourself from threading your fingers through his hair. You mumble an apology to him for scaring him, for making him worry about you. Bakugo doesn't have the strength to deny either. He lets out another heavy sigh.

"Come on," he beckons, "leave the civilians to the others and the medics to the injured. I can deal with your wounds at home."

＃ AIZAWA !! ♡

Aizawa hasn't been this scared in heaven knows how long. You're not one to act irrationally, not one to take risks if you've yet to calculate their rate of success, ―but today, things had gone south so fast that none of the pros had time to rethink, regroup, or restrategize. What you did was necessary, and Aizawa dares to think that's the reason it pains him so badly to see you like this, the beginning stages of hefty bruises littering your face and upper torso, cuts snaking up your arms and down to your hands where your purple knuckles stare up at him woefully.

"Scale of one to ten?" He asks, keeping his hands to himself for now.

He's uncertain as to whether or not his touch would do any good. The last thing Aizawa wants to do in this situation is exacerbate the injuries, ―make you feel any worse than you clearly already do.

"Five," you answer, though he can't help but to think you're downplaying it for his sake.

Even now, you're thinking more about him than yourself, and it makes him want to wrap his arms around you tight enough to meld his skin to yours, hard enough that he could sink into you and make everything feel okay.

"Don't give me that look," you force a smile onto your face, but the pull of your wounded cheeks makes it look more like a grimace than anything else, "it looks a lot worse than it feels, I promise."

It's an empty promise, but Aizawa could have told you that long before the words left your tongue.

"You did the right thing," he says as he takes a seat beside of you, sure to keep a few inches between your bodies, "as much as I hate saying that now. I look at you and I know you're hurting, and I. . . I wish I could make it all stop for you. But we both know you did what you had to do, ―what the rest of us couldn't do fast enough."

He hates that you're shouldering this pain alone. If his quirk were able to erase that for you, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But you already know that.

"Thank you," you say to him, so genuinely that it makes his heart clench, "that means a lot to me. Especially coming from you."

Aizawa feels so small next to you. You're the entirety of the righteous and moral world encapsulated into a human being, and he's. . . Something less than that, from his point of view, ―something so miniscule, and yet you look at him like he puts the stars in the sky above your head at night, and he wonders why, especially in moments like this.

He stares at you so longingly, as if there's a million things he wants to say, but hasn't a clue how. You don't press him on it, either. He seems to be taking your injuries harder than you are. . .

"I'm okay," you assure him, "I really am. All of this will heal. I just have to give it time."

"I know. I know. It's just hard to see you like this and not be able to do anything about it," he responds, eyes downcast in guilt, or even shame.

"I'll let you disinfect these cuts and make me dinner," you say, hoping to lighten the mood, "―how's that sound?"

Finally, he cracks a smile.

"Sounds good to me."

＃ KEIGO !! ♡

Keigo knows you. He knows you're so beyond capable of holding your own in any situation that comes your way, and he trusts you, ―trusts your abilities and your instincts to guide you. But he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't scared out of his mind when word of your accident and subsequent injuries found their way to him. He dropped everything all at once to race to your side like the world was ending on your behalf. You were no stranger to small cuts and miniscule bruises every now and again, but these were different, ―noticeably deeper and undoubtedly more painful. Your eyes look glazed to him, and it sends another shockwave of horror to his restless heart.

"You need stitches," he states firmly, "this wound on your head looks bad, and there's a lot of blood."

"You're a pro hero, Keigo, not a doctor," you joke with him, hoping to settle his obvious nerves.

It's the first time you've ever seen him so frazzled by something, especially in regards to you. He's calm and cool, known for his ability to act like nothing's wrong even when the world is crumbling, ―and yet now's the time when he loses it? Over a minor head injury?

"I've already been checked over, and it's nowhere near as bad as it looks to you. Head wounds tend to bleed more because the skin there carries more blood, and skin tends to be thicker along the scalp. I don't have a concussion, and honestly, it doesn't hurt all that bad. . . It's just a dull ache now," you elaborate.

Watching him as his eyes rake over every last inch of you, rapidly so, searching for injuries of any kind, is charming in one way, and hilarious in another. It's hard to believe this is the thing that's sending him off the deep end, despite him having more serious injuries than yours on a number of occasions. For what it's worth, you reach out to him and place a soft hand atop the crown of his head.

"Alright," he breathes out, a stillness tempering the air around him.

The static that once shot through him is toned down by the feeling of your touch, ―you really are fine, standing in front of him proudly, even with blood all in your hair and bruises littering your form. Keigo thinks for a moment that he's falling all over again.

"You have to rest after this, though," he tells you, "no complaining, no whining about going back to work for at least a few days. Understood?"

He knows that even if you agree to those terms now, you'll be arguing to throw you hat back in the ring by morning, ―it's just who you are, and he loves that, although he wishes you'd take better care of yourself.

"Understood," you tell him half-heartedly, just to appease him for the time being.

The rest of this can be discussed at home, in the comfort of your shared bedroom. You suspect he'll order takeout and bring it to you in bed since there's not any way in hell he's letting you cook dinner, and he certainly isn't capable of doing that himself. He's handy in many ways, but in the kitchen just isn't one of them. . . And that's okay.

"Let's go home now. I'll help you wash up, ―get that blood out of your hair before it matts up," he tells you.

"You have work to finish, don't you? Just go back, I'll take care of things and be waiting for you, I'll go straight to the apartment, I swear."

"Everyone already knows I'm not returning today," he scoffs, "you think I'd ever let someone as hard-headed as you go off on your own like this? You'd save a kitten from a tree, scold a kid stuffing candies into his pockets without paying, help an old woman cross the street, and help someone carry their groceries to their car before even thinking about taking some time for yourself, ―I know you."

You giggle, and it melts his heart. It feels so good to hear that from you after all of this. . . It's elating.

"Guilty," you acknowledge, "but just for this evening. You're going back to work tomorrow morning."

He most certainly is not.

＃ TAISHIRO !! ♡

Taishiro is scared out of his mind, but he knows better than to let you see that. It'll only make things worse if you see him shed any tears over this, ―you'll end up being the one comforting him, when it should be and needs to be the other way around.

You know he's worried for you, but don't mention it to him, even in hopes of putting an ease to his apprehension. It's best if you leave things be, speak when he speaks to you, answer his questions honestly, no downplaying the pain and no overplaying it either.

"Where does it hurt the most?" He inquires, golden eyes brimming with all the emotions you hate to see on him the most.

The way he cares is so evident and bold, like he's been waiting all his life to hold you, to have you, to keep you, and he's scared of anything taking you away. It burns boiling hot inside of him, the urge to keep you safe and healthy, happy and smiling, and now that you're here with this pained expression on your face, he feels like he's let you down. He's kicking himself for letting this happen, for being unable to act in your place. Taishiro would switch positions with you in a heartbeat if he could, ―he'd take every laceration just to see you smile at him and not have to search for a grimace behind it.

"Shoulder," you respond, "that's the only place it really hurts at all. The rest of it is just some little cuts, ―they stung at first, but it's mostly gone by now."

"Okay, that's good, then," he seems to sigh inwardly in relief, "―not good that you're in any pain, but good that it's a lot less damage than it could have been."

He didn't need the qualifier, you understood what he was saying without it, but it seems to widdle away at his tension to talk, let him hear your voice and get a response in return, so you leave it be.

"Right," you nod, eye scrunching up in discomfort when a shock of pain slits through your nerves. movements," he tells you quickly, "as soon as we get word that we can leave, I'll take you straight to the hospital to have them check you over."

"Right," you nod, eye scrunching up in discomfort when a shock of pain slits through your nerves. movements," he tells you quickly, "as soon as we get word that we can leave, I'll take you straight to the hospital to have them check you over."ght to the hospital to have them check you over."

"I don't think that's really necessary, it's just a muscle strain, Tai―"

You stop.

The look on his face is begging you to leave this be, to let him have this one thing that he can turn to in order to make ineffably sure that you're okay. You can't possibly say no when he's staring down at you like this, gaze pleading for you to just listen and go along with him. He needs to know that nothing more serious has happened, that there's no long-term damage or any underlying issues that need to be addressed.

"Just to be sure," he whispers, "please?"

Your lips purse into a thin line.

"Yeah, alright," you cave, "that's for the best anyway, I'm sure. . . Better to be safe rather than be sorry later on."

He nods, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are so warm against your skin, you almost purr at the feeling.

"Thank you," he leans down, pressing his lips to the spot on your forehead where his digit had ghosted.

Anything to put him at ease.

＃ AMAJIKI !! ♡

Amajiki panics. Jitters surge through his body, —he's just as beat up as you are, but his concern for his own wellbeing went out the window the moment he saw you crumpled on the ground. His heart pounds like a drum, far too loud for comfort, and he can feel his pulse in his ears. The sound of his own heavy footsteps against cement leaves him reeling. . .

"Y/n?" His voice shakes, your hero name all but lost on him in the moment.

To him, you're not a pro hero, you're not an injured savior, you're not just another variable in collateral damage. To Amajiki, you're the soft spot he falls towards when the going gets tough, the lap he rests his head on. You're the smile that keeps him pushing through, the person that's given him more self-confidence than he could ever imagine having. To him, you're the world in a person, the universe even, a full-fledged infinity, —and seeing you like this shakes the very foundation he's standing on.

"It's okay," you look up at him, indigo irises swimming with panic and worry.

Seeing him like this hurts just as bad as the wounds on your body. Those will heal with given time, but this mental image of him, the one you love so dearly, looking down on you with such a devastated expression. . . That will last much longer.

"It's not okay," he moves without thinking, regard for his own injuries thrown to the wind with reckless abandon.

"It will be, then," you give him a slightly strained, but no less genuine, smile.

Your hand touches his in a gingerly fashion, warmth spreading from your fingers to the very core of his heart.

"This is just part of the job," you tell him, "and we both know that. But I'm worried for you too, so I guess I shouldn't be giving you any lectures on this."

Amajiki wants to throw his arms around you and pull you in close, —so close that he'll feel your heartbeat against him, feel your pulse against his skin. He wants to breathe you in, wrap himself around you, let you do the same for him. It's not in the best interest of either of your bodies, not with all these bruises, cuts, and otherwise tender spots, but. . . The heart wants what it wants.

"I'm sorry," he offers you a shy smile, "I don't mean to make you worry for me."

"It's just natural," you shift slowly, arm coming around to hold your stomach in pain, offering some kind of stability for yourself, "worry comes with the territory when you care about someone."

You're right, and it warms his heart to know you feel the same, —to know that you feel equally as inclined to do everything in your power for him, just as he does for you.

"Let's take care of each other then," he offers in a small, almost embarrassed tone.

Who were you to turn down such a thing? And more importantly, —why would you ever want to?

#bakugo #katsuki bakugo #bakugou #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #tamaki amajiki #amajiki #bnha #bnha x you #amajiki x you #amajiki x reader #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha hawks #keigo tamaki #fatgum x reader #fatgum #fatgum x you #taishiro toyomitsu #taishiro x you #taishiro x reader #aizawa #aizawa x you #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #eraserhead x you #eraserhead #keigo x reader #keigo x you

[sgtduckybucky]

it's good to see you, dear boy

a/n: I've wanted to write this immediately after watching the movie all those months ago but never really had the chance to.

anyways, toby is my favorite spiderman and I love Otto a lot (he's like a dad to me) and I'm emotionally attached to him.

this is not proof read!

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“It didn’t work?” The man who claims that sorcery exists sighs in confused frustration as he glances down at his hands with furrowed eyebrows.

Peter isn’t sure what didn’t work exactly but casting a quick look at the sky, he doesn’t understand the floating man’s frustration. The sky isn’t purple anymore and New York doesn’t look distorted. Though, seeing as there are still three Peter Parkers and all kinds of villains around, he could see how the spell didn’t work.

Peter looks at the youngest Peter out of the three of them who looks dumbfounded but slightly relieved that the spell hadn’t worked. There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes and his lips are threatening to break into a smile.

Soft thuds to his left forces Peter to tear his eyes off of the high schoolers and turn his head to the source of sound. A ghost sensation of tenseness prickles at his skin but Peter quickly dismisses the feeling; reminding himself that the man before him isn’t who he once was. Not anymore.

“Otto.” Peter greets with a light call of the older man’s name and a gentle smile on his lips. The corner of his eyes wrinkle up, portraying just how much Peter has aged.

“I never really had the chance to apologize.” Doctor Octavius says, his eyebrows downturned and his lips frowning. “I just thought….” He sighs, “I was making the world a better place.”

It took Peter several years trying to understand Otto, his mentor and role model. He was guilty at first, for not being able to save him. Then he was angry at the fact that Otto became evil. It took him a long time to feel sympathetic for the man.

Peter was once in his shoes. His own uncle had died in his arms and all Peter thought of was revenge. That strong emotions ran in his blood streams which fueled his sense of false judgment to punish the man who killed his uncle. Peter would’ve ended up like Doctor Octavius had he not been consumed by guilt.

“It’s okay.” Peter offers gently, the smile still present in his lips and Otto shyly returns it albeit smaller.

There’s a moment of silence between them -save for Dr. Strange effortlessly tries to recast the spell to send everyone back to their own universe and for high school Peter’s friends to forget ever meeting him and learning about his secret identity.

“So, uh…How’s…” Doctor Octavius licks his suddenly dry lips nervously, his eyes briefly meeting Peter’s before quickly looking away. There’s a lump in his throat that’s preventing him from asking the question he’d been desperate to ask the second he had met Peter an hour before.

Peter knows what the doctor was trying to ask yet he doesn’t over him to help. This is something that Otto needed to do on his own so he patiently waited, his eyes never missing the way Otto heaves a shaky breath.

“How’s Y/N?” Otto sounds scared. Scared that Peter wouldn’t answer him about his daughter. Though, there’s a bit of hopefulness that Peter is just as kind as he was in his youth as he finally meets Peter’s eyes.

Peter’s smile brightens and his eyes glow with love; it's almost blinding.

“She’s good.” Peter replies. “We got married. It’s our fourteenth anniversary this year.”

If Otto feels overwhelmed to the point where his legs almost give out, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his breath hitches and his body quivers.

He is experiencing a storm of emotions. Although he is overjoyed that his daughter married someone who is not only responsible but also extremely kind. He is, however, upset that he couldn’t be alive to witness his own daughter’s wedding.

Otto’s train of thoughts is interrupted at Peter’s shuffling.

The eldest Spider-Man stands next to him and pulls out something from his suit that Otto honestly doesn’t want to know how it’s possible.

In Peter’s hand is a leather photo wallet that has seen better days. Otto knows that the wallet is cherished from the discoloration on the bottom corners.

“Would you like to see?” Peter offers the wallet, similar to a child who is offering to show his friend his well prized collection of Pokémon cards.

Otto is hesitant.

Is he even worthy of such a thing?

But the way Peter’s eyes softly encourages him to take a look at the photos, Otto accepts the offer and gently takes the wallet into his large hand.

The first picture is of Peter and his daughter Y/N on their wedding day.

They’re in a venue hall with pink and white flowers decorating the walls along with some yellow fiery lights. The newlyweds were embraced in a dance with Y/N’s smile so bright it practically radiates through the still shot. Peter’s eyes stare at her with so much love that Otto can actually feel it.

Otto flips to the next page to a picture of Y/N with a heavily round stomach, a hand resting on top. She’s smiling down at the baby in her stomach and that thick lump makes its way into his throat again. He quickly flips to the next page.

There’s Y/N and Peter in a hospital room. A sweaty Y/N is in the hospital bed with dried tears on her cheeks and the smallest infant Otto has ever seen in her hands. Peter is leaning in and kissing Y/N’s head passionately.

Otto has great difficulty swallowing to moisten his dry throat.

The picture on the next page is of a boy, ten years of age, with honey brown colored hair standing next to a homemade volcano with a proud grin on his face. There’s a golden sticker on the poster behind him that reads 1st place and Otto can’t help the smile that slowly stretches across his aged features.

“That was two years ago during his first science fair.” Peter explains as he flips to the next page.

In this picture, the boy is about two years older and his hair has grown out to reach just a few shy inches below his years. There are books and bread scattered around him as he stares into the camera with the same smile from the previous picture.

“This was just last month.” Peter states. “He’s researching on how to create cutlery and plates that are edible to help reduce waste.. He’s thinking of making them out of bread.”

A sense of pride swells within Otto. The fact that his grandson turns out to be a lover of the sciences like him and Peter yet a humanitarian like his own father fills him up with warmth.

“What's-” Otto’s tongue darts across his dried lips and he swallows thickly, “What’s his name?”

Peter looks up from the photo to stare at him with such intensity that Otto wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. He suddenly feels exposed, vulnerable.

“Otto.”

And the world stops around him before it disappears.

He is no longer in this alternate New York. No longer on earth. Just in this space that only him and Peter exist as the name echoes in his ears.

“Otto?”

Otto ignores how breathy his voice sounds and doesn’t notice the tears rapidly wetting his eyes. His lips quiver as he tries to smile but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up that they had named him after himself. Especially not after the horrible crimes he had committed under the chains of his own invention.

Peter nods affirmatively.

“Y/N and I both agreed that Otto is the perfect name for him, named after the greatest man I’ve ever met.” Peter’s lips curl upwards.

Otto couldn’t react in time to stop a stray tear sliding down his cheeks. So he throws his arms around Peter in a hug to hide his tears.

And Peter accepts the hug, returns it even, as it has been so long since he had last fully embraced the man. The man who he had once considered, probably still does, as his father figure.

Neither of them hear Doctor Strange’s cry of success as his hands glow a golden color nor the way their body turns into tiny little particles that are rapidly disappearing.

If the universe is kind, and if Doctor Strange has a heart, Otto wishes that he could return to his own timeline where he is alive and with his family.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tobey!peter parker #tobey!peter x reader

[writemekpop]

Bad Romance (Part 1) | Lee Taeyong

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Taeyong wants to fuck you, but you're not ready...

Genre: Angst, Smut, College AU 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Sexual Content, Toxic relationship 

Part 1 ⭐️| Part 2

Taeyong’s breaths were deafening in your ear. Couldn’t he try to control himself? For discretion, at least. You imagined every ear in your university dorm pricking up. Snickering. “I wonder what they’re up to.” 

Taeyong kissed you again, his hot lips colliding with yours.

His hand, ever so slightly rough, pushed up your shirt, sending goosebumps up your ribs. A moan sounded, deep in your throat, and Taeyong groaned in satisfaction. 

You felt instantly guilty. You’d told yourself your ancestors wouldn’t mind if you did this for him. But you’d promised not to enjoy it. 

Taeyong knotted one hand in your hair. You felt the other one slide up to your back to unclasp your bra. His hand dwarfed your back, sending sparks rippling up your shoulder blades. 

“Are you okay with this?” he murmured, voice husky. You nodded. It was a lie.

The truth was, you’d never had sex before. You’d barely even kissed a boy. 

When all your college friends were in the basement snogging boys, you would hover by the doorway, holding their drinks. When they began to tease you, you just pretended you couldn’t hear them. 

Even when everyone started saying you ‘batted for the other team’, it just felt like a relief. Maybe they’d finally leave you alone. 

You were a feminist. You fully believed that women weren’t shiny, unwrapped presents that had to be protected for marriage. But you were also a fake. 

Because the idea of sleeping with a stranger still made you feel sick inside. 

Well, Taeyong wasn’t a stranger; he was your boyfriend. So, you would just have to grit your teeth and get on with it. 

Taeyong’s hand slid down between you. You squeezed your eyes shut. It would be over in a minute; that’s what your friends were always joking about, right? 

Then, you heard the unmistakeable clink of his belt buckle. Suddenly, that was the most terrifying sound you’d ever heard.  

“W-wait,” you croaked. 

You clung onto Taeyong’s firm wrist. 

He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding under his papery-thin skin. You were sat on his lap – so you could feel how ready he was, and it frightened you. 

He would hate you for what you were about to say, you knew that. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

You rolled away from him, pulling your knees up and hugging them. Burying your wet eyes in your knees, you waited for Taeyong to leave. 

But you didn’t feel him get off the bed. 

Instead, there was absolute silence. A shiver ran down your spine. 

Then, his muscled arms were wrapping around you. Taeyong eased you till you were lying on the bed – fear closed in your throat – but he wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Instead, he helped you pull your T-shirt back on, and guided you so your head was resting on his chest.

You felt his thundering heartbeat slow to a steady, comforting pulse.

Taeyong pressed a kiss on your temple. For a second, your stomach curled; it was so fatherly. You mentally scolded yourself. Taeyong wasn’t like other guys. He was caring, and sensitive, and you should be grateful.  

“If you wanna go slow, let’s go slow. You’ll always be my girl,” Taeyong whispered.

So, you pushed down the niggling feeling that ‘always’ had an expiry date. It was time you learnt to trust someone, and Taeyong was the perfect person to let in.

---

Over the next few months, you tried your best to forget about that night. And it was easy enough – Taeyong was electrifying. 

You’d never met a man who could tell a Basquiat from a Banksy and didn’t even show off about it. 

Each night, after lectures, you’d sneak off to some gallery late opening, and take photos of each other for Instagram. 

Or, you’d just snuggle up in his dorm room and listen to him telling you all about his Art History course, or his dreams of starting his own gallery. 

You rarely spoke. You preferred to soak in his world, like a cat curled in the sun. And let’s face it – who wanted to talk about Maths, anyway? 

Taeyong was like a shooting star: totally uncontrollable, impossible to understand, yet hopelessly fascinating. You couldn’t believe why someone like him seemed to find you interesting. Or at least, worth spending every day with.  

---

The second time Taeyong scared you was a Saturday.

You were sitting in his lap, poring over one of his Art History books. Other than toying with a curl of your hair, or pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Taeyong was totally still.  

Sighing with pleasure, you flicked through the glossy pages – for the hundredth time. No wonder Taeyong would always say: If I wasn’t rubbish at Maths, we should’ve swapped courses.

Just then, you prised open a page you hadn’t seen before. You frowned. 

It was a scan of an old Japanese painting. In it, a wealthy couple were captured in a furious argument with a young woman, carrying a baby. It was entitled ‘Outside Wife’. 

You turned to Taeyong, finger on the title. “What’s that?” 

Taeyong lifted the book from your hands, then grinned. “It’s when a noble couple are forced to get married, but the man has another wife to, you know, satisfy his needs.” Taeyong chuckled dryly. “Unfortunately, that system isn’t available anymore.” 

You began to chuckle too… then your smile melted from your face. “What do you mean, unfortunately?” Goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

“Ah… it was just a joke. You know, we’re not exactly getting any.” Taeyong’s body still felt relaxed under you, but your muscles were tensing. 

“I thought you said you wanted to go slow…” you mumbled. 

Of course. You should’ve seen this coming. 

There was only so long a person could go without their needs fulfilled. And here you were, dragging your boyfriend down while he could sleep with any normal girl whenever he wanted. 

“I’m not ready yet, Taeyong.” You picked at the frayed wool of your jumper. 

Your throat closed as you prepared for what you would say next. “If you… need to sleep with someone else, I won’t blame you,” you whispered. Stupid, babyish tears were filling your eyes already. 

“Babe – it was just a joke! No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Taeyong laughed, and kissed your neck. 

When you still didn’t make a sound a moment later, Taeyong turned you around on his lap so you were facing him. Tears streaked freely down your cheeks – you couldn’t hide them. 

“Oh, baby….” Soft as a whisper, Taeyong placed his palm on your cheek and smoothed away the tears with his thumb. “I don’t care about your… problem. You’re my girlfriend, and what’s good enough for you’s good enough for me.” 

A small part of you hurt at the way he said problem, but you pushed that part away. You allowed him a small smile. 

Laughing, Taeyong pulled you into a bear hug. You’d never gripped his shoulder so tight. You were so lucky to have him. 

----

A few weeks later, Taeyong finally convinced you to accompany him to a house party. You knew what this meant. You’d been dating for four months – this was the ‘meeting his friends’ moment. 

All the time you were getting ready, your stomach had transformed into a pit of snakes. Excitement, anxiety, fear – they all wriggled and knotted about inside you. 

You chose a midnight-blue playsuit, in a glimmering velvet. When Taeyong pointed it out to you in the shop, you knew this what you’d be wearing. 

To be honest, you hated Taeyong’s friends. You were pretty sure Taeil had tried to sneak vodka into your coke, and Mark did nothing but yap on endlessly about his girlfriend in Canada. You were almost 100% sure she didn’t exist. 

But as soon as Taeyong’s mahogany eyes met yours across in the heaving living room, all your worries melted away like snow. All he had to do was raise one deep eyebrow, or pull his plump lips into a silly face, and you’d burst out laughing. 

Except, as the hours drew by, you realised you hadn’t seen Taeyong in a while. You were perched on the stairs, shivering next to everyone who was too zoned out to take part. 

“Taeyong?” 

Tip-toeing, you climbed up the stairs, calling his name. You pushed open each of the doors in the hallway, peeking through your fingers just in case anything funny was going on. 

But they were all empty. 

Just as you turned around to go back downstairs, you heard voices coming from the attic. Gingerly, you sneaked up. They grew louder, more defined. 

Pushing open the door just a crack, you heard:

“Really? My god.” 

Your heart jumped. You knew that rich, resounding tone better than your own voice. It was Taeyong. 

You considered climbing up to join them. But then, you heard something that stopped you in your tracks. 

“And the worst thing is, Irene thinks she’s some kind of sex goddess, but actually she’s awful. She just lies there like a limp doll, expecting me to do everything.” It was Doyoung speaking. 

There was a pause as they all laughed. 

Your heart was already twisting. Something about his tone felt… wrong. Like his girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate what he was saying. 

Then, you heard Taeyong say, “Mate, at least your girlfriend’s fucking you, even if she is awful at it. I haven’t got any for months!” 

Everyone in the group exclaimed in disbelief. You forgot how to breathe. 

“Yeah – I know. Y/n thinks she’s some kind of saint for “waiting for the perfect moment”. I mean, a guy’s got needs!” Taeyong’s voice was low, but to you he could have been screaming. 

Black spots were engulfing your vision. Gulping, you staggered backwards, out of the door. You didn’t want to hear what you heard next. You really didn’t want to.  

But you couldn’t help it. Not when Taeyong said, “You know, I don’t even feel bad about fucking Joy. I mean, I had no choice. If Y/n wasn’t so frigid, I wouldn’t need to. It’s her fault really.” 

That was it. 

You sprinted away. Pushing through the line of partygoers waiting to use the bathroom, you locked yourself inside.

Then, you curled up on the toilet seat and sobbed. 

It had finally happened. 

Your gorgeous boyfriend had finally realised that he was miles out of your league. He didn’t deserve the defect. He didn’t deserve the fake feminist who was too ashamed to admit how sexist she really was. 

Then, a thought entered your mind that make you perk up. 

Maybe you could pretend you’d never overheard Taeyong. Maybe you could go back to how you were before… Or maybe you could sleep with him and make him forget about all other girls. 

After all, you’d do anything to keep him. 

Anything.  

Read Part 2 here.

---

MASTERLIST

#taeyong #lee taeyong #neowritingsnet #NCT 127 #nct 2020 #NCT-WRITERS #taeyong fluff #taeyong angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #taeyong smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct scenarios #taeyong fanfiction #superm #superm smut #nct drabbles

[inkykeiji]

do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He’s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”  

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.  

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.  

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #dabi #todoroki touya #no of course i didn't get the brand idea from jackass #what are u talking about #this tomura is uhhhh v different from break my bones tomura #ehehe he's kinda soft but also rly disgusting??? #yucky yucky boi #i will DIE with that rich boy shig hc #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon/dubcon #tw branding #tw dacryphilia #tw degradation #tw cheating #tw toxic relationship

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. 

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader 

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series. 

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon. 

01 | 02 

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set. 

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously. 

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it. 

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does. 

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. 

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world. 

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed. 

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes. 

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather. 

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.” 

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.  

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth. 

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing. 

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.  

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch. 

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?  

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.  

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off,  huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.  

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.  

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you. 

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts. 

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door. 

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.    

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different. 

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them. 

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least. 

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.  

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done. 

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much. 

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.  

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,”  he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.  

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.  

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative. 

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing,  “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day. 

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you! 

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,”  he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small  “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips.  He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant. 

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.  

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.  

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”  

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?  

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.  

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left. 

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement. 

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”  

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids. 

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting. 

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath. 

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”  

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing. 

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk:  stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook’s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”,  and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”  

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far. 

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all.  part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

#btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #bts fic #bts angst #bts smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook/reader #jungkook x reader #bangtan fanfic #jungkook two shot #jungkook one shot #safety net #Jeon Jungkook fanfiction #Jeon Jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jeongguk fic #jeongguk fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

[thefanficmonster]

Just thought about this as a story or headcanons, maybe the lords in re8 have a child, which is the reader and they are somewhere around 7 in the beginning. You can do them all separately, like first part would be Heisenberg, then Dimitrescu, Beneviento, and then Moreau, so the reader would accidentally do something and they are scared that the lord that is their parent would be super mad and they run away and the lords reactions to their child being gone and maybe the reader goes back to the village older, maybe 14 or 15 and the lords are emotional when they finally reunite with the reader. Maybe at first they don't recognize the reader at first, thinking they are just an outsider until they see something that they gave the reader as a birthday present and they recognize them. And it's just full fluff in the end? This has also been bugging my mind for a while 🤣 sorry if this ask was complicated to read

Heyy ~ lovely idea as always hun! I changed it up a bit, hope you don't mind and still enjoy reading it nonetheless 💗

Alcina Dimitrescu

- Being the youngest Dimitrescu, you were expected to be a bit of a spoiled brat since our mother and sisters looked after you like the most precious and rarest gem in this world - Surprisingly though, you were a very well behaved child - A shy, quiet, well-mannered kid that followed their mother's rules like they were the law - But even you weren't immune to that childish curiosity that every kid possesses - So you had to go on and break a rule or two eventually - However, the biggest one you broke, the one that had you sweating nervously, was sneaking down into the basement where the wine your mother and sisters were so proud of was kept - With trembling hands you picked up one of the bottles, the one with the most interesting pattern on the bottle, and began to expect it - That’s when a noise suddenly echoed throughout the basement, causing you to drop the bottle which broke as soon as it the ground, sending the red liquid splashing everywhere - You were mortified - You were only six at the time, you couldn’t think of a strategy to fix the mess you had made - So instead, you chose to run and hide, convinced you’d get in A LOT of trouble when your mother would find out - The place you chose to hide in was a run down part of the courtyard where you were least likely to be spotted by anyone or anything - Your plan started backfiring only about an hour after you settled in your hiding spot - The cold was starting to be painful on your skin but you refused to go back in - Before you knew it you had passed out, deleting any memory of what was to happen afterwards - Upon waking up, you found yourself in your room, changed in a new set of clothes and void of the chill you were suffering from before you lost consciousness - It didn’t take you long to notice your mother sitting in a chair next to the bed, struggling not to drift of to sleep, her face looking like she had aged about ten years in the span of a few hours out of worry   - “Mom?” You spoke up weakly, startling the woman who was on her feet and crouching down closer to you within a second - “Y/N, darling, why’d you do that? You had me worried sick.” Alcina said, her hand gently caressing your hair, none of that sternness she was known for left in her - “I’m sorry, mama. For scaring you and for the wine bottle. I didn’t mean to...” You tried saying but got choked up by your tears - “The wine be damned. Nothing is as important to me as you are sweetie.” She said, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before climbing in bed with you and wrapping her arms around you, her embrace so warm and comforting - You never doubted your mother’s love for you, but that moment only made you more sure in it and made you love her triple the amount you already loved her

Donna Beneviento

- Donna had always been generous with the amount of dolls she allowed you to have and play with - Although, the ones she gave you were not infected with her Cadou and couldn’t move or speak on their own as to not scare you - However, you were still allowed to play and talk with Angie who you were raised to see as a sister - And just like sisters, you and Angie also fought every now and then - But, this one time, she really angered you and with all the strength of a six year old that you possessed you threw her across the room - She hit a wall hard enough to loosen one of her arms and it fell off - That’s when you knew you were practically dead in trouble and ran to hide under your bed - As you were climbing up the stairs though, you could still hear Angie’s screaming and crying from downstairs and Donna could no doubt hear it as well - So as to avoid running into her, instead of hiding upstairs, you went into the basement - Where you had never been in, by the way - Meaning you had no idea what horrors awaited you there - Mannequins, doll parts, terrifying dolls which moved on their own - In your eyes it was a pure nightmare - Seeing the dolls turning their heads to follow your movement, some even raising an arm as if to greet you almost made you scream several times but you didn’t want to give away your hiding spot - And that’s when the laid out mannequin on the table, one you were already terrified of, turned it’s head to look at you, opened its eyes and mouth - The radio on the other table turned on simultaneously, all of it being too much of a scare for you to be able to suppress the scream you let out - That’s when you felt a hand on your shoulder and screamed even louder, even beginning to cry - The hand turned you around and you were suddenly facing your mom who looked scared and concerned, a little paler than usual too - You took no notice of that though, seeing as how you ran right into her, hiding your face in her hip - “I’m sorry mommy! I didn’t mean to hurt Angie! Just please don’t let them scare me anymore!” You cried, your tiny hands balled up in fists, clutching to Donna’s dress as if for dear life - The woman was relieved to see you were safe although still a little confused as to why you had even run down to the basement in the first place - And then she thought a bit more about what you had said - “Oh dear, you thought you were in trouble? Angie’s perfectly fine, Y/N. Her limbs come off loosely all the time. You didn’t even actually hurt her.“ - Seeing that your distress was showing no sign of decreasing, Donna picked you up and proceeded to carry you up to where Angie was so she could apologize for making you feel guilty in the first place

Salvatore Moreau

- Being a young kid, the Reservoir was a rather dangerous place for you to wander around in unsupervised - Usually you’d stick to the safest area, aka the one furthest away from the water, and would only be allowed to see the rest of your dad’s property with him by your side, holding your hand to make sure you wouldn’t fall - But one day, as you were sitting in at the entrance of the Reservoir, in the small body of water by your feet you saw a golden fish - Mesmerized, you foolishly ducked down to try and touch it but it, of course, swam away - Oh but you were far from prepared to let it go - So you chased after it, watching its glimmering skin rush under the surface of the water, going further into the dangerous parts of the property - You were mindless to the fact you were entering a territory that was originally forbidden to you - That is until a wooden board on the dock broke under you, causing you to fall in the water - And being only barely six years old, you didn’t know how to swim so before the panic had even worn off completely, you started screaming for help, praying your father would hear you - And boy were you in luck - A giant fish emerged from the water from underneath you, carrying you on its back to the dock you had fallen from - You scrambled to get to the safe half of it and sat on the ledge - By the time you were able to look around with clear vision instead of the blurred with tears one you had been struggling with seconds prior, the monster fish was gone - And your dad was standing on the dock next to you - “You see no why you aren’t allowed here, child?” - You nod, sniffling and running to hug him, relieved to be in your dad’s safe embrace - Despite the efforts to be stern, Moreau crumbles back to his usual loving and caring self, being the best father in the world in your eyes  - He carried you, piggy-back style back to the safe space of the Reservoir

Karl Heisenberg

- It goes without say that, growing up in a factory as dangerous as Heisenberg’s, there’s certain amount of rules you have to respect for yours and your father’s safety as well as the successfulness of his experiments - But there was no force that was able to keep you away from this one machine that looked far too interesting for you to overlook - You couldn’t help but go up to it every now and then to look at the blinking lights and the tempting colorful buttons - And then there was one day when just looking didn’t satisfy you - So you went on to press a few buttons, in the order of your favorite colors - It didn’t take long for you to realize how poor that decision was - When sparks started flying from the machine was when you finally decided to back away and that satisfying your curiosity wasn’t worth it - But it was already too late  - The whole process had stopped, the conveyer belt of murder machines pausing mid-movement suggesting the whole operation was hindered - “Y/N? What on Earth are you doing?” - Your dad’s voice had never terrified you so much - All excuses and apologies you wanted to say died down in your throat at the sight of your mildly agitated father standing behind you with an unimpressed look on his face - He wasn’t angry by any means but your vision was too blurred by tears for you to be able to see that - “Dad, I’m so sorry!” You cried, running to hug him, back turned to the malfunctioning machine you believed you damaged beyond repair - Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a quick hug before stepping around you and approaching the machine, fixing it with the press of a few buttons - “Hope that teaches you a valuable lesson not to break the rules kid.” He said with a crooked smile, ruffling your hair while you still stared at machine in disbelief

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #re8 #re 8 #re village #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #parent scenarios #au #kid reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #video game headcanons #re headcanons #headcanons #video game #video game fanfic #reader #request

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

Nct Masterlists

Multi group Masterlist

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct imagine #nct oneshot #haechan oneshot #haechan imagine #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct fic #nct fanfic

[softer-ua]

I was thinking about how Katsuki has never seen Deku in the hospital before and how Deku might be surprised to see him, and how that would probably hurt Katsukis feelings.

Then I decided to be self-indulgent and write the scene out. It was supposed to be short but I got super self-indulgent, because I like making Katsuki feel and making it hurt 🥰

I don’t wanna be unexpected

Deku carefully cracks open his eyes slowly taking in a dark unfamiliar ceiling and the heavy aching of his limbs, he isn’t fully cast anymore but a routine stiffness that tells him he had been.

 He’s grown used to this routine over the last year, he doesn’t even bother trying to sit up. Instead, he just scans the room the best he can from his semi-horizontal position. 

Turning his head to the left he sees an empty visiting chair and a small window letting in the city’s lights. It’s the only light the room has so it must be well into the middle of the night. 

Continuing to the right he sees a small nightstand filled with get-well cards and gifts. It brings a smile to his cracked lips, he’d most certainly cry if his body had the water to spare. 

If you told Deku a year ago that he’d get into UA he might have believed you, but never in a million years would he believe you if you told him he was on friendly terms with at least 1/3 of all of UA’s hero course students. 

Sometimes that felt like the most unbelievable part of everything. Having his idol pass his legacy to him to beat an ancient evil? Crazy but within the realm of his imagination. 

Making close friends with half his class and being at a minimum a positive acquaintance to most of his peers? It was almost unthinkable for a kid who’d spent his whole life being scorned and left out by even his teachers. 

Choked up by his feelings, Deku tries to swallow the painful lump forming in his throat. He’s worried so many people and let them down by getting hospitalized yet again. 

He’s too dehydrated to cry but he can’t help the dry cracked warble that escapes him. It takes a concentrated effort to clear his throat and not break down completely. It wouldn’t be cathartic at this moment, just painful. 

A small groan from the foot of his bed pulls his attention away from reading what he could of the cards. 

What he sees doesn’t instantly register with his groggy mind. That’s not uncommon, usually, the longer he’s out the more disoriented he is upon waking, his body might have made a full recovery but the brain takes longer to re-engage with its surroundings. 

Deku doesn’t expect to see Kacchan of all people in his hospital room at all, let alone when he first wakes up in the dead of night, but the blonde tuft of hair sticking up from a familiar orange hoodie turned makeshift pillow cradled in well-toned arms makes the figure resting over the edge of his hospital bed unmistakable 

Deku would know that pale face pinched into a grimace anywhere. 

It adds to the layer of confusion he’s grown used to as part of waking up hospitalized. It also adds a layer of dread and an equal amount of relief. Things must be pretty bad if Kacchan is here, but Kacchan is here and he looks completely whole. It’s a best worst-case scenario. 

Kacchan lets out a small grunt as he pushes his face deeper into orange cotton. Deku’s heart squeezes at the sight of the blonde's obvious discomfort. 

Kacchan should be at home sleeping in a real bed, not hunched over in a visitor chair clutching a hoodie for a pillow. 

Without thinking Deku calls out “Kacchan?”, his voice just above a whisper, a selfish part of him hopes Kacchan will stay asleep a little longer. That he’ll stay where Deku can see him and knows he’s okay. But he knows it’s selfish. So he calls again a little louder, his voice hoarse and scratchy from lack of use. 

The blonde shoots up, eyes near frantic as he looks around before red irises settle their sites on him with more concern than Deku ever remembers seeing on Kacchan. Well, at least outside a fight and directed at him.

He hopes they're not about to fight, but when it comes to Kacchans temperament… well he’d be a fool to dismiss the possibility of it. 

For a moment all Kacchan does is stare at him. It makes something cold and heavy settle in his stomach. Nothing scares Kacchan, and yet he looks completely shaken. 

“Deku? Are you really awake this time?” Katsuki tries to not make his whisper sound as desperate as he feels. There’s no point getting worked up over another dream or worse a still drug-addled Deku, but this Deku seems to recognize him for the first time, and although tired his green eyes shined with a level of coherency that’s been missing for a few days now.

Katsukis’s chest grew tight seeing it. It paled in comparison to the glimmer of brilliance that usually shone in those beautiful emeralds, but when compared to the unfocused glazed look he had been sporting the last few days? Well, Katsuki thought he just might collapse with relief. 

This is what he’d been waiting for, Deku’s been physically healed for at least 2 days now but consciously he’s been pretty touch and go. “Uh, I think so?” That’s definitely not the kinda question Deku had been expecting, but he has his own question he wants to get to before they get into that. 

Pushing through the dry burning in his throat Deku rattled off the most pressing questions. “How are you feeling? Is everyone okay? Did LOV getaway? What’s going on?” 

Annoyance flashes in Katsukis’s eyes before quieting with acceptance, of course, the nerd wants to know how everyone else is and the current status. Katsuki wanted the same when he first woke up, they were heroes in training, after all. Their own lives would always take a backseat to their self-appointed responsibilities. 

“Hold on. You sound like sh– not good.” Katsuki got up and got the nerd a cup of water and then helped him sit upright, trying to decide on what to tell him. Completely missing the way Deku flushed at his uncharacteristic gentleness. 

Katsuki decided on the bare minimum. 

“I don’t wanna talk about that sh- not good fight right now. All you need to know is that everyone is fine. You’re the only one still layed up, worrying everyone half to death. You’ve been out for almost a week, you woke up a few times but you were all loopy calling people by the wrong names.” 

Calling him by the wrong name. Deku must have said an incoherent hello to half the class only sometimes guessing who he was speaking to correctly or just talking to no one at all before immediately falling back asleep. Deku had of course asked about him more than a few times but not once did the bastard see him sitting right in front of him. 

It had taken every ounce of willpower Katsuki possessed to not throttle him, but he’d promised All Might that for the sake of Auntie Inko he wouldn’t upset the nerd. 

The pride Katsuki had just momentarily taken in thinking to get Deku water, the gentleness he took help the dweeb sit up, and managing not to swear when recounting the transgressions to boot turned ashen when he saw the way Deku shied away with guilt. 

A stubborn part of him felt righteous and believed Deku should feel guilty, a larger part felt a sense of failure in breaking his promise to All Might literally the first time he actually spoke to Deku. 

“Wait, if everyone else is okay what are you doing here?” Deku feels himself relaxing despite his guilt, contentment settling in the spaces where trepidation previously roosted, he trusted Kacchan to be honest. 

If he says everything’s fine then it is, but the lack of pressing news makes Kacchan passed out at the end of his bed even more confusing. 

The painkillers he’s on make thinking feel like everything’s ruining through Windows 95’, he can practically hear his brain's fan whirring. His mind can’t really pull up fresh thoughts, just old truths, Kacchans never visited before and he apparently has no reason to now.

Katsuki sighs as he slumps back into his chair. Deku’s still clearly confused and he isn’t sure he has the energy to repeat himself right now, then considering how he failed the first time he decides might as well try.

“Everyone is fine, everything is as fine as it can be at the moment. You’re in the hospital recovering from the fight with supercharged crusty mcdusty, but you are also apparently going to be fine” Dekus staring at him like he has two heads so he keeps talking. “The league is being dealt with, I’m not talking about the fighting until tomorrow at the earliest, neither of us is in shape for that conversation and I don’t know much myself yet”

Deku’s pinch brows and slight pout tell him he’s got questions, questions he can’t answer. Anytime he even thinks about how the fight went down he feels like he’s going to explode.

Trying to reign in every ounce of self control he possesses he slumps further in his chair rubbing his face and counts to five. Then kicks Dekus hospital bed for good measure, before speaking again.

“Deku just rest, you're clearly still out of it and I don’t wanna repeat myself a third time.” Seriously how many other ways can he say everything is, by a very loose definition, fine. How much clearer can he make it that he’s not giving anything else up?

“Uh you didn’t have to repeat yourself? I believed you the first time, Kacchan” Deku couldn’t help but feel like Kacchan was purposely misinterpreting his question, but why? It shouldn’t be a hard question, he’d really only asked to make conversation and clear up some brain cobwebs.

“Then why did you ask���“ Something ugly and broken twists in Katsuki’s gut as he slowly repeated Dekus' question in his head ‘what are you doing here’.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here if you didn’t have to be.”

Deku wasn’t, hadn’t been, asking why someone was there with him but why he, Katsuki, was there. Deku wanted to know why he was here instead of literally anyone else. Deku didn’t know that Katsuki had basically taken up permanent residence in here with him, probably couldn’t see the cot laying at the foot of his bed.

White-hot rage coursed through him in an instant, after everything they went through Deku thought he’d just ditch him to some extras in scrubs? Katsuki had a bad temper on good sleep, exhausted he was ready to put Deku back in a coma.

He struggled with the feeling of his palms heating, but the second before he felt like detonating Katsuki caught Deku’s eyes in full.

As always they show everything the nerds feeling and the familiarity soothes him in a way he can’t explain. Doesn’t ever want to explain.

It used to drive him up the wall like Deku was purposely giving him messages in a language he couldn’t read. Shoving in his face how inadequate he is in comparison.

Katsuki knows now that’s not the case and over the last few months, he’s actually been learning how to read Deku for the first time in his life.

And he’s discovering that even though it’s an advanced read for him he likes the challenge and even more he likes the victorious warmth that spreads down to his toes when he can tell just what Dekus is thinking without any words.

Right now Deku does look slightly confused and yet still so open and trusting, and his crooked shy smile proves that he is actually happy Katsukis here. His confusion is just that, confusion.

Always glad to see him, always caught off guard by his presence.

As much as the familiarity soothed the recognition hurt.

A couple of months on good terms doesn’t erase all the bad years, he knows this, he’s told himself as much a dozen-plus times.

He’s never visited Deku in the infirmary or the hospital before now.

At first just because his stubborn pride insisted that he couldn’t show weakness/care for someone else because he was above them all, that he had to constantly act like Deku was below him. Even when he recognized Deku as a rival he didn’t visit, partly because of lingering pride but mostly because he felt like he didn’t deserve to.

He was too much of a coward/slave to his pride to risk being turned away.

This time he hadn’t even considered Deku might not want him, he had just selfishly insisted he stay by his side for his own peace of mind.

To see Deku wanted him here but couldn’t understand why Katsuki would want to be here himself left his fingers feeling numb as all the adrenaline drained out of him.

Deku studied Kacchan intently, his explosive rival had turned to him and risen half out his chair looking like he was about to shout at him but when their eyes locked the words had apparently died on his tongue.

Now Kacchan was just staring at him with an unreadable expression entirely unmoving after he plopped back in his seat, never breaking eye contact. It was clear now that Kacchan hadn’t understood his question at first but now he seemed lost at how to answer.

Deku wanted to wait for Kacchan to speak but experience told him he shouldn’t hold his breath.

Besides it was late, as much as he desperately didn’t want him to go, Kacchan should be safely asleep in his own room. It’d be selfish to ask him to stay.

Kacchan probably hadn’t meant to stay as late as he did, he was just prone to falling asleep wherever he was once 9 pm rolled around. Deku knew first hand that Auntie Mitsuki had a very strict bedtime policy that had long been physically instilled into Kacchans psyche.

“Kacchan, it’s late you should head back to the dorms and get some real sleep. I feel fine.” At the sudden incredulous tweak of a blonde eyebrow, Deku rushed to elaborate, “I mean I'm of course tired, and a sore but I feel whole. This is a familiar routine for me, I’m okay.”

Katsuki thought back to what he told All Might a lifetime ago, “he never considers himself”.

Here Deku was laying in a hospital bed concerned about his sleep and knowing just what he wanted/needed to hear, that Deku was okay, straight from the source.

It’s all he’d wanted to hear for almost a week now and he had to press his lips shut into a tight line to keep the embarrassing whimper he felt clawing at his throat from escaping.

“I know that you can go to the front desk and the attendant will call for a UA shuttle, doesn’t matter the time, Todoroki has left as late as 3 am”

Oh if that didn’t have something ugly snapping its jaws and thirsty for blood inside Katsuki. At heart, he’s always been explosively petty.

As much comfort as Todoroki being almost equally worried about Deku had been over the last week anytime anyone so much as even accidentally hinted at the ways Katsuki had failed to be there for Deku before now had him seeing red.

Reminding him how others had stepped up and into the places, Katsuki felt he should have been, felt like a slap in the face. But coming from Deku the anger he felt turned inward.

Where he usually saw red, all he saw was green. Not the warm emerald hue of Deku sitting in front of him, but dark bitter jealous green.

Petulant ‘whys’ clawed at his ribs. Why did people who’d only know Deku for a year have a more prominent roles in the nerds life than he did after knowing him forever, why did Deku have to like those extras so damn much, why didn’t he realize sooner how important Deku was, why did he have to care about any of that at all, why did Deku have to bring up that goddamn candy cane, why did Deku want to send him away, why wasn’t Deku even half as desperate to stay by his side as he was, why why why?!

He voiced none of these thoughts, instead just continued staring grumpily ahead. Hoping Deku didn’t notice how heavy his breathing had gotten or how he tightened his grip on the chair's armrests.

Deku took another sip of water before continuing. “I’m happy you’re here, really, it means a lot to me.” He let a genuine full smile slip on his face, he didn’t want Kacchan thinking he wasn’t grateful for his presence.

He really was happy that Kacchan was the first person he got to see upon waking up.

Circumstantial or not the fact that Kacchan was here with him now was a deep comfort to him and a pleasant way to wake up. Usually, it was to his classmates' forced positivity or his overly fussy weeping mother and that never got easier to deal with. As confusing as the change was it was a nice one. And he told him as much.

Why did Deku always know exactly what to say to people? When he, Katsuki Bakugo, couldn’t say anything at all.

Normally the instant relief his body felt at Deku’s words just pissed him off, but tonight exhaustion took its toll.

He felt the tears he’d been fighting all week fall hot and sticky down his cheeks, embarrassment shame and guilt tinted his face a splotchy pink. When he felt the lump in his throat give way to a choked hiccup he didn’t just crack, he shattered.

Ugly sobs racked through him and he buried his face in his hands and dug his fingers into his hair.

Why was the only familiar part of this him breaking down in front of Deku? He’s known Deku his whole life. He should have been the first and last person in Deku’s hospital room every time from the very beginning if for nothing more than obligation. Any one of those times could have been the last time.

Deku would have slipped away from him, and Katsuki would have been one of the last ones to know.

He hadn’t because he knew it’d always end up like this, him blubbering like a baby over Dekus hospital bed and he couldn’t risk it before. Too desperate to keep that little voice inside him that picks apart his every sign of weakness quiet.

It never goes away and UA had made it so much louder, he couldn’t give more feed to the fire. That’s exactly what Deku does to him.

On bad days Katsuki feels the little claws of insecurity scratching at his brain comparing him to Deku, that Deku’s surpassing him because he’s weak and he’s going to get left behind, he’s going to be forgotten.

On equally bad days he surpasses Deku completely and the voice switches gears, telling him he doesn’t deserve Dekus praises. That he’s a hopeless brat with an oversized ego and Deku’s words are empty. Katsuki hasn’t earned them, and he never will, Deku’s just placating him.

Katsuki doesn’t have good days.

Why did he even care though, Deku has seen him cry a dozen times and never once has it changed anything, hell Deku cries all the time.

But Deku’s never been debilitated by crying the way he is, Deku always keeps moving like he doesn’t even notice he’s crying. But he, Katsuki, can barely breathe around his tears.

Because he’s weak and a coward and everything Dekus not. Deku’s light years ahead of him in being a better person and by proxy a better hero and he’s never going to catch up.

Delirious with exhaustion Katsukis thoughts keep spiraling out of his control, growing more and more vicious.

He doesn’t even deserve to call himself Dekus' rival, Deku’s going to leave him behind, Deku’s going to keep taking on the world by himself because he’s not strong enough to fight alongside him, Dekus going to get himself killed and it’s all his fault. He’s hyperventilating through his sobs now.

“Wha- Kacchan, what’s wrong?” Deku suppressed a small groan at stretching stiff unused muscles as his scrambled brain had him lurch forward to grasp Kacchans wrists, he can see where blunt nails dig into his scalp. Gently as he could, Deku replaces callused hands with his crooked ones.

“Hey look at me.” He lifted Kacchans head to meet his eyes and took deep slow dramatic breaths encouraging Kacchan to match his breathing. Red eyes frantically scanned his face and clutched his wrists tightly like a lifeline, desperate that Deku doesn’t pull away.

Slowly their breathing synchronized, the tears kept flowing though, Deku was certain he was crying now too but he made no move to confirm this. He just kept watching Kacchan, keeping his own breathing steady. This wasn’t the first time he’s had Kacchan match his breathing, but it is the first time he’s been this close and this obvious about it. Then again Kacchans never looked this desperate.

In the past when he’s noticed Kacchans breathing has sped up and his gaze looks far away he’ll nonchalantly sit down next to him like he hasn’t noticed Kacchans problem at all, then he’ll practice his own breathing exercises a little louder than would be considered polite. Consciously or not Kacchan follows suit.

He’d learned the tactic when he was 7 from his mom helping one of their neighbors on the way to the store, a very nice lady he called Auntie Kay. She had some kind of disorder that gave her bad anxiety and had apparently forgotten to take meds that morning and got overwhelmed by the noise. His mom used to be an assisted living caregiver before she became, well his mom, so she had experience with this kind of thing.

Later she explained what she’d been doing. That you're someone they have a long history of trusting you don’t want to get in their space, just reaffirm to them that they’re safe and try to get them to slow their breathing, focus on breathing out.

1, because It’s hard to concentrate if you don’t feel safe. 2, the human body doesn’t know if it has enough oxygen, it knows if it’s getting enough air and if it has too much carbon dioxide in it, and you breathe out carbon dioxide.

That day his mom was like a mini hero, saving the day with a smile. It made him more aware that there’s more to being a hero than just fighting villains, it’s about saving people.

He can’t fight villains from a hospital bed, he could still be there for others. He could be there for Kacchan.

After a minute he hesitantly thumbed away the freshest tears but that seemed to just make things worse as another sob racked through Kacchan and he tightened his grip on his wrists. It wasn’t until Kacchan finally spoke and he reflexively snapped his jaw shut that Deku realized he’d been making soft shushing noises.

Katsuki tightened his grip on Deku’s wrists as he choked on one last sob thinking that Deku was finally pulling away, but when he just continued to thumb his tears away and making soft little noises he let himself believe Deku wasn’t going to dismiss him again.

Katsukis never let himself be comforted like this by anyone, not even as a child, but he was too tired to fight it, too distraught to care about how selfish he’s sure he’s being, and too certain that Deku was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He’s confronted his own mortality a few times this year but none of it had compared to being confronted in real-time with Dekus. Living with Deku so close to death over the last week had taken its toll on everyone but Katsuki especially had been unraveling more and more each day.

The first day he’d been ready to bring the entire hospital down if he didn’t get to Deku’s side immediately. It only got worse from there.

He’d grown more cantankerous than he’d ever been, but the fire in him had been dying out. By the time Deku first woke up and didn’t recognize him the only thing he’d say to anyone was the same mumbled shut up, only sometimes accompanied by half-hearted sparks daring anyone to try to remove him from the room.

Auntie Inko was distraught too but she had let All Might take her home after that first visit and encouraged her to rest there saying something about how no mother should have to see this side of hero work or whatever.

The doctors were probably just worried about what all those tears might do to their equipment, Katsuki certainly had been even if he hadn’t said so.

Katsuki had promised Inko he’d stay by Deku’s' side, she’d looked conflicted about something but they both silently agreed that was a discussion for another day.

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say now but desperately feels like he needs to say something.

He’s terrified it’ll all come out wrong and freak Deku out, Deku who just woke up for real for the first time! He’s terrified of saying nothing and losing his chance to say anything at all because Deku just woke up for real for the first time in a week!

Deku deserves to hear him apologize for everything, but he doesn’t feel like he’s ready to be forgiven and if Deku doesn’t forgive he doesn’t know what’ll happen to him, he may very well implode.

If Deku turns him away then the kindest thing the universe could do for him would be to ignite every nitroglycerin-soaked cell in his body and just let him go. But the universe isn’t kind and will instead make him force himself out of this room and into a UA shuttle and into a life where everything green fades into bleak gray.

“Kacchan, your muttering” Deku says with the softest smile Katsuki has ever seen, and he feels like all his broken pieces have begun melting.

Deku stays silent, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. He seems content with doing nothing more than smiling at him until the sun comes up. And Katsuki feels another sob rip through him as he forces himself to speak.

“I meant it when I told you to keep your eyes on me.” The desperation in his own voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. “I want you to know to look for me, and that I’ll be there. Even outside of heroing. I want you to expect me at every turn, forever. I don’t wanna be unexpected”

Deku leans forward and Katsuki thinks he’ll stop breathing all over again until their foreheads bump together. Deku’s looking right in his eyes, and he’s so close Katsuki's eyes can barely focus on him. They just stay like that for a small eternity while Katsuki’s heart beats wildly for entirely different reasons. One’s he’s not sure he’s ready to understand.

“Okay, Kacchan”

#kacchan #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #deku #izuku midoriya #bakudeku #dekubaku #Decchan #bkdk #dkbk #4k words might be too many for tumblr #the self-indulgence is strong with this one #it’s not even angst Katsuki just makes himself cry #katsuki needs therapy so bad y’all #now that it’s finished I realize this just 4K words of nothing actually happening #Deku is literally the most perfect angel in the world #but he asked the wrong question